Keane
She took two beers and gave one to me.
“It’s really not bad here,” she said, twisting off the cap. “As long as you keep your nose down and your brain in check, most people survive.”
“Most people?”
She shrugged. “Some don’t.”
Before I could ask her to clarify, I spotted Keane staring at me from across the fire. He was sitting on a large boulder, a bottle of beer in one hand as he watched through narrowed eyes. I couldn’t read the expression on his face, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to. What was going through his mind?
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