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The passenger turned slowly in his seat and looked at him. For the first time, Charlie got a real good look at the haunted emptiness in the man's hollow, lifeless eyes, the likes of which Charlie had never seen before, almost totally void of color. It sent a momentary chill racing down his back, an altogether different kind of chill than the one induced by the icy world outside. |
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Anxious now to get on with it, Charlie gunned the big beast and felt the rear end drift slightly to one side. But, just like Charlie figured it would, it slowly began to inch its way forward, plowing a new set of furrows in the drifted, narrow road. |
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To Charlie's surprise, he discovered that the old man wasn't a talker. He had figured he would be. Instead, he rode in silence until they reached the outskirts of the tiny village. Only then did he inquire why Charlie was out on such a foul day. |
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The truth was, Charlie Frazier felt a little foolish, and he knew he would feel even more so if he admitted out loud his real purpose for being out on a day like this. Still, he figured, what the hell, he knew he would never see the old man again, and it was a whole lot easier to be honest with the old-timer than to go to the trouble of making something up. Admissions to complete strangers, in Charlie Frazier's book, were a whole lot easier than admitting |
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