She might have slept a while, or maybe just lay unconscious, because her body refused to go on. But eventually the same instinct that had driven her this far insisted she begin moving again. I have to. I have to. Yes. You have to.

That was peculiar, that other, alien voice in her head. She thought about it for a while, curling into a fetal position on her side even though the position was more painful. It was getting harder and harder to breathe. Broken rib, probably.

Three broken ribs. And a punctured lung. Listen to me, Hollis. You have to keep moving. Someone will be passing by in just a few minutes. If you aren't outside by then, you won't be found until tomorrow.

How strange. The voice knew her name.

Tomorrow will be too late, Hollis.

Yeah, she thought it probably would be too late.

Do you want to live?

Did she? She thought she did. Not that it would be the life she'd had before. In fact, it might not be much of a life at all. But… dammit… she wanted it. If only to live long enough for…

Vengeance?

Justice.

Hollis turned painfully back onto her belly and began the methodical effort of inching forward once again. She thought she was making progress, at least until she encountered a wall.

Damn.

Listening, she thought she could hear faint traffic sounds; that was her only clue to the whereabouts of a door that would allow her to escape the building. She began to feel her way along the wall toward the sounds.

It was getting colder. The wind that had whistled through the building during her entire agonizing journey downstairs was blowing in her face now. She guessed the building had long ago lost most of its windows and doors, so the wind found easy passage, stirring the dust and mold of many long years of neglect even as it cut into her shivering body.