Chapter Eight
We stepped from the train as soon as the doors stretched open, our feet touching down on the soggy Port Morris sidewalk. Fog held steady along the water bank as it was prone to do. Though there was sometimes debate whether the particles that filled the air with a moist grayish haze was fog or toxic smog from the factories and warehouses lining the industrial zone, it didn’t really matter. It helped us vanish.
As we marched along the waterfront, our feet crunched on the gravel-littered hard-top that was well past its prime but still drivable—if you didn’t mind the occasional pothole or two. This wasn’t an area frequented by luxury vehicles, anyway.
The only sounds filling the air were the grind and wine of power tools punctuated by the cursing banter of men with deep, husky
