tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-87123692011-08-31T07:23:35.769-07:00Wildceltnoreply@blogger.comBlogger11100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8712369.post-1097719930679773102004-10-13T19:11:00.000-07:002004-10-13T19:16:35.426-07:00As the dawn light swelled over the dry red cliffs and beamed into her face, it seemed to hit her eyes like a laser. Groaning, squinting, and pulling her sleeping bag over her head, Tracey scooted further inside her cocoon-like bag. The sun warmed the air immediately as the humidity was near zero in the Nevada desert. It would soon be 80 degrees and by late morning, close to triple digits. She was huddled close to the car she had stolen and driven out of Los Vegas last night and parked out here in the middle of nowhere, she hoped. Tracey's head was pounding, her tongue was sandpaper, she had to pee and more importantly, she had to get up and start driving. How the hell did I get into this predicament, she asked herself. <br /><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8712369-109771993067977310?l=saga2.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Wildceltnoreply@blogger.com7