Between them, these three men, a silence, of a few minutes, and several miles of distance. For the young man, a long drawn century of taut nerves. Frightened, frightening wary silence worsening, suitable more to screaming. A silence of unendurable endurance. If only something would intervene. Now! This instant! Break it up! Get him off the hook

The passenger in the front seat projected the weave of his thoughts, made of the image of the young man, sharp, uppermost in his mind. I thought he wanted me. I thought he understood-how I wanted him, he wanted meall he was waiting for was the word . . . I could have sworn he was attracted to me, thought he wanted me, I really did. So, it wasn't so, he doesn't . . . so, too bad... for me

In the transient dark the young man studied the back of the head before him, modeled, sculptured, set upon a beautiful male neck. What a fool he must seem now in the eyes of this man. That he did not speak, the young man thought of the hurt, worse, insult, this must seem to the man. Each second prolonging silence, flashing past, making it worse, impossible, to speak, to reply, to redeem himself with the man. And here he sat, frozen solid.

The words the man had spoken glittered; the moment in which they had been spoken glittered, solid, frozen solid. "Do you want to come home with me?" the man had said.

It wasn't as though the proposition had been unexpected. There wasn't anything he had expected more, lived in anticipation of, wanted more, than this. And nothing he would have been angrier of, if it had not been made. Then what made it so impossible . . . difficult. ..?

The man punched at the silence with his own thoughts continuing, what gives with him? He acts as though I've shocked him. Why?

He played along with me for all he was worth .. and he'll have a hell of a time denying that to me, or to himself! Or for all it was worth yeah! for all it was worth! Now it's put up or shut up! And he can't . . . put up. is that it?

@

But not on grounds of innocence, surely, baby! By his own admission he was no stranger to the scene . . . by his own admission yeah, that could be it. Maybe that could just be it. So maybe you've lied to ol' daddy? Is that it, baby? Are you green, after all is done and said?

The man's thoughts raced on ahead, in and out of the situation, twisting like a snake, caught, transfixed by a spike. Eyes straight before him, out the windshield, seeing only the night, traffic laced and arc lamp streaked by the freeway complex.

To the young man, the two men before him appeared so relaxed, to have not a care in the world, and more, not a thought for him, not really. This annoyed; now infuriated him.

Oh, how would they know? They couldn't care a damn! It was all so easy for them!

•

How silly! How fearful. How terribly and how horribly complex! How awful, fearful now . . . that it all lay before him open, clear ... naked and he could reply . . . nothing . . . only filled with . . . panic . . . how utterly absurd! Panic! Fantastic!

. .

What am I doing? What have I done? What am I doing to him? The man thought and the snake writhed upon the spike. I've shocked him. I've shocked this kid without any regard or thought for him. What in hell am I

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