Noah thinks. He thinks about finding work, he thinks about his past, he thinks about the fucked-up lives both his parents led and how he turned out so apart from that. He thinks about the storm and the thunder and lightning that continuously stem from far above. He thinks about his driving and how fucking annoying the rain is while driving. He thinks about the mysterious stranger who he just picked up and what his story is. He thinks about the beats the rain is pounding out on the windshield. Noah thinks.
Leo thinks. He thinks about why he is going to Machias, and what he is going to do there. He thinks about what will happen if he fails. He thinks about who was chasing him and he wonders where they are now. He thinks about what would happen if they had caught up. He thinks about his wife and child, and as a single tear blossoms in his right eye and roll, unnoticed by Noah, down his cheek to mix with the moisture of the rain already on his face, he thinks about killing himself. But most of all, the thought presiding over all the others, he thinks of rain. Leo thinks.
Rain thinks. He thinks of massive power, of oppression, of bottomless wealth and endless death. He thinks about fire and chaos and the fucking glory of it all. He thinks about the snake, and of the storm, its growing intensity pleasing him. Rain thinks.