There was an old saying, that God looked after sleepwalkers. Ray didn't know much about God, he didn't even know if he believed in him...or her. Whatever. It didn't stand to reason to him that God should be good either way so he didn't bring the saying up.
"They ain't good," he answered, rubbing the back of his sore neck. He looked around, brows knitting together. His hair was damp and there was an empty water bottle in his free hand. "Where the heel am I anyway?" he asked.