Separations
“Speak up and speak slowly. I’m old and don’t understand all this newfangled whoziwhatsits.”
Johanna
We were at the train station at dawn. All three of my companions had full duffels and full stomachs. Jeremy pulled another baby carrot from the family-sized bag he carried and crunched it in half. He hadn’t stopped eating since I got back from the grocery store.
Alison didn’t like the idea. But she liked the idea of being chased by the Storm even less and so wasn’t going to put up more than a token fight. Because Alison and I both knew that if push came to shove, she would win—and deep down, she didn’t want to.
“We agreed,” I said. “I have to get back, help the Mountaineers finish this. You three have done more than enough, been through enough. Let me take it from here.”
“
