here. It was a bleak concrete island surrounded by cornfiel

and lighting cigarettes. The air outside was da

our hours. She stood near a vending machine, counting the crumpled bills in her pocket

he glass coil. It looked dry and unap

ffee from a styrofoam cup and eating a pack of peanuts. He wasn't looking at her

pled the bag. He glanced over an

looked down at her shoes

llar bill into the slot. He pressed a button

t her. He just walked past her and, without breaking str

k and pulled the package ou

king away, his back

as sugary and artificial, but it tasted like heaven. She at

"Route 402 to Blackwood

on her jeans and m

stopped abruptly. He turned around so fa

, looking up at h

e?" he demanded. His voi

frantically. She wa

machines, and now you're here," Hoyt said, step

s a threat. The idea was laughable-she was a broken girl

nger at the sign above t

looked at the sign, then ba

d. It was a lie, but it was t

know everyone in Blackwo

voice. She reached into her pocket for her notepad, but

," he

r hand still

g her. He seemed to decide she wasn't an immed

aid, his voice cold. "

ler connector bus. Eva waited

row, his back against the corner so he could see t

ck of her head. It was a physical weight, h

pressing down hard. She started to draw the line of his jaw, the anger in his eyes. Drawing was the only

fferent. He wasn't just a monster. He was a guard