Ghosts In The Machine (The Babel Trilogy Book 2) - Plot & Excerpts
Still, it was a shock that some airlines had put on extra flights, and more of a shock I still couldn’t get a seat. When I dug up a cheap last-minute deal—Kona via Honolulu via LA—it was ten and a half hours including the two layovers; I hesitated for all of five minutes, and when I looked again it had evaporated. Eventually, after an hour of hitting refresh, I snagged the last seat on a direct flight from SeaTac to Kona. It was an oddly private, subdued crowd on my plane. Three or four people were wearing the white Seraphim scarf, but I assumed (because of the clothes, and despite their reserved manner) that everyone else was a tourist, flying to the middle of the Pacific for the usual ritual: extra-deep sunburn; rip-off drinks made from canned pineapple juice with grain alcohol; Cambodian-sweatshop hula souvenirs. But no, these ordinary American couples and singles and buddy groups weren’t about to become beach lobsters. They were new acolytes, converts to the Word of Quinn, going eagerly for initiation at (as they were calling it) the First Epicenter.
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