Guardian in the Dust

We were wandering through a dry and dusty unknown town, with buckets of sweat pouring down our faces. There I was, sitting in the passenger seat of a semi-truck with a woman that I barely knew behind the wood-grain wheel. Her dingy tank top and black snapback hat cocked to the side were enough for me to see that she was quite the woman. 

The radio buzzed as a pair of beads clicked and clacked against the front mirror, feeling the air like cream inside a donut. Then, for some strange reason, a change occurred. Her behavior became chaotic. I knew something was off when she smashed her foot on the gas and sent us up a gated hill as if something were chasing us. Deep inside, something spoke that we were both in danger.