The Distant Journey
Chapter One In the western suburbs of Sydney, the ground does not care who owns it, only that the water is rising. Carl Stroud stood on the wet concrete of the stadium tunnel, watching the floodwaters lick at the base of the grandstand, a grey, churning mouth that swallowed the first rows of seats where the floodlights used to blind the players. He was thirty-two years old, a groundskeeper for...
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