“Why are you stopping here?” Taylor asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He couldn’t have slept for more than forty-five minutes to an hour, but he still felt a hell of a lot better. “Just nervous I guess. Being here means it’s time to face reality. My stomach’s tied in knots, dude.” Taylor leaned over and glanced at the instrument panel. “By the skin of our teeth, huh?” He was looking at the gas gauge; the needle hovered just below the “E.” “Oh, yeah, that. And I guess it’s accurate ‘cuz there were times at the end where it seemed like this baby was gonna crap out. Probably nothing left but fumes.” “Then don’t waste gas just sitting here.” “Aren’t you worried at all?” Taylor stared at him, his eyes narrowing the slightest bit. “What kind of a question is that, little brother? I’m as scared shitless as you, but we didn’t come all this way to chicken out. Now put this piece of junk in drive and let’s face whatever reality there is to face.”
