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call it Stoned-henge), and before that Jerusalem. He could never fathom their single-minded devotion in the search of Utopia. 
    He heard a vehicle approaching, but the bend in the road obscured his view. He stuck his thumb out without even looking up. The act now robotic, he was surprised when the vehicle, a battered lorry cab, stopped thirty feet ahead.
    After being caught out before when the driver sped off laughing as he ran to get in, Zen sauntered up to the lorry feigning nonchalance. When he reached the vehicle, he noticed a sticker on the bumper: I stop for no one . The window descended and the driver, a pretty girl about Zen’s age, leaned out.
    “How far you going?” she asked, pouting her lips.
    “As far as I can get.”
    The girl nodded, tresses of long, strawberry blonde hair falling over her face. “Get in.”
    Zen grinned, clambered into the lorry and slammed the door.
    The girl smiled at him and floored the accelerator, a plume of diesel smoke gushing from the tailpipe behind the cab.
    Zen couldn't help noticing how attractive the girl was. Her blue eyes watched the road ahead, giving him the opportunity to study her body. She wore an almost see-through, tight white top that hugged her ample breasts, through which he could see her dark nipples, one of which appeared pierced, bringing a warm glow to his groin. Piercings also lined her ears like curtain rings. He thought he could also see the dark stamp of a tattoo over one of her breasts, and he felt he might have met a kindred spirit.
    As she steered the vehicle, the muscles in her forearms flexed.
    Outside the cab, the countryside whizzed past in a blur. Zen preferred it that way.
    “So where you heading?” he asked, putting his hands behind his head and stretching his legs out.
    “Same place as you, Zen, same place as you.”
    It took him a couple of seconds to realise she knew his name, a name he hadn't told her. He turned to look at her, and she looked back at him and grinned as she floored the accelerator.
    I stop for no one .

CHAPTER 8
     
    “Stop the bloody truck,” Zen spat. His heart felt like a punch bag as he shuffled away from the woman at the wheel.
    “Why, would you prefer to walk?” She looked at him and smiled seductively.
    “How the hell do you know my name?” His stomach twisted in knots.
    “They told me.”
    “They?”
    “You know, them .” She smiled, all sugar and spice and all things nice.
    Zen shivered. Hellish images filled his head.
    The woman leaned forward and pressed play on the CD player in the dashboard. It looked incongruous compared to the battered condition of the lorry. Seconds later the guttural, dark and angry music of Slipknot reverberated around the cab.
    “How did you find me?”
    “I was told where to look.”
    How did they know? How did they fucking know ? “So what did they send you for?”
    “To make sure you don’t stray from the path.”
    Zen took a deep breath to try to calm his nerves. It didn’t work. “So what’s your name?” An indefinable aura emanated from her; made her seem both beautiful and yet deadly, like a thunderhead.
    The girl crunched down through the lorry's gears as they approached a bend in the road. “You can call me Jade.” After navigating the bend, she went back up through the gears. The lorry's engine roared like a monster.
    He’d accepted a bet whose odds now seemed impossible: Murder. He would go down for life if he killed someone. Talk about a no win situation. Sure, he would be rich, but it would be no help behind bars. Secretly, he still held onto the hope that he’d imagined it all, but now that hope faded, crushed beneath the rumbling wheels of a truck hastening him to his fate.
    “I can't kill anyone. I'm not a bloody killer.”
    Jade shrugged. “Then you'd better be a fast runner.”
    Zen puffed his cheeks out.
    You lose ... you die.
    Passing through the town of Ashbourne, Zen felt apprehensive. With each mile they travelled, the closer they got. And