“No blood,” he whispered, and breathed a bit easier. He turned away and threw open his door. “Be right back.”
Savanna reached over and switched off the ignition, then got out of the truck and jogged to catch up with him. A convoy of motorcycles roared past dangerously close, hurling sludgy water at them like flying shrapnel. The blast of its passage furled their clothes and jostled their hair.
Roger leaned forward with his hands on his knees and scanned the tall grass. The wind blew all around him and the plains responded. A million tall blades of grass did The Wave.
“Nothing,” he said.
“Honey ...” Savanna’s whispering voice was but a pale sound beside him. “Look ...”
He looked up to find her staring off into the distance, and matched her gaze.
“Holy Jesus,” he murmured, and stood st
