“Well, this sucks.” Fletcher threw his rock, sending it arching high through the air to smash against the side of a rusted car with a loud thunk. “Ten.”
“Yeah.” Mark’s rock fell short, kicking up a small cloud of dust. “Dang. Nil.”
“Is she sure it’s real though?”
“How do you mean?”
“Like, you know. I dunno.” Fletcher took a swig of beer to mask his discomfort. Even out here, away from town in the crumbling junkyard, questioning the Sister felt wrong. It was like she was watching now, disapproving of his doubt in that stern silent way of hers. “Is she sure it’s really a vision? Not just like—you know, a dream?”
Mark looked at him incredulously. “It’s the word of God, dude. I’m pretty sure she can tell the difference. Your throw.”
With a comically big windup, Fletcher threw another rock, scoring a glancing blow on the side of an old oil drum. “Five. I know, but—who knows, maybe she’s wrong on this one.” “She’s never been wrong before. Ten.” “It just feels so sudden. I mean, why here? Why now?”
“Why does anything happen anywhere? There’s no point trying to make sense of it all. All part of God’s plan, right?”
“I guess.” Fletcher threw another stone. “You think there’ll be any other signs?”
“Like what?”
