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Chapter 52: The One We Followed, III
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... t. As though he'd never stood in front of me at all. But the pain in my ribs, the blood in my mouth, the ringing in my skull—they remembered him.
I stood slowly. The station was still shifting, like it hadn't decided if it wanted to remain real.
A corridor to my left collapsed inward. The clock above it ticked once, then stopped.
I turned—no sign of the others.
"Clara?"
No answer.
I moved. The floor groaned. Dust scattered.
Then, a pulse. < ...
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