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bills, carefully folded and securely wedged in the tiny compartment behind his I.D. Eight hundred big green ones, Charlie figured, ought to be enough to handle just about anything the lady could conjure up. |
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Damn that Goldstein; he didn't warn him that the road switched back on itself several times, and he didn't tell him about the incline, either. The old Buick was equal to the task so far, but he had to hope the storm didn't get any worse. |
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There was a sudden gust of wind. The snow swirled and twisted on the hood of his car, forcing him to drop the lumbering beast down a gear. Pine branches staggered dramatically under the weight of the wet snow, bending to the ground; even the trees had given up. The storm's onslaught was relentless. Charlie grunted and slumped further down in his seat; the band of visibility through the foggy windshield was narrowing rapidly. The day was getting grayer. It was getting harder to tell the difference between earth and sky. |
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Now he had no choice. The party was tomorrow night, and the next day it was the big silver MATS bird back to the good old Statesthe States and the separation from active duty. The final and bitter farewell to the Air Force and six years of chicken shit and ugly memories. |
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