Lawhead @page { margin-bottom: 10.000000pt; margin-top: 10.000000pt; } Ten The rain spattered like soft bullets on the windscreen, making the road ahead a blur of gray bounded on either side by long streaks of dull, formless green. James felt as if someone had put grains of sand under his eyelids. The train had been late into Pitlochry, and it would be light before they reached Braemar. Cal was slumped in the passenger seat beside him, his head resting against the window, dead to the world. “You sure you’re okay?” Cal had asked for the twenty-fifth time as they climbed into the faded blue vehicle in the train station parking lot. “I’m fine.” James unlocked the door and climbed in. “Look, why don’t you let me drive?” offered Cal. “You can take it easy — sleep if you want. I don’t mind.” “I’m fine,” James insisted. “I don’t mind.” Cal hovered at the driver’s-side door.
