The Blank Channel

Outside, Dale Harker was talking to Evan in the rain. Dale looked like a man holding something down inside himself. Evan looked smooth, calm, too polished. He glanced toward the window, right at the corner where they were hiding, as if he already knew what they would do. “Back door,” Tobin said. The five of them slipped out through a side storage corridor, cut across the parking lot, and ran past a row of wet newspaper boxes. Rain hammered the pavement in little drumbeats. Cal led the way, slid in a puddle, and nearly ate the ditch. “Don’t touch me,” he said, gasping. “I’ve already hit my comedy quota for the day.” “You always have one,” Jessa shot back.