“This is miserable,” I said after I finished an hour’s stint driving. My arms ached, my hands were cold even in the leather driving gloves, my veil was sodden and dripped water all over me, and my face hurt from squinting to see through the rain.
Dixon and I swapped seats without getting out into the monsoon. He’d been doing the bulk of the driving duties simply because it was hell to steer the Flyer in the onslaught, but I was beginning to think we had better find a spot to pull over and see if we could wait out the storm when Tabby texted me.
August 8
From: Tabby
FYI our car just started making horrible grinding noises and the temp is rising. We’re turning around and going to the last petrol station we saw.
August 8
To: Tabby
Oh no! Are you guys OK? Should we turn around?
August
