Two women at Nashville (Arkansas) High School put into place a system for the school's athletic program that would send Rock the same sort of live and archival data he had theretofore found reserved for college teams. Unfortunately, his internet connection had failed.
The women were at Rock's new house to help, but Nashville's boys had a basketball game scheduled to start in just a few minutes. Rock had to cover it. He, indeed, absolutely had to. It was by far the most important assignment of his life.
"Are you sure you've ever had access to the internet?" one of the women said. "I didn't think you could get it out here."
Of course, he couldn't. He knew that now.
The house stood in the heart of a grove of old oaks and pecan trees near a sprawling apartment complex two miles out of town on Old Centerpoint Highway. It was no more than a hundred yards off the best road for running Rock had ever found in Nashville, and it was built on a post and pier foundation twenty feet above the ground, with clear views of the pastures and cattle and woodlands all around. From the start, Rock loved everything about his house.
None of that mattered now. He had to have access to the game. The women assured him he couldn't have it and never would, not in this house. The internet would never reach it. Rock knew he was ruined with no way out.
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