Step. Step. Sarah forced herself to keep walking. She’d been at this for a good three hours, but it didn’t seem like she’d made much progress—the mile markers on the side of the highway said she’d gone a mere nine miles. She couldn’t feel her feet, and she didn’t think she ever would again, but she had to keep going.

The scene grew darker as the desert sun started to sink behind the mountains. Sarah laughed bitterly at her own foolishness—no cell phone, no money to get plane tickets in the first place, not even the capacity to get a car that would work better than that Honda, she thought.

Sarah recognized that she was starting to lose control of her emotions, but try as she might she couldn’t hold in her tears. She managed to keep her composure enough that she could keep moving, but it was a close thing. She glanced at the highway sign passing above her head—St. George, twenty-eight miles.

Sarah barely managed not to swear as – step, step – she she pressed on into the coming night.