Kellerman approached again. Linc blocked him and marched him out of the train-car, slamming the door behind Kellerman and throwing himself down in front of the car door with his legs stretched to the opposite side of the door.
“You should sleep,” Michael told Sara from where they were sitting side by side, guiding her head to his shoulder.
She closed her eyes, but try as she might, she couldn’t. It was the first time she was safe and able to think. Images blocked before by fight or flight came to play on her closed eyes, unbidden but vivid. Her dad lying there in his living room, not moving, dead. Kellerman’s betrayal of her, first with the morphine in her apartment then with the bathtub in the motel.
That morphine would look very good at that moment, to dull the images playing at the back of her eyelids ever since she had let Michael and the others leave through the medical wing door.
She felt Michael’s fingers press against her palm and give her hand a comforting squeeze. To her surprise, she was comforted by the knowledge he was there. She gave a squeeze back before drifting off to sleep.