Carly took a few steps back and held her sleeve over her mouth. “No, don’t do that.”
Ophelia sniggered, and tipped the last quarter of coffee from her mug onto the mud. “Actions speak louder than words, young lady.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay. I have one face mask left. A used one. What else can we do, eh? I’m gonna ride this wave till it crashes. Help as many poor souls out of the s**t as I can before I drop.”
Without a care in the world, Ophelia walked out of the tent and into the cold, gray daylight.
Everywhere she turned offered a glimpse of doom—from the about-to-die to the left in the red tents, to the blatant hypochondriacs who’d managed to locate their whereabouts via social media and drive the seventeen miles from valley central.
An elderly man shrieked his last from one of
