CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
The gloomy afternoon had pitched into darkness about an hour ago. Why did this hellstorm have to go down on one of the shortest days of the year? Another curse for the firies and techies trying to do their thing.
Still, Franklin was able to navigate his way via the umbrella of light from the portable spotties and the sliver of moon above with only the odd flash of his torch. He found Lunny at the chook pen. His fingers were threaded through the chicken wire, and the mesh sagged where his forehead rested into it.
The sarge showed no sign he’d noticed Franklin’s approach. He could still rethink this.
No, he couldn’t. He said, ‘Hey.’
Lunny didn’t lift his head. ‘John.’
Probably knew I was here all along.
‘Tough day, Tim.’
Lunny’s answering sigh made the chooks sti
