Chapter Two: The Impact That Never Happened

Lin coughed. A dark drop landed on her hand, cold as refrigerated blood. Zhou tested it. “Deoxygenated venous blood,” he said. “From a version of you whose circulation has stopped.” For an instant, the bridge’s rough concrete became smooth plaza stone against her shattered shoulder. Lin jerked away. “How do we stop it?” “Find the line tying the two outcomes together.” Zhou pointed beside her waist. “A constant pull leads east. It’s an anchor.” East lay the municipal morgue. Another message guided them to freezer B-17. While Cheng distracted the staff, Lin and Zhou entered the basement. Inside lay Zhao Qiming, the eleventh victim.