It's just my luck to get locked in a trunk of a car so old there's no emergency latch.
Some people will whine about anything, won't they? That opening sentence stole my heart, in part because I know that if I had been writing this story I would have gone for the cliche: I was trapped in the trunk of a car, on my way to certain death, or the like.
Instead our hero is griping about the lack of modern conveniences. That's just lovely.
Marcus is, as he admits, a screw-up. In and out of jail. Now a bad guy gives him a simple job: pick up this 1969 Ford Fairlane and drive it to a specific spot. Collect five grand out of the glove compartment and walk away clean. Easy peasy, no?
Except that on the drive over Marcus hears strange noises from the trunk, like someone trying to get out...
I love stories about a guy who is ashamed of himself for what he sees as weakness, namely having done the right thing.
By the way, the publisher sent me this magazine for free.
