“Neither did she have any knowledge that in other parts of the United States, Valentine's Day was less than forty-eight hours away; that was part of a mundane, ordinary life as unknown to her as her controlled existence had been to the outside world. Though she had learned much at Manticore, all the girl knew, at this moment, was that she was running for her life. The deafening whir of choppers circling overhead did not cause her to look up, and she avoided the wide white beams of searchlights t...hat probed, slashed the remote Manticore facility, turning the gloomy woods into a haunted house of light, dark, and shadow. Brunette locks shaved down to a severe concentration-camp buzz cut, she was small, but not skinny—lean, lithe, wiry . . . and, though unmistakably a child, already battle-hard. Her dark olive complexion gave her a tiny advantage over some of the others, the ones so white they practically glowed when the searchlights neared them, ghosts in the haunted house. Her eyes were large and dark, and she might have been referred to as doe-eyed if there hadn't been something lethal glinting in there, something almost predatory in the way those orbs took in whole scenes and missed no detail.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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