Demarcus James awoke in a blind hunger, not knowing where he was.
His body hurt. He was alone in the shapeless dark.
Most of the last 188 nights have passed this way. After he forged through mountain ranges and high deserts, isolated prairies and on highways in the shadows of semitrucks. Just him on his skateboard, taking refuge by night in motels or in a tent, sometimes in the rain. With little beyond his aching hunger and his will, he continued eastward…