“He’ll kill me even if nothing happens to me,” Lorn said cheerfully. “So, it’s not worth worrying about.”
Art sighed and didn’t say anything more.
They rolled along in silence for a while, then Lorn’s voice came out of the darkness again. “Smooth ride,” he said. “Beats Mom’s truck.”
Despite everything, Art chuckled at that. But in fact, he wished he and Lorn were back in that noisy rattletrap, or in the Kymbals’ cabin, or anywhere but where they were, heading to Bagnell, where he planned to do something possibly useless, definitely dangerous, and likely impossible. Taking action, however good it might be for the soul, could be far less healthy for the body. And now he had Lorn to worry about, too. Stupid kid, he thought, but his heart wasn’t in it; he found it oddly touching that the bo
