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The Digit Collector

The Digit Collector



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Published by: Aaron Martinez & Taylor Kingsbury on Dec 23, 2006
Copyright:Attribution Non-commercial


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For Dad
 Jerry Doyle wiped the sweat from his brow and sighed, silently cursing theoverpowering Nevada heat. He glancedat the clock on his cassette player, whichread 9:24 p.m. in green digital numbers.“Jesus Christ,” Jerry muttered to him-self. “Almost 9:30 at night and it’s stillover a hundred degrees outside.”The radio was off, and Jerry drove insilence down Interstate 15, lost in thesound of his tires scraping along thehighway. He reached into the breastpocket of his blue collared shirt andpulled a cigarette from the open soft packinside. He put the grit to his lips, thenthought against it.“It’s too fucking hot to smoke,” hesaid, barely noticing he was thinking outloud. He set the unlit cigarette on theempty passenger seat and wiped his brow again. As he stared at the dark,empty road ahead of him, he was taken by the seclusion of this place. There wasno landscape around him, at least noth-ing that he could see through the thick

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