The Faded Quadrant
Thorne, Thorne, stop fighting the restraints, you’re going to tear the line out of your arm. The voice was thin, stretched over the sterile white silence of the ward, a sound that seemed to originate not from the nurse standing at the foot of the bed but from the walls themselves, from the linoleum that gleamed with a wet, predatory sheen under the fluorescent lights. Sergeant Elias Thorne,...
0 Комментарии 0 Поделились 1 Просмотры 0 предпросмотр