Joe grunted again.
The truck lurched around a turn. The rain beat down. I opened my eyes and looked down past Joe's head. Just then a flash of lightning lit up the night. I caught a glimpse of a narrow two-lane asphalt road and stunted scrub pine growing in what looked like sandy ground.
"Hey!" I shouted. "This isn't the Montauk Highway. This isn't the way back. What's going on?"
"Just get some sleep, will you?" Joe said. "Detour back there."
"Wasn't any detour when we came out."
"Well, there's a detour now."
I was wide awake. I didn't like the way Joe sounded. "Listen," I said. "The road's fine. There wasn't anything wrong with the road. So why the detour?"
"Flash flood, I guess."
"It's raining. But it hasn't been raining that long and it isn't raining that hard."
"So I'm not the highway commission," Joe said. "Now get some sleep, will you?"