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Lying still in the washing drum really didn’t seem so hard any more. In fact, the thought of moving sounded much more difficult.

Mary felt for her pulse but found it surprisingly hard to find and measure. It was weak and slow, like the rest of her.

Her mind went back to the room at the Facility, when sometimes she’d been able to switch off her functions and go into a dormant phase. This was where she went now.

Her brain was still ticking along, and without effort, Vander’s face came to the front of her mind. His face was wider than Shaw’s but had the same blue eyes. He was worried, less confident and sure than Shaw was. Poor Vander. He’d always been worried about her, trying to fix her.

She thought of Beal. Had she got away with Barb? Maybe if she’d had a sister in the Facility, she would have been happy to stay there. They could have talked and played and been friends.

She tried to think of Max and Frank. Frank was clearer. She wanted to see Frank again.

A tear slid down her cheek and was absorbed by the washing that was becoming her winding sheet.

‘Shaw,’ she whispered.

Where was Shaw? More than anyone else, she wanted to see Shaw.