Chapter 6

Shit. I’d obviously misread the signals. Oh, well; win some, lose some.

There were some sandwiches laid out on the table, and I snatched one before one of the APs could get to it. They could have left us more.

“Rest of what, Doc?” I checked out the map. “And what’s with the lower altitude thing?”

He smiled at me. I liked Dr. Van Allyn. He was a widower, and when his son Tony had brought home a skinny, beat-up fifteen-year-old—”He followed me, Dad. Can I keep him?”—he and his wife had treated me with kindness, something my own parents had never done. Tony and I had been friends for twenty years, and Doc and I…Well, I liked him.

And I could see he wasn’t going to answer my question. I took an absentminded bite of the sandwich and had to fight to keep from spitting it out. The bread was dry and the lunch meat tasted like cardboard. Whoever had made these could have done a better job.