Hitchhiker

Zeke Daniels let the cool breeze from the open window blow through his hair as he drove along the empty Nebraskan highway. He felt completely and utterly alone, in the good way. He fiddled with the radio until he found a clear enough station. Hurt by Johnny Cash played through the old radio piercing the quiet in the old Chevy pickup truck. Zeke had turned thirty last week, but he felt older. His hands were calloused and weathered from a lifetime of work. His father had been dead for a long time, and he hadn’t seen his mother since he had run away at 16 years old. He didn’t often smile, but in times like this when he was alone on the road just him and a good song he struck a grin. Zeke had had a good weekend. He felt in the mood for smiling.

He reminded himself that he needed to clean out the truck bed before he got to the next town. He pulled over on the side of the highway. He grabbed the bottle of bleach and the shovel out of the seat next to him. It was hot outside, the sun beat down making a bead of sweat trickle down his forehead. He went to the back of the truck and surveyed the mess he had made. There was a fair amount of blood caked and splattered around. A bloody machete lay there along with some rope. The body of the hitchhiker he picked up yesterday had been buried, but there was a mess to be cleaned up. He dug a hole about three feet deep to bury the machete and the rope he had used to tie the boy up. He had been approximately 18 and clearly struggling to get away from his parents. He threw a couple gallons of water mixed with a healthy dose of bleach and scrubbed away the blood with a rag. Once the truck bed looked nice and clean he smiled. Today was a day for smiling. He got back in the car and drove on. Towards what, he didn’t know. But he hoped today would be a good day.

About a mile down the road later is when he saw her. She looked to be about 20, and she had her thumb out to try to catch a ride. He thought to himself that his weekend must not be over yet. The universe had blessed him with yet another young clueless hitchhiker. He rolled down the window.

“You looking for a ride sweetheart?” he had a southern accent and he smiled a nearly predatory smile, but the young girl was none the wiser.

“Why yes I am sir,” she smiled sweetly. She got in the car with only a backpack. “My name is Abby,” she also had a prominent southern drawl.

“Well nice to meet you Abby. I’m Zeke.” He was already imagining the ways in which he could kill her. She had long brown curls down to the base of her ribs, and big blue eyes that looked as innocent as a baby. She stood about 5 foot 5 which was tiny in comparison to Zeke being 6 foot 4. She was beautiful, and Zeke couldn’t believe the lord had placed her in his car.

“Where are you headed ma’am?” he asked genuinely curious what a girl like this was doing on the side of the road miles from the nearest town.

“Anywhere but here,” she responded looking ahead out the window. There was a look in her eyes, a haunted look of wild apprehension. Zeke wondered what she was running from. He recognized that look. It was how he looked when he ran away from home at the age of 16. His mother had killed his father when he was ten and she got away with it. She beat him mercilessly until he was old enough to fight back, and then he ran. He hadn’t been back to his hometown since.

“Alright darlin’,” he said putting the car in gear and driving off. Abby pulled out a Capri Sun pouch, and began drinking. The contrast between the two individuals was striking.

“So where are you headed?” She asked eyes wide in curiosity.

“I don’t know where do you want to go?” Zeke felt a desire to understand his victims before they died. The girl wistfully looked down at her bag.

“Somewhere beautiful." she sighed. She looked up for a moment and gazed longingly out the window across the flat countryside. "Somewhere that I can look in all directions and not see another soul.” Well that idea worked out well for Zeke. It meant no witnesses. Nobody saw her get in the car. He could do whatever he wanted. The girl dropped her gaze once again to stare at her bag, her thumb trailing over a spot on the bottom. She looked lost in thought.

While Zeke was focused on the road Abby was transfixed by the spot of blood on her bag. She had cleaned up so well after she killed the man in the minivan, but this spot was still here. A tiny reminder of the fun she had had. She recalled the minivan with its old seats and unsuspecting driver. No one ever suspected her with her big blue eyes and capri sun. Zeke was less talkative than the guys who usually picked her up. She had been born down south and had been hitchhiking for the past month. She couldn’t get enough of the feeling of power that rushed to her head, the ultimate control over another person’s life, and the blood. Her first victim had been her stepfather. She had hit him over the head with a shovel in the yard when he had tried to rape her again. The feeling she had when she did it was entirely unexpected. She felt powerful and for the first time in her 19 years of living she felt in control, and she never wanted to lose that feeling.

Zeke started singing along to the stereo in the car. “Don’t, fear the reaper. Baby take my hand, don’t fear the reaper.” The song lyrics couldn’t have been more fitting. Zeke wasn’t scared of her she thought, and his voice wasn’t half bad. She began to sing with him, looking slyly across the truck. He has no idea what he is in for.

The song couldn’t have been more perfect Zeke thought. He couldn’t resist singing along. He was used to being alone. The empty highway with nothing but corn as far as the eye could see had its charm, but he liked having another person there. Abby’s voice was beautiful, and it gave him a pleasant chill. He would remember her long after he put her in the ground.

The song ended and the smile on Abby’s face disappeared. “Can you pull over? She asked. I need to pee.” Zeke looked at her analyzing the innocence in her face for what he expected to be the last time. There was no one for miles. This was his chance to make his move he thought. The truck grumbled on the gravel by the side of the road. He put his arm up by the window half excited about the hunt and the kill, and half sad that their time together was over so quickly. She walked off into the cornfields still holding her backpack. He hurriedly reached under his seat and pulled out his machete. His pulse quickened. The hunt was almost to a close.

Abby in the cornfields set down a backpack and pulled out a machete of her own. He must still be in the car she thought. She hesitated before pulling the sheath off her knife. She liked Zeke, but he would never understand her. He looked at her and saw an innocent little girl just like all the men did. She shouldered her backpack, her eyes cold with resolve. She held the knife behind her back as she walked out of the cornfields. Zeke was waiting outside of the truck. Something in his eyes were different. They were colder.

“Well that took you long enough,” he said. He smiled but it was the kind of smile that ceased as soon as it left his mouth leaving his eyes staring coldly forward. “There’s no one around for miles,” he said, as his attempt to smile vanished.

“That’s just how I like it,” she said. “We could scream for days and only the birds would hear us.” She stood about three feet from him now. Her heart was pounding in her chest with anticipation.

“Do you fear the reaper, Abby?” Zeke grasped the machete tighter almost ready to strike upon her response. The moments while he waited for her to say something to that question seemed to go on for hours.

“Oh honey.” she smiled a dazzling pitiful smile. “I am the reaper.” They both swung simultaneously. Abby’s face was a contorted mask of determination. Zeke’s had a broad smile on it. Their Knives met in the middle of the air making a splendid clash. Both parties were dumbfounded by the other. Both backed away a couple steps holding their machetes out in front of them.

Zeke was taken aback. His face a mask of confusion. “What the fuck?” he asked? Abby’s face was in awe of what had just happened.

“Wait,” She she started laughing. “You were planning on killing me? Was it this whole time?” she asked completely shocked.

“Well yeah. Wait you were planning to kill me?” Zeke asked with even more shock in his voice. Then he burst out laughing as well. This had never happened to either of them before. They stood there for a moment quite like they were looking in a mirror for the first time. Neither of them truly wanted to kill the other anymore.

“Why don’t we call a truce,” Abby suggested slowly. “You don’t try to kill me, and I won’t try to off you either,” she said still holding the machete in front of her.

“Sounds like a good plan,” Zeke responded. Both lowering their knives slowly to the ground. They circled each other for a moment and sat on the grass facing each other. Eyes alive with both fear and curiosity. Neither knew what to ask first but they had to start somewhere.

“Why?” Abby asked. “Why did you just try and kill me?” She paused. “How many people have you killed?”

Zeke’s fingers were playing in the grass when he responded. “Why does anyone do anything?” he said looking her straight in the eyes. “For the feel of it,” he looked back down. “You were gonna be thirty, ” he murmured. She stared at him in awe.

“I’ve only offed about ten,” she said.

“I never would have guessed. Don’t take this the wrong way, but you look so,” he paused searching for the right word. “Sweet,” his voice trailed off still comprehending the reality.

“I try to. More people will pick up a girl who looks like me than a guy who looks like you, if I’m being blunt.”

“That’s part of how I justify it. If they’re stupid enough to get in a car with a random guy, then what do they expect,” he chuckled softly. “The lord will judge me when that time comes.”

“You can’t really be religious?” Abby asked incredulously.

“Yes ma’am. Born and raised Catholic.” He pulled out a crucifix from under his shirt.

“Well I’ll be darned. I guess looks really can be deceiving,” she joked. “You got that right.” Zeke let out a genuine laugh.

“You never said why you do it,” he asked staring into her eyes. She looked back and for the first time in her life felt truly seen.

“There ain’t nothin like it,” she whispered. “That feeling of power. You ought to know what I’m talking about.” She knew he did. They stood up and stared at each other for a moment.

“So what now?” She asked. He looked at her, and she was hiding a switchblade behind her back. He saw it, but he didn’t care.

“Why don’t we get in the car and drive anywhere but here?” Zeke asked knowing full well she might kill him in a minute. He didn’t care anymore about living or dying. Abby was what he wanted. There is no way he would rather go. For the first time in his life he had met someone who could understand. She smiled a small smile before he leaned down and kissed her. It was the most terrifying and exhilarating thing he had ever done, but it was the first time in a very long time that someone had made him feel something without their blood being on his hands.

She kissed him back and let the switchblade fall to the grass. “Anywhere but here,” she said.

They picked up their machetes and put them under the seats of the old pickup truck. As they drove towards the setting sun both of them felt at peace.

About an hour down the road they came across a young man thumb stuck out in the road looking for a ride. They looked at each other and a smile came across both their faces.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Zeke asked. He already knew the answer that her nod confirmed. Their day was far from over.

“Looking for a ride sweetheart?” Abby asked out the window smiling her innocent smile. The boy hopped up in the car sitting between the two of them unaware of what was in store. The radio played in the background. “I’m on the Highway to hell,” and Abby couldn’t help but wonder if there really is a God.