She was alone with the wind… no hungry, discombobulated crowds, no assemblage of rickety boats that discharged nameless aspirants, and no indication, save for a single thing, that Dock 19 existed.

Allie, who was standing at the lip of an encroaching tide, dropped the mysterious syringe onto the wet shoreline, and fixated on what appeared to be a hulking table near the top of the berm.

(Written by Edward Roads)