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Although I doubted I’d have another run-in with Arnie and Cal — a tow truck had come along to haul Arnie’s damaged Ford F-250 away, since the lightning bolt hadn’t just shattered the windows but had also burned out the vehicle’s computerized “brain” — I still got up early and dressed hurriedly, wanting to get out of Walden as quickly as possible. There was a diner serving breakfast down the street, but I didn’t dare run the risk of meeting anyone who might have been friends with either of the two men. Probably, neither of them had made any connection between their harassment of me and the lightning strike that had blown out Arnie’s truck, and yet it felt safer to slink away without anyone noticing. I still had some trail mix left over from the day before, and I figured I’d stop to grab
