The Motel
The van grinds to a halt in the motel’s car park, and Sands is out of it almost before it’s stopped moving, staggering as his feet hit the ground. The sandy, dusty, still considerably deserty ground.
His scowl deepens and, rubbing at his sore wrists, he heads towards the motel. Whether anyone follows him or not is of no concern.
His scowl deepens and, rubbing at his sore wrists, he heads towards the motel. Whether anyone follows him or not is of no concern.