“Mona. Mona?”
Kerri’s voice broke through Mona’s flashback. Her panic crescendoed into vivid memory; her cries had become screams then whimpers as the Francophone song remained inside her head on an endless loop. The elevator’s buttons went down, down, down. The gun was in her ribcage. Gabriel smelled like fear. The door was about to open, but Kerri brought her back. She was clad in only her bra and underwear, but she moved with the composure of someone in an Army general uniform. Her mouth was a moving machine part, calling Mona’s name and then barking out muted commands.
“Mona, Mona. Pay attention. Answer me.”
Kerri shook her shoulders. She snapped her fingers in front of Mona’s face. There was no time for hugging or hand holding. When Mona gestured to the door from her spot crumbled
