Serial Uncut
“"You never know who's going to pick you up." Donaldson wiped sweat from his brow and eyed the driver through the half-open passenger side window of the Lincoln Continental. The driver was average-looking, roughly Donaldson's age, dressed in a dark suit that matched the car's paint job.
"I'm roasting out here, man," Donaldson said. And it wasn't far from the truth. He'd been walking down this desolate highway for damn near three hours in the abusive, summer sun. "My car died. If you want to rob or kill me, that's fine, as long as you have air conditioning." Donaldson forced a bright smile, hoping he looked both pathetic and non-threatening. It must have worked, because the man hit a switch on his armrest, and the door unlocked.
Must be nice being rich, Donaldson mused at the fancy automatic locks.
Then he opened the door and heaved his bulk onto the leather seat.
"Thanks," he said.
The car was cooler than outside, but not by much. Donaldson wondered if the man's air worked. He placed h...is hand against the vent, felt a trickle of cold leaking out.MoreLess
"I'm roasting out here, man," Donaldson said. And it wasn't far from the truth. He'd been walking down this desolate highway for damn near three hours in the abusive, summer sun. "My car died. If you want to rob or kill me, that's fine, as long as you have air conditioning." Donaldson forced a bright smile, hoping he looked both pathetic and non-threatening. It must have worked, because the man hit a switch on his armrest, and the door unlocked.
Must be nice being rich, Donaldson mused at the fancy automatic locks.
Then he opened the door and heaved his bulk onto the leather seat.
"Thanks," he said.
The car was cooler than outside, but not by much. Donaldson wondered if the man's air worked. He placed h...is hand against the vent, felt a trickle of cold leaking out.MoreLess
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