Race the Night
The road stretched out before him, and the interior of the car was silent except for the sound of tires on the asphalt. The radio had melted into static as soon as he had reached the valley floor and he had clicked it off with a frustrated sigh. The silence closed in around him, and he tried not to think of it as a suffocating blanket and more as a comforting weight.
His cell phone rang on the seat beside him and he twitched, the car wavering slightly. He had toyed with the idea of tossing it out the window miles behind him, but he was not reckless or stupid. Even if he never wanted to talk to another human being again, the cell phone was his only lifeline and he knew it. Tossing it would almost be like giving up on what he was leaving behind.
The phone soon fell silent again, and he didn’t bother to check to see who it was. He didn’t want to know. Knowing someone still wanted to talk to him might be too tempting, and he just might turn the car around and attempt to pick up the pieces. And that was something he absolutely refused to do.
It started ringing again, and this time, without looking at the display, he ignored the call and switched off the device, wondering why he hadn’t thought of that earlier. He returned his focus to the road and frowned, because the sun was beginning to set and he was, unfortunately, heading west. He flipped the visor down, but it only helped for awhile. Soon he was at the mercy of the bright orange glow.
The dying rays of the sun flooded the interior of the car and glinted off the dust in the air. It was blinding in more ways than one, and he felt strangely exposed. He pressed a little harder on the accelerator, wishing that he could race the night, make it fall faster, and allow him to hide again.