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[ 18 [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ 19 [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ “Sure.” [ [ [ Just. [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ “I didn’t see one.” [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ The snow had stopped, but he wasn’t sure that was good for him. The slush was turning to ice, and that slowed him up more. Plus, without the snow, it was easier for any cops who might be driving by to get a look at him. [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ 20 [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ 21 [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ “Yes.” [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ 22 [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ 23 [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ 24 [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ For a moment there was silence, and then the quiet was shattered as sirens screamed and wailed. Lights from a dozen squad cars brightened the night as swarms of troopers raced to surround the overturned vehicle. Chris lay in the snow for a few seconds, hugging Brian to him, listening to the convergence of sounds. Then he heard a small relieved voice ask, “Are you St. Christopher?”
* * *