Lost

“We’re going to die.” Calvin stared at the aging Jeep’s rising temperature gauge as they snaked through the barren wasteland.

“Quit being so dramatic.” Charmaine shook her head. “Have faith! Google says we’re going the right way.”

“In a quarter of a mile turn left,” the tinny voice interrupted.

“Turn left! What left?” Calvin thumped the steering wheel and scowled at the half-empty bottle. The last of their water.

“I don’t know!” Charmaine stabbed at her phone.

“You have arrived,” the voice declared in triumph.

Calvin awoke with a jerk, his bedsheets a tangled mess.

“Damn, this Google job is stressing me out.”