Chapter 63

Close to home, a sudden gale pierced through layers of clothes, cutting him to the bone. With a gasp, Jay stumbled, going to one knee. Pain blunted by the chill whistling wind snapped off his cry. Half a minute went by, during which he ordered his body to move, and his muscles refused. The bright lights shining out from adjacent windows mocked him. If he didn’t shift, someone maybe walking a dog might yet find him a frozen corpsicle come morning.

Time to get up, Jay.

He pushed up, his movements stilted, awkward.

Christ. I might as well have rigour.