To the End of the Line
A terrible metallic taste flooded Riga's mouth. It started in the back of her throat and snaked all the way up to her front teeth, pushing against pursed lips. She clenched her jaw to keep from vomiting and threw her arms around her stomach. Muscles spasmed, joints popped, and she doubled over. The world around her pulsed in puffy blotches, but a harsh glare pierced her vision. It was a rude awakening.