They went on, speed dropping back to twenty in the drifts, but Kurtz guessed conditions would improve as they got farther south. “It’s all right. They’re calling and I can’t answer them. No longer.
Was it down to six yet, or was he being optimistic? Giving those old endorphins a little too much free rein? Well, so what if he was? Optimism couldn't hurt at this point. 'Hello, it's Jones,' he says. The storm was over, and his hip hurt a bit less now. The stench that filled the Humvee was the smell of the red cancer growing in Pearly's sewage-treatment plant, first feeding on his wastes, then getting to the good stuff.
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