The Girl Who Ran. Nikki Owen
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‘Fuck you.’ Chris spits at her.
She glances down to the saliva on her gilet, then points her gun to Patricia’s head and looking at me, says, ‘I’ll make the choice for you now really very easy: come with me or I kill your friends.’
Goldenpass railway line, The Alps, Switzerland.
Time remaining to Project re-initiation: 25 hours and 01 minutes
‘Doc, don’t listen to her,’ Patricia says, her voice shaking. ‘She doesn’t mean it.’
The woman thrusts the gun towards Patricia’s head. ‘Oh, but I do.’
Outside, the landscape flies by in grey and black and yellow, pinpricks of lights glowing in the distance against the slopes of the white mountains, flickering as the wooden chalets and guesthouses and bars switch on for the evening.
I look at the woman and feel disgust, anger at the sight of her. ‘Leave.’
‘I’m afraid I cannot do that.’
‘You know I have been trained,’ I say. ‘You know what I am capable of.’
‘You think I am on my own?’ She shakes her head. ‘We are everywhere, subject 375. They are waiting for you, so we can either make this easy or hard.’
The air feels clammy. I catch sight of the dead family, the innocent little boys and their father. I can’t let anyone else die. I uncouple my fingers from Chris and prepare.
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