The driver moved away from her with his back to the entrance of the truck, so that she couldn’t pass him. “Not so tough, huh?” he said. “I tell you, baby, I’ve gotta way with dames.”
Gerda got slowly to her feet. Her body ached from her fall. She poised herself, and then with all her strength she swung over a punch aimed at the driver’s jaw.
The driver had been expecting it and shifted his head a trifle. Gerda’s fist scraped his ear and he countered with a heavy slap across her face with his open hand. The blow stunned her and she fell on her knees, suddenly frightened. She knew that this guy was too strong and smart for her.
The driver knelt down beside her and smacked her face several times. The pain made tears run down her face and she tried to protect herself with upraised arms. All he did was to poke her with his forefinger very hard in her belly which brought her hands down quickly, and then he went on slapping her.
“Had enough?” he asked after a while.
Gerda was too dazed to speak. She lay limply waiting, shudderingly, for him to take her. She felt his hands on her clothes, but she hadn’t the strength to resist him. A red haze hung before her eyes and her face and head seemed to be on fire.
She was suddenly conscious that something awful for her had happened. She heard the driver suck in his breath sharply and she heard him mutter, “For Pete’s sake,” and she realized with a dreadful sinking feeling that he had found the roll of money.
She struggled up and tried to snatch it from him, but he was too quick for her. He shoved her away roughly and stood up.
“Where did you get this?” he shouted, holding the roll in a trembling hand.
“Give it to me—it’s mine.”