CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE
The light burned her eyes as Maya regained consciousness slowly, squinting through the slushy haze that was her brain as the drugs she’d been shot with began to wear off. Sensory perceptions came to her slowly, as if in a single-file line, waiting their turn to be recognized.
She was aware that she was rocking slightly. A steady sound resonated beneath her—cha-chunk, cha-chunk, cha-chunk… The train. She was still on the train. But there were lights. It had been dark in the freight car when she had been closed within it.
She was lying on something soft. A bed? She dared to open her eyes, slowly, as she sat up and groaned. A headache pounded in her skull as she examined her surroundings in astonishment.
She had been moved, that much was clear; she was in a tiny room,
