Serious Protection
FMJ
(1)

Her stomach was growling and she was hungry now because she had neglected to stop at the little diner in town close to Pop’s Garage for dinner. Living on trail mix, vitamins and bottled water, she had gratefully accepted the ice cold bottle of orange soda Pop had offered while he fixed the strange noise in her car. She had decided it was more important to be another day closer to home than stopping to eat and rest. She knew it might not have been the best decision. She ultimately lost the battle with fatigue and hunger just past three in the morning when her heavy eyelids closed. She fell fast asleep behind the wheel of the low slung blue sports car though it continued on, now fully autonomous, boring through the night, perfect and unwavering at high speed.
She awoke slowly to the silence and absence of vibration, nestled comfortably in the soft leather upholstery of the driver’s seat, cool air caressing her face. She yawned and stretched; opening her eyes to the sight of golden sunlight streaming in through the car windshield . . . and froze in alarm when she realized she had no memory of the late night drive or of even stopping. She bolted upright in the seat in a panic to stare in all directions only to see that her car was indeed stationary and safely parked in a space at a roadside rest stop alongside three other cars and two long haul trucks.
“Where am I, how did I get here?” she managed to stammer in confusion as she gasped for breath.
The instrument panel with its confusing array of gauges, lights and indicators immediately went dark drawing her attention to the dash where a single line of script scrolled slowly across it.
We are currently at a rest stop on I-80 in southern Nevada…