The morning sun was already hot as I emerged, bleary eyed, from the motel room and faced the day. It was going to be a long one, I knew. A vast tract of parched desert stretched almost endlessly between us and the more welcoming coast - our final destination. I could hear my wife, Christine, busy inside the room, packing the few items that we had used for the one night stop-over. I stretched my arms above me and yawned, letting the warmth of the sun bathe and caress my torso. Time to move on again.
After a light breakfast of coffee and eggs I fired up the 4X4. She seemed to be running a little rough, I thought. But I paid it little attention, the car was almost new and, so far, had been completely faultless. Anyway, only two or three days more driving and we would be at our new beach-front home. I'm sure it was the thought of long, lazy evenings watching the sun go down over the ocean that had kept both Chris and I going through the long journey.
As the morning progressed, so the temperature began to soar. The air-conditioning was already turned up to full power, but even then the inside of the car was hot and sticky. The radio played an endless selection of Country music and the monotonous scenery was nearly enough to send us to sleep. By midday I was about to suggest that Chris might like to drive for a while, when I heard a noise from the engine. Even above the radio it sounded bad, and in my experience, bad usually meant expensive! As I pulled the car over to the side of the road, the engine died completely.
The silence that seemed to cloak and envelop us was eerie. No traffic, not even bird sounds, just the ghostly whistle of the light breeze that fluttered and swirled the road dust around us. I looked north and then south along the straight line of the road. Nothing moved. Just silence.
"Is it bad?" called Chris from the passenger seat as I looked at the confusing array of wires and components in the engine compartment.
"Well, it won't go! I think that's bad enough, don't you?"
I immediately regretted my snappy tone of voice. It wasn't her fault. "Sorry, darling. Yes, I think it's bad."
"What are we going to do?
"I guess we'll just have to sit tight and wait until another car passes. We must be at least a hundred miles from any form of civilization, there's no point in trying to walk."
The only shade around was inside the car, and with no conditioned air we were both soaked through with sweat within a few minutes. Fortunately, Chris had thought to bring several gallon jugs of water with her, and the cool liquid kept us refreshed and fairly high spirited for nearly an hour.
The only sign of life came after nearly ninety minutes. Chris heard the noise first; a low rumbling from the north.
"A car!" she cried, jumping out of our vehicle to see.
I quickly joined her and we both stood on the side of the road shielding our eyes in an attempt to spot the vehicle. Sure enough, in the middle distance we could see the front of a truck driving towards us accompanied by great plumes of dust on either side. Frantically, we both started waving our arms about as the vehicle drew nearer: A big eighteen wheeled rig, gleaming chrome frontage. Finally, amidst swirling dust and the hiss of air-brakes, the truck slowed to a halt just in front of us.
"You folk's in trouble?" called a voice from the drivers window.
It was difficult to make out the man's features beneath the obligatory baseball cap and dark glasses. "You need some help?"
The driver jumped from the cab accompanied by three other grubby looking men. It looked like they had been on the road for some time.
"Mike here's pretty good with engines. He'll take a look for you."
I was grateful, but didn't hold out much hope of him being able to fix the problem on the side of the road. After he had made a brief inspection, my fears were confirmed.
"Nah, fuel line's broke!" Mike drawled as his head re-appeared from the dark recesses of the engine.
For a moment the four men, Chris and myself all looked at each other in silence.
"Little town about ninety miles south." The trucker said scratching his chin. "Could give you a ride as far as there. Garage service there should be able to sort you out!"
Both Chris and I breathed a sigh of relief. I thought for a moment they were going to leave us on the side of the road. The driver himself looked and sounded friendly enough, but the others were a little worrying, I wasn't sure I liked the way they seemed to be mentally assessing the value of my car. But we had little choice; sit out here and fry, or accept the ride.
As soon as the truck reached cruising speed, I regretted our decision. My concerns about the drivers crew seemed well founded as the mood in the cab soon began to change. I was about to say something when I heard a click and noticed that the cab doors had been automatically locked.
"Hey! Wait a -" I started.
My words were cut off abruptly by a fist being slammed into my chest. Doubled up in some considerable pain, it became more difficult to register what was now going on in the cab. Noise seemed to be coming from all directions; swearing, screams from Chris and shouts from the driver.
"Everybody SHUT THE FUCK UP!!" he suddenly yelled.
The cab quickly fell into silence.
"Just give us your cash and credit cards, man, and we might just let you live!" he smirked at me.
"No, man!" interrupted the taller member of the crew. "They've seen us. Seen all of us. We gotta get the cash and dump them, man. Out here they won't stand a chance, they'll be dead inside two hours."
"Okay, okay, maybe you're right. Fine, we'll just dump them. But not here on the road, another car could pass and pick them up. I know an old deserted house nearby, we'll take them there!"
I felt a pair of steel handcuffs being slipped over my wrists and a old rag was stuffed into my mouth and held in place by duct tape. I looked over at Chris, surprised to see that she wasn't crying, she seemed to be handling the situation well. The thought that Chris had never really wanted to move out here in the first place, struck me hard at this point. This situation must have just been the icing on the cake for her.
Another forty minutes drive and we approached a small, deserted shack stuck out in the middle of nowhere. Was this to be the last place we would ever see? A strange melancholy swept over me, I guess the type of inner peace that only accompanies a feeling of hopelessness. Chris and I were quickly bundled out of the cab and onto the dusty track that led to the broken front door. The fact that I was manacled and gagged and Chris was not, struck me as a little odd. As the man I remembered as Mike suddenly spoke up, my worst fears were realised.
"Hey, Hank. We got some time, how about a little fun with the bitch before we leave?"
This was a dread that had been playing around in the back of my mind ever since I was punched. I had tried to ignore it, but the situation was now very real: they were going to rape my wife.
"Sounds like a good idea." Replied the driver, "but what about him?"
