The unmistakable sound of rolling tyres on smooth tarmac. Cold sweat envelopes her body. Her tongue lies heavy in a dry mouth. Fingers tremble.

A door slams. A knock on the window. A muffled voice.

‘Are you okay? Can I help?’’

She hears the word ‘help’, looks up at the dark outline of a man's face pressed against the window; there's no backing out of this one.

She rolls down the window slightly. Her lips tremble. Sharp teeth catch her tongue. ‘The…the car won’t start.’

‘Got any cables?’

‘The car's new. Got her yesterday. I didn't think to check for cables.’

‘Well, even a new car can be dud,' he says, grinning. 'I’m Skate Prim. What's a good looking woman doing on a lonely road?’

Liezl has no answer. She steps from the vehicle, pen knife in her hand poised to strike.

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