Libraries Aine sat on a pile of books. She stared at the map tacked to the library wall, trying to make sense of the underground passages. At first glance the tunnels appeared to be laid out quite logically. The larger passages tended to run like spokes in a wheel, each black line extending from the same central spot in the center of the knot. The spokes were linked by ‘stations’: the rank, cold shelters where humankind stood in disjointed crowds, waiting to board the train of their choosing. The stations were marked with simple, heavily inked X’s. Red foil stars glittered in loose clusters around almost every black X: forty-seven tiny red brilliants. Aine had counted them three times to be sure. There weren’t any abandoned bowls of candy waiting in the room when Aine had grown weary of trying to sleep, and found her way to the library. She nibbled on a fingernail instead. The more she studied the map, the less sense it made.
What do You think about Winter (The Manhattan Exiles)?
