SHANNON’S HEAD BOUNCED, her cheek hitting something slippery and hard.
That hurt. Shannon cast about her mind for an explanation of the painful thump. Couldn’t think of one. Couldn’t think much at all, really.
She rested for a moment, not worrying about thinking.
She stirred. She ought to figure out her situation.
Okay, open the eyes. Get some input. In her head, she gave the signal to her eyelids. Open. She waited.
Nada. Brain link to eyelids apparently not online. Fine. She kept them closed.
What else could she learn?
One: She was lying on her stomach with her left cheek resting on a smooth surface. Sand?
Two: the air smelled of brine, birds, the vegetation of the sea.
Three: she was listening to the slap of waves.
Maybe the incoming tide was pushing her along, then bouncing her head on the wet, hard, compact ground when the tide receded. Yes, maybe on a beach.
Four through fifteen: Cold. Very cold. Not in California then.
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