The Golden Quest
Act I The commuter rail was a dead animal in the mud, its cars heaped with people who smelled of wet wool and stale coffee, stretching from the terraced hills of the colonias down to the flat, gray sprawl of the industrial zone. I was Nazario Bermudez, a ledger clerk, and I was standing in the queue for the ferry that would take me to the warehouse where my name was already a rumor. The rain...
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