The Golden Crossing
"Leave it in the bowl, Christina, or I’ll feed it to the dogs." The smell of the observation blister hit her before the sight did: a cloying, metallic tang of recycled air mixed with the damp, earthy rot of the soil beds that lined the walls. Christina Ioannidis stood in the narrow corridor, her hands still stiff from the cold of the outer hatch, and watched the caretaker of the closed school,...
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