He blinked his eyes, making sure they were open, but he couldn’t see anything in the dark. That didn’t scare him as much as the stifling silence did. Where was el océano and her comforting waves? Where were the little ones just on the other side of the crumbling plaster walls of his decrepit, one-room apartment, and their daily fight over who ate which cereal? Where was the ancient señora on the other side, and the whine of her equally ancient TV? The constant scent of burnt toast, peppers cooked in oil, and cheap perfume from the girls three doors down the hall were missing, too. Zane reached up to feel his eyes, his eyelashes fluttering against his fingertips. Then he plugged and unplugged his ears with his fingers, but it made no difference. The world still remained at a distance. Panic jolted through Zane. He couldn’t be dying. Not yet. He hadn’t finished his mission.
