"It's so cold here. You should come down to Florida with me. I have enough
room in the cab for you," the trucker said. He wore the same uniform as most
of the truckers I saw: dirty jeans, baseball cap, and flannel shirt—with a
potbelly to make it all the more appetizing. Small eyes crinkled into what
he probably thought was a friendly, encouraging look.
I shuddered inwardly and lied through my teeth. "That's really kind of you,
but I'm working to support my family. I can't go anywhere." On the job, I
couldn't tell him to fuck off the way I wanted to.
"You look too young to have a family."
Actually I wasn't, by actual age or visible age. I knew more than a few teen
mothers, some married, most not. At 22, childless and unmarried, I was ahead
of the game.
Why did so many men in their forties think a girl who looked almost thirty
years younger than them would jump at the chance to leave with a greasy
stranger, be raped, and be dumped in the woods once she'd been used up?
"I do, and my husband would really miss me."
Rose and Annie, the two waitresses on shift, watched carefully. If
necessary, one of them would call the cook to come out. We'd never needed
Jack to threaten a customer with a knife, but we didn't believe in taking
chances, especially not this late at night.
It had taken five minutes, but I'd finally convinced him. "That's a shame."
He turned away in a huff.
"Have a good trip," I said, smiling. I kept the false face until he walked
out to the parking lot.
I took this job to get money to live on while I was interviewing in New York
City. If I saved enough, I could get my ass out of Nowheresville,
Pennsylvania before I got a job in New York. I hadn't gone through four
years of college to stay at a backwater restaurant making $4.45 an hour.
That was eight months ago.
I had to get out of this place. I constantly thought that, but this week was
shaping up to be one of the all-time worst.
I looked out the window at my car sitting undisturbed in the lot. Monday,
someone had bought one of our bottles of homemade garlic oil and used it to
vandalize my car, spraying everything. The bastard had even spritzed under
the door handles to make sure I got a lovely surprise. Using the windshield
wipers had only smeared the gunk, so, almost blind, I had been lucky to get
home alive.
I had to wash my car at 4 a.m. in the dark. Have you ever tried to wash
anything outside when the temperature is 11 degrees? I wouldn't suggest it.
When that frantic cleaning still left sticky gunk, I had to use a cleaning
agent so strong it took the car's nameplate right off. Two days later, a
thick layer of dirt, ash, and rock salt residue had already coated the car
in dull white-brown again, but I appreciated anything that made my baby
indistinguishable from the others. I still didn't know if this had been a
random prank or personal vendetta, so I kept watch.
Yesterday, I made the 20-minute drive in to work only to have the boss'
bitch wife tell me that she had cut my hours by a third. I wouldn't be
working Tuesdays anymore. She didn't feel she owed me a reason why. I had to
drive right back home.
Today hadn't been quite so dire, but I had to deal with two amorous truck
drivers, counting the one I'd just sent off, and three people trying to pass
off Canadian coins on me. The perils of working in a restaurant right off
the highway. All of them had been belligerent when I refused to just roll
over.
Being right near the highway meant I constantly dealt with people on the
move, heading out over often long distances for business or pleasure, while
I stayed here. I needed a change.
I checked my watch. The local bars would close in ten minutes, and the
drunks would come to us. People going nowhere made up the rest of our
customer base.
I couldn't wait. But I would be leaving for home an hour after that. I could
deal with seating, bussing tables for, and ringing up the tabs for
boisterous drunks until 3 a.m.
Two men walked in the door and waited for someone to seat them. Both of them
were tall and handsome, but from their rumpled appearance and the way they
looked at one another, they were obviously together. It made me even gladder
that the dim truck driver had already left, because he might have tried to
make trouble with them, and the one in leather would have ripped him apart.
The way he moved and the way his eyes scanned the room, as if marking where
everyone was, suggested someone dangerous.
He looked a bit underdressed for the cold in his black jeans, leather
jacket, leather gloves, and a scarf as green as his eyes, but the
temperature didn't seem to bother him. It didn't seem to bother his friend
either, who wore a trench coat, scarf, and gloves over what might have been
a suit. Although both were scrumptious, their clothes and demeanors made
them look mismatched... well, aside from their rumpled hair, shining eyes,
and swollen lips.
They reeked of sex. We didn't have a motel for miles around, and they didn't
strike me as locals, so I could only guess that they'd done it in their car.
It sounder colder and more uncomfortable than I would prefer, but if it
floated their boat, who cared? It wasn't my job to judge people, just seat
them.
I brought two menus and said, "Hi, I'm Samantha, and I'll be your hostess
tonight. Please follow me to your table."
"Samantha?" the man in the trench coat asked. His hazel eyes scrutinized me
down to my atomic structure. It made me uncomfortable.
His friend shook his shoulder. "Mulder, give it up. If you weren't so tired,
you'd know better. What are the odds of finding your sister in some out of
the way Italian restaurant? Besides, this girl is much too young."
Mulder shook his head, and I realized that he did look a bit dazed and worn
out. "You're right. Sorry, Alex. It's just the name combined with her looks:
the brown hair, green eyes, pale skin... She threw me off."
If you ever wanted to know what it's like to be furniture, get a job in food
service. "Follow me, please."
When I led them to a table in Annie's section and put the menus down, Alex
said, "No, I want to sit out in the sun room."
Great. I didn't need this. Even if I was allowed to seat them in there, they
would soon be complaining about the temperature anyway. "The sun room is
closed for the night. It's freezing in there, and the only view you would
get right now would be the lights of the Exxon station next door. It's much
warmer and friendlier in here."
"Alex..." Mulder said softly.
"I stopped here for the sun room, and I want it." He took full advantage of
his height to loom over me. Intimidating, right?
Maybe some other night. "We already mopped and cleaned that room up, just
like we do every night. It won't be reopening until 7 a.m. None of the
waitresses are taking it right now. You would be much more comfortable in
here." I felt Annie and Rose's eyes on me again. I hoped I wouldn't need
them.
"What happened to 'the customer is always right'?" The bastard was grinning
at me!
I abandoned my "friendly hostess" voice for something lower and darker. "I
could seat you in there, but the lights would stay off, none of the
waitresses would come to take your order, and our cook would come in with a
knife the moment I heard any strange noises."
His smile deepened. "You're cute. We'll sit in here, like you want us to."
"That's fine. Annie will take your orders when you're ready."
I walked back to the register fuming. Cute! Then the bar crowd started to
come in, and I put the bastard from my mind. They crowded the room and
kicked the volume level up more than a few notches.
As I cleared tables, I noticed an encouraging number of plates. Some of the
bar people came in and nursed a cup of coffee for hours. I wiped the tables
and put the tips back for the waitresses. I hoped Rose and Annie made decent
tip money tonight. Drunks could be stunningly generous but also disgustingly
miserly.
Two men stopped at Mulder and Alex's table to talk. They blocked my path.
"Excuse me, please. I have to get through," I said. They gave me cold looks
before moving aside.
Then one of the strangers grabbed a woman and put a gun to her head. She was
too drunk to understand what was going on, so she didn't even struggle. "I
suggest you tell us what you know, Agent Mulder. Do you want innocents to
suffer?" he asked. His friend suddenly had a gun too.
"That's not necessary," Mulder said in a low monotone, the very sound of
calm reason. "I'll give you what you want. Just let her go."
"I don't think so. I like her, and I think she'll keep you honest."
Shit. I didn't know what Mulder was, but the hostage kept him from doing
anything. Alex looked ticked off, then his hand moved. The hostage taker's
partner fell to the floor with a steak knife in his eye. While everyone else
looked stunned, the other man included, something inside me went cold and
snapped. I hadn't felt like quite this since I had to fight my way out from
under a trampling crowd at a concert three years ago.
I slammed the man's gun hand aside with the dirty dish bin, knocking his
weapon away. Mulder managed to grab the woman before I slammed her attacker
down and smashed his head against the floor. I didn't stop until he stopped
fighting me, too unconscious to struggle.
When I came back to myself, I had the attention of almost everyone in the
room. Alex knelt on the other side of the man, checking his pulse, while
Mulder tried to calm everyone. I could have used some calming myself.
Alex grinned. "Good job, but I think you smashed all your plates."
He was right. I'd even managed to crack some of the plastic cups.
I sat back on the floor and put my face in my hands. They came away with
blood and some sort of fluid on them. I grabbed a napkin and wiped furiously
at my face.
Mulder was giving some sort of speech about being part of the FBI. He would
take control of everything from here. He started dragging the one I'd
knocked unconscious out of the restaurant, while Alex took the dead one.
Before Alex left, he asked, "You don't need the knife back, right?"
Ew! "No," I mumbled. "You can keep it."
"Thanks. This should cover our bill." He threw some cash on a nearby table.
"Good night, everyone."
Stunned as I was, even I could see that they were messing with a crime
scene. Terribly illegal. Would I call them on it? Hell, no. I just hoped
they would drive away as fast as they could.
Nick would understand. Despite all his friends with the local state police,
I got the impression that my boss knew when it would be better not to let
the cops get involved.
"Sam!" Rose said. I saw fear in her eyes. I would swear that she looked
scared of me.
"What?"
"It's 2:58. If I were you, I'd go home."
I fought down a hysterical cackle. Could I spare the two minutes? "Sure." I
rang Alex and Mulder's bill through the register, got my coat, and punched
out.
I closed my trench coat, put my gloves on, and wrapped my scarf around my
head and neck before stepping out into the frigid night. Mountain winters
had their own bitter flavor. I felt the sharp air sucking all the moisture
right out of my throat even as it sliced at the exposed skin on my face. My
nose, hands, and feet already felt like blocks of ice.
I heard a loud grunt of pain, and Alex's voice saying, "Tell us what we want
to know."
"Alex, this isn't necessary," Mulder said. "We should—"
"What? Give him to the police? Depending on how much the Syndicate values
him, they'll either get all his charges dropped or suicide him. Probably
suicide. So, it pays for you to tell us what you know, and then run for your
life."
They were interrogating the man. Interrogating him against my car! I was
stuck; I couldn't get my ass out of there like I so dearly wanted, but I
also couldn't go back inside and face the stares again. Tonight may well
have forced me to finally quit. I ducked back to hunch against the side of
the building, hoping they wouldn't see me.
"I don't think he knows anything."
"I think you're right, Mulder," Alex said.
I saw the man run past me before I heard a sharp crack! and watched him fall
on his face. He didn't move again.
Prior to tonight, I'd never seen a person die. Now I just watched my second
murder of the night. If I ever got through my shock, I would be sick.
"Alex!"
"You saw him threaten that woman! He's a killer, Mulder. If I didn't take
him down now, he would kill again, and someone else would have to stop him."
"You shot him in cold blood, with his back turned to you. If he's a killer,
what does that make you?"
"The person who protects you from your mistakes. C'mere."
"No, Alex..."
Everything went quiet, so I snuck a look. They were kissing, wrapped around
and completely lost in one another. The snow that started to fall gleamed
under the orange lights as it slowly wound it way down through the
gray-black sky. A few flakes settled in their dark hair like soft, pale
feathers. Romantic, if you left out the thought that I'd watched one of them
kill two men tonight.
I started to back toward the door. Maybe I could wait in the foyer until
they were done doing whatever they intended to do near my car.
Why the hell did they have to stop at my car? What did it ever do to anyone?
"Samantha!" Alex shouted. I stopped dead. Oh, bad choice of words. "Come
over here."
I let out a deep breath that burned. If I didn't obey, would Mulder let Alex
hunt me down? Why take chances? I walked over.
As I stopped in front of them and looked up, I saw some hope after all. Alex
had tried to dissuade Mulder from thinking of me as his sister, but I still
must have had enough of a resemblance to inspire the almost tender look I
saw in burnt-out green eyes. Insomniac eyes, like mine. Eyes that, also like
mine, changed color depending on mood and environment. I didn't think he
could stand by and watch Alex hurt or kill me.
"You seem to have a gift for being in the wrong place at the wrong time,"
Alex said.
"And you two decided to conclude your business standing against my car," I
answered.
"Usually, I'd say that made you unlucky, except that the men who came in
after us slashed the tires of every car in the lot except the ones here, in
the employee parking section."
Subliminally, I'd noticed something wrong with the other cars when I walked
out. "The fuckers," I snarled. Up here, if you didn't have a car, you didn't
get anywhere; everything's just too far away. In an effort to stop these
two, those bastards had managed to strand almost everyone in the restaurant.
"So we need a ride."
Wait a minute! "You're not taking my car. How the hell would I get home?"
"Maybe you could drive us? We're going to Westfall," Mulder said and gave me
an entreating look. "Please? I'll take care of your gas money." At least he
had some sense of courtesy.
Gah, Westfall. Another 20 minutes down the highway from my exit, then I
would have to drive back. But what would happen if I refused? Mulder might
force Alex to let me go, but they would no doubt take one of the other
employees' cars.
I hoped God was paying attention on this one. This was truly above and
beyond. If You're listening, could You actually get one of my resumes looked
at, so I'd have a shot at a job in New York City that paid a real wage? I
would appreciate it. Thanks.
"I'll drive you. I have to warn you though, there's not much room in the
back." My beloved eight-year-old, two-door Mercury Topaz with its 110,000
miles was a workhorse, loyal and true, but it was small.
"Hold on a moment. I'll be right back," Alex said. He left us standing there
for ten minutes before coming back with a small smile on his face. I
wondered if he'd used the time to stow the bodies somewhere, then wondered
when I had reached a point where I could think that without wanting to run
screaming for my life. I guess shock was a wonderful thing after all.
To my total lack of surprise, Alex and Mulder both climbed into the back. I
turned on the car and the defrosters, then went back out to scrape ice off
the windows. Alex looked impatient when I got back into the car, but I
ignored him as I put it into reverse and pulled out. Since the inside was
almost as cold as the outside, with our breath steaming in front of us, I
turned on the heat.
"Alex, there's an afghan back here," Mulder said.
"It's in case my car fails, and I get stuck in the middle of nowhere. I
wouldn't want to freeze," I said.
"Is it likely to fail?" Alex asked.
"Life is full of surprises. You put 8 years and over 100,000 miles together,
and see what odds you get."
"It has tassels on it."
"And?"
Alex laughed as he wrapped it around himself and Mulder. As I drove, I
glanced back occasionally in the rear view mirror. Alex looked almost tender
with the side of his head leaning atop Mulder's as they huddled. Mulder
looked almost asleep.
I wondered how a federal agent and a killer got involved with one another.
Some rugged individualist types who lived in small bunkers in this area
maintained that there wasn't much difference between the two, but Mulder
didn't strike me as being casually deadly. Unlike Alex.
The snow started to fall harder, making it look like I was driving through
an exploding dandelion puff. It crunched under the tires and made the wheels
slide a little.
Alex and Mulder started to kiss hungrily again, and I had to force my eyes
back to the road. I couldn't tune out the sounds of harsher breathing, small
moans, rustling cloth, and creaking leather. I had the horrified thought
that I would have a replay of the time I agreed to take a group of my
brother's friends somewhere. They offered me $20 if I would take them home,
and the group consensus overruled me when I objected to one couple sharing
the bucket passenger seat with no seatbelt. The couple had sex on the drive
home right next to me, then stiffed me on the money too.
If Alex and Mulder were going to have sex near me, where I could hear it, I
should at least have been able to watch. They owed me that.
Then I noticed something that put passenger rudeness right out of my mind.
"Alex? Mulder?"
"Uhn, what?" Alex sounded pissed.
"A car has been following us since we picked up the highway. Every time I
change speeds, it changes speeds with me. It might be nothing, but—"
"Shit. Speed up."
"We're near a cop trap. I don't want a ticket."
"Just for a little while. See what the car does. If it's after us, a ticket
is the least of your worries."
I pressed the accelerator, making my engine grumble louder. The car behind
me also sped up. "I think they're tailing us."
"Shit!"
Then the car came up along side us, and the passenger window started to
open. No one had a good reason to roll their window down that far in this
temperature. My heart pounding in my throat, I sped up, then yanked the
wheel to the right to put me on the exit ramp at the last possible second.
The other car continued along on the highway for a little while before the
driver figured out what had happened and hit the brakes. I heard their
screeching as I almost lost control of my own car turning onto Route 402. I
thundered down the road at 60 miles an hour.
Mulder's hands clung white-knuckled to the top of the passenger seat, while
Alex asked right into my ear, "Where did you learn to drive?" I thought I
heard a note of respect in there, although the warm breath distracted the
hell out of me.
Once we passed a wicked curve, I slowed down, then drove into the State
Police barracks lot and parked near the back. Mulder asked, "What are we
doing?"
"She's going to ground. Our tail will expect us to keep driving, not stop
and camouflage ourselves," Alex said. I saw a wild, gleeful look in his eyes
when I glanced in the mirror. "What will you do if the cops come out?"
"I do the 'poor, young innocent' routine, talking about how I got tired and
scared all alone in the big dark and needed to stop in a safe, well-lit
area. If you two ducked down, it would work." I started to get out. "Now I
want to see if I can figure out if the chasers got my license plate number.
The statie cars will shield me from the view of the road."
When I looked at the plate, I felt a huge relief. The dirt, ashes, and rock
salt had so grimed it that I couldn't even read it. Hell, I doubt they
would be able to tell what color my car really was. Thank you, winter
mountain roads. With all identifying insignia long fallen off, the make and
model would be hard to discern too.
By sheer accident, I owned a fine getaway car.
I wrapped my white scarf around my head again and peeked over the edge of
the nearest police car to see the road. Even if anyone could see me from the
road, my scarf camouflaged the visible parts of me. At 3:45 a.m. on a
Thursday morning, any traffic would be heading toward the highway, not away
from it. It made my job easier.
After a while I heard the soft crunch of snow behind me and turned to see
Mulder coming over, staying low. "See anything?" he asked softly. I'd
expected him and Alex to take advantage of the time alone together, but it
seemed that Mulder had some sense of duty.
"No. How long has it been?"
"Twenty minutes."
"We may have lost them, then."
"I'm sorry we got you into this."
"It's okay. These things happen. Usually to me. I've had an interesting time
tonight."
Mulder smiled. I couldn't help liking the effect it had on his looks.
"Interesting." Wry, his voice went lower.
"I used to play war games as a kid, sort of extreme versions of Chase and
Hide 'n' Seek. In a pack of ten, I was the only girl. It helped me develop
strategies." I was babbling, trying to ignore my nervousness as well as my
attraction to him. Somehow, I didn't think Alex would share. Snow kept
falling, slowly layering on every surface. "Maybe we should get going. It'll
get harder and harder to drive in this. I know a back way to get where we're
going. It's boring as all hell, especially at night, but it'll take you
there. Do you think anyone will be waiting for you in Westfall?"
His eyes darkened from emerald and gold to pine and rust. "I don't know."
We low-walked back to the car and scrambled in. Alex let Mulder back in
under the afghan, muttering, "Fuck, you're freezing" Then he asked me,
"We're hitting the road again?"
"Yup. With luck, if any of them are watching this end of 402, they'll think
the car belongs to a statie heading home."
As I got back on the road, I heard Mulder whispering to Alex about the
possibility of more people waiting for them in Westfall. Alex actually
growled under his breath. Thoughts of bloody mayhem no doubt danced in his
head.
Me, I just drove and tried to stay awake. Sometimes the snow came down so
thickly I could barely see the road from the glare of the headlights off the
flakes. I drove about 10 miles below the speed limit with my hands clenched
on the wheel to control our sliding. It sounded like we were driving on
styrofoam. The heat was putting me to sleep, so I cracked the window open
for fresh, cold air.
No one followed us. In this snow, I'd see their lights shining a ways before
they reached us.
Once in a while I could afford to direct a glance back at my passengers.
Mulder was out cold, deeply asleep and wrapped in Alex and my purple afghan.
Alex dozed a bit, though every jerk woke him up. While awake, he
occasionally rubbed the side of his face against Mulder's hair with a look
in his eyes that suggested lust and concern intermingled. That look
suggested to me that, if he had his way, they would be screwing like crazed
weasels every second they were together, but the concern made him let the
agent sleep.
I flipped through the radio stations desperate for some decent music. With
the mountains in the way, not too many signals came through, and most of
those were country or oldies. After much fiddling, I would find one passable
song, then have to change the station when something execrable followed it.
I would bring my car Discman and CDs to work, but I didn't think they'd be
safe in the car or even behind the counter with me.
The back routes eventually brought us to Milford. I kept an iron grip on the
wheel, especially on the hills. The giant downhill going into town gave me a
few tense moments even at ten miles an hour with my foot near the brake, but
we made it without going off a cliff. Yay, us. I actually thought I heard
Alex mutter, "You're lucky you're sleeping through this," to Mulder.
"Where is he staying?" I asked Alex.
"At a small motel across from a drive-in theater."
"Cool. I know where that is."
At 5:30 a.m. I pulled into the parking lot at last and didn't see anyone
waiting for us. Alex said, "Time to go." When that didn't work, he blew in
Mulder's ear. No joy. He progressed to shaking the agent, which got us a
sleepy whined, "No, don' wanna go..."
"Can you carry him?" I asked. Alex laughed.
That woke Mulder up. He blearily rubbed the sleep from his eyes and looked
at Alex. "What?"
"We're at your motel."
Mulder directed an intense look at him and asked, "Come in with me?" ever so
softly.
I had to look away from the pain on Alex's face. "I can't. I have to go."
Mulder sighed and ran his hand through his hair. "I... expected that. Could
you at least tell me what you were doing here? No, right?"
Alex kissed him long and deeply, twining leather-clad fingers through his
hair. They finally broke apart, both breathing hard. "I'd walk you to the
door, but I think Scully would shoot me if the noise woke her up," Alex
said, breathless.
Mulder laughed. As I opened the door for him to climb out of the car, Alex
said, "Watch your step. I don't want you to fall and break something after I
got you this far. Have your gun ready in case you have company."
"Yes, Mother." Mulder rummaged through his pockets and handed me a small wad
of bills. It turned out to be $50. "Gas money, like I promised. I'm sorry
you got mixed up in this... Samantha."
"It's okay. I only would have gone home and slept otherwise." I smiled.
"Good night, Mulder."
"You're a good kid." When he saw me wince, he grinned and said, "Sorry."
Alex and I sat in silence, watching Mulder, gun in hand, carefully make his
way through ankle-deep snow to his door. Neither of us relaxed until he'd
gone inside with no noise of gunfire following. Then we waited five more
minutes.
Finally, Alex said, "He seems to be as safe as he ever gets."
I yawned widely. "So, where do I take you?"
Alex got out, then settled himself in the passenger seat. "Port Jervis."
I abruptly realized that I was now alone in the car with a cold- blooded
killer. Shit, I'd let myself get too comfortable with him. I slowed my heart
by sheer force of will. Predators could smell fear. Hopefully, I showed none
of this as I started the car again and drove.
"That was some driving back there. Smart," he said suddenly.
"Thanks."
"What made you attack that gunman at the restaurant anyway?"
"I was sick of being shoved around, I took Tae Kwon Do a while back,
something snapped, take your pick." I could feel him staring at me,
scrutinizing me. When I turned to him, I saw a look of pure speculation on
his face that suddenly turned to sadness. "What?"
He shook his head. "Nothing. Don't worry about it."
His silence was almost companionable as we drove over the border into New
York and through Port Jervis for a while before stopping in front of a small
house on a deserted side street. He got out, smiled, and said, "Wait here.
It'll be worth your while."
I had no idea what he meant to do and considered taking off as if I had the
devil on my tail, but he came back out of the house with a box before I made
a decision. He handed it to me. "For you. I think you should check in to the
Best Western we passed. The roads are too dangerous now." Even he looked
surprised by the words coming out.
"I don't have any mon—"
He took the lid off the box, revealing stacks of fifties and twenties. "Now
you do. Don't look at me like that; it's not mine anyway."
"Uh—"
"Don't say a damned thing. If I hear any thanks, I'll shoot you. You never
saw me, and you don't know me. Now get your ass out of here, and you know
exactly what I mean." He slammed the door and walked away, soon disappearing
behind a curtain of snow.
I put my foot to the accelerator before he changed his mind. About the money
or letting me live.
Once I made it back over the state line, I stopped at a parking lot and
turned on the interior light. All the bills I checked against the light had
the ID strip in them. They weren't counterfeit. Non- sequential numbering on
them too.
I had $3,000 in cash sitting in a cardboard box in my car. Stolen? No doubt.
I just had to be careful...
I started to laugh. I had been a good little girl, playing by other people's
rules and keeping my head down. It got me bullshit and a rotten job in the
middle of nowhere. But one night of taking risks, having the shit scared out
of me, and getting my life threatened a few times had netted me the biggest
break of my life. It wasn't all that bad, really; I could even deal with
that guy getting a steak knife through the eye.
The hell with the rules. The world could kiss my ass.
From now on, I would be behind the wheel.
THE END
Behind the Wheel
by Viridian5
"Sweet little girl,
I prefer
You behind the wheel
And me the passenger.
Drive..."
—"Behind the Wheel" by Depeche Mode
