The Big Empty

A REIGN OF THUNDER-1

A REIGN OF THUNDER

I

It happened pow, like that. One minute he’d been blasting through the Arizona desert and listening to Martha and the Vandellas sing “Heat Wave” on the Mustang’s AM radio, and the next he was pulling over, rumbling to a stop on the shoulder of State Route 87 and idling in place as the good-looking hitchhiker jogged to catch up with him.

“Man, am I glad to see you,” she panted, opening the door—then froze, suddenly, examining the cab, peering into the backseat. “No body parts in that cooler? No murder weapons?”

“Only these,” He held up his hands. “Registered as deadly weapons in fifty states. And Puerto Rico.”

“Is that so?” She laughed, appearing relieved, then climbed in and shut the door. “So where you headed, Deadly Hands?”

“New Mexico. Albuquerque.”

“That’ll do.” She took one of his hands and examined it. “Nah, these are too pretty.” She traced his fingers, studying them. “A dentist’s, maybe. Or a lab technician.” When he didn’t say anything, she added: “No? Something creative, then. Nebulous. An artist, maybe. Or a photographer.”

He shifted in his seat uncomfortably, unsure whether he was getting creeped out by her touch and directness—or a hard-on. He glanced her up and down quickly: the slender figure, the long, dark hair—the brown eyes like a doe in heat. Definitely a hard-on. “Look, I—”

“A writer, I think,” she said, suddenly, and let go of his hand. “Ha! Am I warm?”

He opened his mouth to speak but closed it immediately, seeing only Heller and the office at 123 Wilshire Blvd—the cheap suit, the s**t-eating grin—his hard-on withering like a prune in September.

“No,” he said at last, gripping the gearshift, pushing in the clutch. “You’re cold. Cold as f*****g Pluto.”

And then they were moving, crossing the rumble strip and picking up speed, the engine growling, leaping up, the sweltering sun beating down, as she looked at him, curiously, quizzically, and he tried to ignore her. As the mercury in the little thermometer on the dash topped 90 degrees—and kept climbing.

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