Philip J. Simmons

Darkened Alleys

By Philip J. Simmons

Nine o’clock sharp. Come alone, at the church.
Don’t forget the forgery.
-Antonio
The bumpy road grated beneath my tires as I pulled off the interstate. The cold of the AC raised goosebumps along my bare arms and penetrated my leather gloves. My car, a modified Model-S Tesla with hidden compartments