Harper
Vane stared at the tracks for three more seconds, then yanked the wheel.
The transport peeled off the main road and plowed into a service track choked with shoulder-high weeds. The suspension stopped pretending it cared. My right shoulder banged the door frame and I bit through the inside of my cheek before any sound got out. Vane's eyes flicked to me in the mirror. The needle dropped half a notch.
I pulled the comm out of my pocket. NO SIGNAL across the screen in white block letters.
I tried again. New band. Restart. Boot sequence. Try again.
Nothing.
I flipped it face down on my thigh and stared at the windshield.
"Towers only cover the camps themselves," Vane said, half a minute later. "Once we're between them, we're dark."
"So I can't get her on a line."
"Not until Camp
