THE HITCHHIKER
By Joseph Washburn
I sat it in the passenger seat of the pickup, the August heat already making the outside unbearable. Slowly, I slid my hand under my coat, touching the cold steel of my pistol. The plan was in motion, and I have done this many times. Looking over at Steve the man who would die soon as he shifted the truck into gear. I stared at him like I did every mark etching their faces into my brain. His short brown hair, his rough skin and that 1980 style mustache, it’s the least I can do to remember the people I kill.
The plan is simple, find a big enough truck, hitch a ride, and kill the driver leaving no evidence I was ever here. I wrapped my hand around the grip taking in the rough cool texture.
When Steve looked over at me and said, “Hey man I forgot to mention it when I picked you up, but I need to make a quick stop at the next exit. My sister has a farm and I need to drop something off.”
I nodded as I eased my hand off the pistol. “Hey, not a problem I’m just happy you picked me up. It was way too hot to be walking.” I replied.
I leaned my head against the window trying to look bored as I thought, “Ok his sister is expecting him I must wait until after he’s done. I’ll stay in the truck, so she doesn’t see me with him.”
I watched as we turned off the interstate, after several twists and turns I had no clue where I was and decided just to lean my head back and close my eyes.
I was jerked awake by my head slamming into the dash.
“Ouch!”
“Sorry man. I didn’t even see that rock in the road.”
The coppery taste of blood filled my mouth as I grabbed my nose. “I think my nose is broke!”
The truck came to a stop as Steve said. “I am sorry again I think I have napkins behind your seat give me a minute and I’ll grab them.”
Holding my head back trying to keep the torrent of blood from flowing everywhere I stiffened as I felt Steve reaching behind me rummaging around.
“Just one more moment I almost got it.” He said.
I closed my eyes thinking how this could get any worse. When I felt something cold slide across my neck. Steve breathed onto my face now only inches from me his stinking rotten breath snaking its way through my broken nose.
“I usually have to hunt from my next meal but you my little gazelle, walked right up to me.” Steve chuckled as something wet and sticky flowed down my neck.
I tried to speak but there was too much blood in my mouth. “Was my nose bleeding that much?” I thought. Pain blossomed on my neck as my mind drifted. I opened my eyes one last time to see his rotten teeth smiling a huge grin as he said.
“You look Delicious.”
About the Author:
I am 33 from Alabama. I am married with four kids, and after my wife finished with her masters in elementary education I decided to enroll at Full Sail university for creative writing. I am currently working on my BS in Creative writing for entertainment.
