The Long Walk...

Robert hit the ground hard. His head, stuffed uncomfortably in the soaking, sweaty burlap bag, slammed into the hot earth. He heard the click of a knife blade locking into place. As his heart quickened, he felt a tug on the rope binding his hands. The cords gave way and he was released. He tore the bag from his face, ready to breathe in the hot dry air, but was met only by his trusted associate. Alexander struck the doctor and rolled over in the dust, lying face up.
"Farewell, gentlemen!" called Professor Lambert, from the driver's seat. He sped off in a cloud of dust, leaving Robert and Alex behind. Coughing, Robert clamored to his feet and watched the Professor's red Ferrari shrink and blend with the rising heat waves. He brushed the dust from his shirt and looked at his friend on the ground.
"Well, that's it, I suppose," he said. He turned back to watch the last bit of scarlet sports car fade away. Waiting for his comrade to move, he brushed a bit more dust from his shirt, adjusted his collar and ran his hand through his sweaty hair. Disgusted, he rubbed the mess off on his pants. "Alex?" He asked, cautiously, looking the man over. There was no movement. "Alex!" The man did not stir. Robert fell to his knees and rolled him onto his back. There was a large wet spot and a hole in his shirt. Robert ran his finger along the edge of the wet spot and it came away, stained red. His heart raced and the sweat on his brow took an icy chill to it. His ears buzzed as if a gun had gone off near his head. And a voice came.
"Hello, Doctor," it said, familiarly. "By now, I'm long gone and you've discovered the little present I left inside your friend." Robert clenched his fists and his blood began to froth in his veins. "There is a small jug of water about a hundred miles due East. The sun his now at Solar Noon. If you wait a few minutes and calm down, you should make it to the water by dawn. I wish you the best of luck, my old friend. Now, rest up. You've got a long walk ahead of you."
Robert fell on his back, shaking with the heat both inside and out. He let out a roar that shook the stones at his feet and slammed his fists into the ground, sending bits of caked mud flying. As he lay there on the ground, breathing heavily, sweat pouring down his face, the sun glaring down at him, he heard a quiet ticking.
"Oh, and one more thing," the professor's voice said. "You'd better get going," The ticking grew louder. Robert leapt to his feet and sprinted away as his partner exploded into a ball of flame and body parts, some of which struck his back. As the carnage fell, he turned around and studied the smoking, bloody crater for a moment. A bit of scalp landed next to his feet and a small mist of blood had coated his face. Robert lowered his head. "Good-bye, Alex," he said, and he turned to the east, beginning the long walk.

Just one o' those nights...

Tears welling up in his eyes, he slammed his foot down hard on the gas. The sound of the music flew out the open windows, meeting the cold air as it rushed in, lovingly ruffling his hair. He turned the heavy guitars up until the nob wouldn't move anymore and flew around the corner. He passed a sign that read "Speed Limit 45 mph" and grinned maniacally as he looked at his speedometer and saw that it read twice that. He swung around another corner, swerving into the wrong lane and narrowly missing a mailbox. He tore through a small village. Noticing the speed limit was 25 mph, he lightly tapped the brake pedal, slowing down but not enough. He turned the music down to avoid waking the sleeping town. As he zipped through the quiet streets, the song changed. "Who am I but you in the sun? A sad reflection of everyone" The song continued as he got the edge of the village. Then, as he passed a sign reading "Speed limit 35" already going twice that, he put his foot back on the floor, revving his engine in sync with the song's crescendo. "Look at me!" his stereo screamed. He tore up the hill, the wind whipping at his eyes, dragging the tears back to his ears, which burned with the cold. In no time, he came to another town, this one with a higher speed limit, still irrelevant to his actual speed. He raced up the long shallow hill toward the red light, showing no sign of slowing, or any intention of it. With the light still red, he broke through the intersection, passing the white church and the gas station like old people on a highway. In seconds he was out of the town and back on the dark road, music leaving a trail of fading sound behind him. He threw on his blinker and turned onto the Taconic, speeding up as he rounded the curve to merge. His foot back on the floor, he roared down the quiet highway. He drove for a while until he came to a point to turn around. Switched pedals, but kept his foot on the floor. The tires screamed as the car spun around. Now facing the opposite direction, he hurtled down the road until he came to a small rest stop. It was a small parking lot, a place for children to pee and parents too look at maps, cluelessly. He turned off his car and got out. He opened the trunk and took out his horrified guitar. He closed the trunk went around to the front. After a minute and a half, the lights went off and his eyes adjusted to the darkness. Behind him, the full moon shined her light brilliantly, lighting up the valley below him. He smiled a bit and wiped his eyes dry. Wrapping the guitar over his shoulder, he leaned back on the warm hood of the car, resting his back against the windshield. A car drove by and he laughed to himself.
"Just one o' those nights," he said, and he began to play.