Road Block

“Wanna try Mexican,” Rachel asked Bryan. 

“I guess,” Bryan answered lazily, his head resting on the passenger side window. He observed the Arizona desert as it passed him by. The two cruised over the charred pavement. The air conditioner on max could barely keep them cool as the sun baked them inside.

Rachel turned to him with her hands still on the steering wheel. “What do you mean you guess? There’s nothing to eat for another fifty miles,” she said, waiting for a reply. 

“So why’d you ask me,” he asked, still staring at the rolling desert.

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CONTINUE?

 A little over twelve minutes remained on the clock. 

“How many minutes left?”

“Ten minutes. Maybe.”

Luther pressed his wristwatch for a ten minute timer. Luther stood at one side of the dark, damp stone cellar while James was ok the opposite end. Both were decked in military gear, covered in sweat and dirt. Luther stood upright, peeling off his gear, piece by piece. James crouched down, wringing his hands together.

“This will be the longest ten minutes of your life, boy,” Luther said, with a wry grin.

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