A dim outline of a man leant down from the cab and peered at her.
“Fort Pierce?” she asked, trying to see what he looked like. “Can you give me a lift?”
He pushed open the off door of the cab. “Sure,” he said, “come on up.”
She climbed in beside him and he started the cab rolling. He was very big and the shadowy outline of his face gave him the appearance of an ape. He, too, was regarding her under the broken peak of his cap.
“Where you come from, baby?” he asked in a hoarse, snuffling voice.
“Daytona Beach,” Gerda returned, rubbing her arms and shivering. “Got caught in the hurricane, sheltered for some time and then decided to walk on.”
“Huh,” the man said, spitting out of the cab. “Saw a house on fire way back. I guess it must have been the lightning.”
Gerda didn’t say anything. She was feeling tired and would have liked to have gone to sleep.
“Ain’t you scared being around in a spot like this on your own?” he asked her.
Gerda stiffened. “I don’t scare easily,” she said coldly. “The last guy who tried to get fresh with me is still wondering what hit him.”