pining among the pines
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The highway stretched on, dark and open, still a few hours until daylight and even longer to New York.
Somewhere up ahead David could see a figure rising to its feet on the side of the road. As he got a little bit closer, the truck’s lights revealed a man standing next to a huge bag, thumb kicked out.
He didn’t know why he did it - David was no stranger to true crime documentaries, and even if this guy wasn’t a serial killer, he was at best a smelly vagrant that David shouldn’t choose to share a vehicle with.
But David was alone, and he was tired.
David never makes it to the Amish farm, and meets Patrick a little ahead of schedule.