Even over the truck’s roar, the booming rumbled through the ground: drums, footsteps, thunder. When the truck blew another tire on the road four miles south of Scranton, they could see the war in the sky. The city’s light projected onto the belly of the monsoon. Flashes of fire, then the sounds o...
You know, Rufus’s son. Maybe you think of him as the good Peter, your first friend way back at the beginning, at Sylvie’s wedding on the lawn of the house, and in Granada, when he was forced to start running. That Peter is still running. If this were a different kind of story, that Peter would do...