Mark Magalang woke up in a cold sweat. The pillow was drenched when he lifted his head suddenly and looked around the dark, humid room. Nothing looked familiar.
"Where am I?" he muttered aloud, to no one in particular. "Where the hell am I?"
A thought flashed in his head, clear as day. Amy. Dear sweet Amy. His last recollection was walking down a grassy path with Amy by his side. The bright sunlight fell on her shoulders, her light brown hair illuminated like so many strands of fiber optic cable pulsating with data.
Where was Amy? He could remember her presence as clear as day. But at this very moment, this one frantic sweat-drenched moment, she was nowhere to be found.
