It was overwhelming, but I understood. And given how things were going, it suited me very much that no one found anything suspicious about how my house had exploded. So I let it go and didn’t ask any more questions about it.
It was final—we had to keep moving, because we had no choice but to reach the sawmill, who knew if not straight into the enemy’s claws. I can’t say I hadn’t thought it, that part of me didn’t suspect (and not without reason) that it could all be part of the same trap, but Rex’s hope was my hope: getting a phone.
If only I had been a little smarter and grabbed my cell phone instead of a knife…
The Berkeley sawmill wasn’t closed; it was just slowed down until the situation with the owner, who had died a couple of weeks earlier, was resolved. Before, on clearer morning
