He doesn't appreciate her rhetoric.

Sam's eyes narrow slightly on her. The shake of his head is not in response - not to Jo, anyway, but maybe to the words in his head. He walks away from her, out the back door.

The the backyard, filled with rubble, like haphazardly thrown gravel, and trees with branches out of a Salvador Dali painting.

He knows who did this.


exploded rocks and melted trees


He just doesn't know what.