Joseph Summers waited for a long time, but no cars came by. He had no choice but to go home and think of a plan.
After all, it was the dead of night. It would be a miracle if any cars passed by, especially in such a remote place.
As he passed Tristan Grayson's car, he stopped and took a couple of steps back. When he saw the man sleeping inside with his legs propped up on the steering wheel, he grew excited and rapped on the car body twice. "Hey, young man, wake up!"
The pounding set off the car alarm. Tristan Grayson jolted awake, and seeing someone standing outside his window, he was instantly filled with irritation.
"What is it?" he asked coldly, reining in his temper.
"Young man, my grandson has a high fever. Could I trouble you to take us to the hospital?"
"And what's your grandson's fever got to do with me?" Tristan Grayson sneered, rolling up the window in annoyance.
