“She kept resting her hand on her belly, trying to sense whatever it was that was going on within her. “Talk to me,” she whispered. “Tell me what you want.” The small passenger did not respond. She drifted in and out during the night, sleeping for minutes at a time. Every time she did manage to slumber, she was pelted with an unceasing barrage of images: her husband, climbing out of the grave, his arms outstretched, falling upon her and clawing at her stomach, trying to rip the infant from her. ...When the first light of the twin suns of Nova Prime began to crawl over the horizon, Mallory’s eyes were red with strain. Not with tears; she felt as if she had cried herself out after Jan’s death. Instead they were red with exhaustion. When she looked at herself in the mirror, she reminded herself of something out of an ancient tale of the undead. An hour later she was sitting on the edge of her bed. She was wearing civilian clothes and her hair was wet; obviously she had showered and dressed, but she had no recollection of doing so.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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