CHAPTER 56
Jeff’s feet were killing him by the time they reached the neighbor’s farm house. Shelley had still worn her boots as they left her quarters, her underground condo, but he’d missed the opportunity to kick into his while contemplating the crystalline bear. Every pebble, every twig, every blade of grass dug through his shredded socks. A city kid never had tough feet. Especially not fifty-five year old city kids.
His clothes had dried in the first half of the three-mile trot and then been instantly soaked by a sudden cloudburst for the second half. His pleasure at breathing fresh air for the first time in a week was replaced by the agony of not being able to get enough of it into his chest as they ran.
Shelley pounded on the red farmhouse door, but there was no response.
He hobb
