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"ASWELL. FAIRFIELD. CARVER!"
"You're lucky, Skipper. You're going to touch three states... about 70 miles to do it"
"I figure I can make ten miles an hour"
"Lucky if you can make five. Or even four. I don't think you're going to make it today, Skipper"
The man calls out the names like the train announcer at North Station in Boston. His voice gravelly, as if his throat is full of stones.
He consults the map again, Adam is told he will have to cover seventy miles, he was anxious and uncomfortable but he was a nice old man.
The old man, who seemed to just be hanging around, was eager to help, using a gauge to measure the air and then hunting up a map.
Adam discusses with the old man, the expected length and duration of the journey while, still consulting with his map.
It has turned cold now and the sun has disappeared behind the clouds. The man turns away, looks up to the sky and begins to tell Adam the world isn't what it seems. "It's a terrible world out there."
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