Chapter 52
I COUGHED water into my nose, panicked, sneezed, and completely lost my breathing rhythm.
Nothing next to the chaos in my mind.
The desolate plain of cinder-covered stones seemed to reel away. Behind me, the viscous emerald surge of Lake Huron rolled out its unsettling, too-slow susurrus.
Frost’s words repeated in my ears. The phrase You are the real Kevin Holtzmann absolutely refused to sink into my brain. They were the wrong shape. I knew the individual words, but they refused to assemble into coherent meaning.
My entire identity started and ended with me being a copy. I’d used that knowledge, that perspective, to cope with the end of the world, the deliberate extinction of the human race, my own alien existence.
Frost’s quiet, factual tone made her seem quite confident
