She considered suggesting they stop somewhere for a bite but decided not to for two main reasons—the alien cargo in the back of the truck and the pain of experiencing Brad attempting to shift gears again. In a moment of inspiration, she opened the truck’s glove compartment and found, amid several badly folded maps and wadded-up receipts, a candy bar and a half-eaten roll of breath mints. “Score,” she said, holding them up. “Main course and dessert.” “Any pancakes in there? I have a hankering for some pancakes.” “It’s a glove compartment, Brad. No pancakes.” She broke the candy bar in two and handed him half. “Cheers,” he said, holding his half forward between them. She met it with her own half. “Cheers.” They ate their respective pieces quickly. “Mint?” she asked. “I’d better pace myself.” She shrugged, popped a mint into her mouth and sat back. “Tell me a story, Brad. It’s going to be a long ride.” He grunted. “I’m not sure I know any stories.”
