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There was no up, no down. Only a white dark blur. That, and the violence, his body thrown around, pummelled constantly. A blow to a leg, then to his chest. Then his head. Pain was everywhere, so it was nowhere. He was pain.
His chest burnt with cold, but his throat was raw, a sharp taste in his mouth. And there was no stopping.
Brodie tried to scream, but his lungs were crushed tight. He could not feel himself, was not there. He had been chased. His feet were torn to shreds. Shouts, shots, anger. His legs burnt. His lungs screamed.
At least now he was cooling down.
But that was not him, not now. It couldn’t be. He was somewhere else. That body, the one he called Brodie, was out of his control.
He felt his hand move, fighting through the pounding. He felt it grasp at his le
