And the Death Riders didn’t seem like the type of people who would just overlook the assault in the Bronx. After a painstaking crawl through New York, Sam soon found himself able to open up the impressive engine of his hire car as he cruised through Philadelphia. It was a city he’d always wanted to visit, but with the open road ahead of him, the engine roared with pride as he soon left it in his rear-view. As he crossed the Susquehanna River, Sam soon found himself passing through vast, open countryside, with the odd sign posting him off towards towns such as Emmorton and Bel Air. Sam stopped for gas at a roadside station, with a helpful old man filling his tank and thanking Sam for the generous tip. Sam stocked up on a few cans of energy drink and a sandwich, and he devoured all of it as he passed through Baltimore. The longer the drive went on, the more restless he became, and after passing through and into Washington, he felt himself begin to lag.

It was time to rest and as he passed through the state capital; he pulled into a motel just outside of the town of Fredericksburg. The Marsh Motel was as he’d expected. As cliché as anything seen on TV, the large parking lot was framed with an L-shaped building, comprised fourteen rooms, all of them identikit. At the far end, the reception office sat, and Sam parked the black Mustang in the space nearest to the reception. Then, with his body calling for any kind of bed, he turned the key and killed the ignition.

Alex would have to wait until the morning and Sam pushed open the car door, swung his legs out, and hauled himself up. Every muscle in his body was stiff, and Sam stretched the knots clear, his back thanking him with a slightly worrying crack. As Sam looked around at the motel, he saw a woman walk out from one of the rooms, marching with a purpose to the only other car parked in the lot. She was about thirty years old, pretty, although the bags under her eyes and her messy, mousy brown hair told Sam she hadn’t slept in a while.

The tears streaming down her face told him the motel hadn’t been in her plans. As she approached her car, she noticed Sam and wiped away the tears with the back of her arm. Sam offered her a smile.

‘You okay?’ Sam asked, raising his voice slightly to cover the ten feet between the cars.

‘Don’t worry about it.’ She shrugged. ‘You ain’t from round here, are you?’

‘I’m just passing through.’

‘Lucky you.’ She chuckled, pulling a packet of cigarettes from her jeans and popping one in her mouth. ‘Want one?’

‘No thanks.’

‘Suit yourself. The name’s Tammy.’