Chapter 51
PINEWOOD BARELY qualifies as a dirt road. It runs along a barren stretch of northern shore too rocky for a beach and too chaotic to build on, weaving between tilted slabs of pale gray slate and green-speckled granite dredged up by glaciers ten thousand years ago. Before Absolute, it had been home to outcast seagulls and the most stubborn weeds. Now, the only life was the tree line a couple dozen yards inland, with the looming, bright green presence of the alien Lake Huron behind it.
I’d only just turned onto Pinewood when I saw Pendleton’s dilapidated truck coming towards me at a good clip. We both had to slow down and hug our edge of the road to pass each other, and still his driver’s side mirror would have clipped mine if it hadn’t been a foot higher.
The massive Pendleton
