The Distant Wound
The siren did not wail; it hummed, a low, vibrating drone that settled into the marrow of the bone before it registered in the ear. Margaret Holloway felt it in her teeth, a grinding pressure that tasted of copper and old dust. She stood in the center of the processing room, a vast, circular space that had once been a ballroom in the old city before the walls were lined with steel and the floor...
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