We use cookies
When you visit our website, if you give your consent, we will use cookies to allow us to collect data for aggregated statistics to improve our service and remember your choice for future visits. Cookie Policy & Privacy Policy
Dear Reader, we use the permissions associated with cookies to keep our website running smoothly and to provide you with personalized content that better meets your needs and ensure the best reading experience. At any time, you can change your permissions for the cookie settings below.
If you would like to learn more about our Cookie, you can click on Privacy Policy.
Your cookies settings
Strictly cookie settingsAlways Active
Chapter 8
But then I do—see him, I mean. Then I see him stumbling back into the light and waving up at us: sweepingly, expansively, a skinny, bearded, shirtless man—it is easily ninety degrees, inexplicable for November—a desert island survivor. “He sees something, someone is coming.” I glance at Peter but find I can hardly look at him, hardly look at either of them. “He’s in trouble—serious trouble—whoever he is. Take us down.” Peter frowns. “After what happened at the shopping center?” He glances at Sunny, privately, knowingly. “That’s a negative.” I look at Sunny, who also frowns. “He’s right, Preston. We shouldn’t risk it.” She shakes the hair out of her eyes, lifts her mic. “Are you rolling?” I peer through the viewfinder at the man—at the desert island survivor who is backing toward his tru
- Writer
- chap_listContents
- likeADD