Graeme tried contacting everyone again on his way to the next destination—a small historic town in Wisconsin called Ripon—but the calls still weren't going through. Was it possible that the elders had done something to make them all unreachable while he was away?
It was still relatively early—just past 7pm—but he could feel his body trying to make him stop and rest. The nap at August's hadn't been enough, and now the wound to his chest was taking a lot of his energy to heal. This extra stress of not being able to get ahold of anyone was no doubt adding to his exhaustion.
He groaned and pulled off onto the side of the road. He needed to think clearly rather than riding this wave of revenge. This wasn't good. His thoughts were scattered all over the place, and when that happened, he tended to make stupid mistakes.
