He was driving northbound on the interstate, his eyes focused on the road ahead. Staying in the slow lane with the cruise control set to 65, he was in no particular hurry. Hell, he had all day and night, for that matter. This was his day. He’d made a point of clearing his so-called schedule for this. Not that he really had anything else to do. But the few things he’d normally do on a Wednesday had been pushed off ‘til tomorrow — or whenever he got around to it. His instincts had been right, because it was a glorious day, a day when people were out and about enjoying the first really nice afternoon in months. It was the perfect day for a drive like this.
End of April, beginning of May, he reflected, always put a spring in his step. He looked forward to it after a long, cold winter when most people stayed indoors and travel was down by half. It was during these leaner months that he sometimes felt the urge to be out cruising the highways almost unbearable. At times it got so bad that it was difficult even to breathe, but he knew he’d be wasting his time, not to mention gas.
Ever since he’d started collecting disability he’d had to start worrying about stuff like that, or at least be more cognizant of it. Things hadn’t been so bad, really, and it was a damn sight better than working for that smug bastard Turley down at the warehouse. Not only could Turley go to hell, but he’d like to send him there, personally. He felt the familiar rage starting to rise inside of him as he began to think of all the things he’d like to do to the short, balding man who’d reported him to management, but the promise the day held was just too splendid to spend it dwelling on someone who was no longer a significant factor in his life.
He’d been driving for about 30 minutes with nary a person in sight. Oh, there were other cars from time to time, but no stranded motorists, hitchhikers, road crews or jailbirds picking up trash. It didn’t surprise him, really, when you took into account he was somewhere between Mayburn and Tateville with nothing between the two small towns but cow country. The old wood-frame farmhouses sat a ways back from the road off in the distance, their weathered exteriors lending an air of quiet dignity to the landscape. Many of them had stood empty for years, like silent sentinels watching over the land.
Something about it was comforting to him in a way he couldn’t quite understand, but it gave him a sense of peacefulness. Was it continuity, maybe? Tradition? Longevity? No matter, it just seemed grounded to him, a simple way of life going back centuries representing continuity — yes, that was it, continuity. Well, maybe it wasn’t, but it felt solid and reassuring to him all the same, even if he didn’t exactly grasp why. Whatever it was, is what drew him to return to this place again and again, and he planned to later today for the solitude and convenience the location always afforded him.
Feeling relaxed and upbeat again, he glanced at the clock on the dashboard and noted the time. It didn’t really matter. He’d need to go another 30 or 40 miles before he began to find what he was looking for. It would be after Tateville but before Stubing that things would begin to pick up. People were always looking to go into Stubing to hit the outlet malls just outside of town or the big box stores the city itself had to offer, particularly when the weather was nice. And it surely was, no question about it.
He began to scratch his neck and throat absentmindedly as his thoughts continued to drift. He reached for the rearview mirror and pulled it toward him. He still hadn’t gotten used to the sight of himself freshly shaved, but it was time to let the beard go and mix it up a bit. It helped to change your looks every so often, he reminded himself. Besides, with the warmer weather on its way, the winter growth would no longer be welcome, especially when the temperatures turned stifling during the summer heat.
Up ahead he noticed what looked like a parked car on the side of the road about a mile from the next exit. His pulse started to quicken as the possibilities began to take shape in his head. But as he slowed his speed, he saw the bright orange sticker plastered to the rear window informing the owner that it was considered abandoned and at risk of being towed. A twinge of disappointment crept over him for just a split second as he accelerated and reset the cruise control. Too close to home, anyway, he thought to himself. There was still plenty of time, he reasoned, and reminded himself he could go on to the other side of Stubing, if need be. No worries. Something exciting was going to happen today. He could feel it.
Soon he was passing Tateville and he began to take a renewed interest in his surroundings. With each passing mile his senses seemed to sharpen. It had been a long time, and any minute now he expected to see what he was looking for. He was hyper focused when he saw the sole figure trudging along the shoulder of the interstate. From this far away it was hard to make out any details, but it could be a woman — and if it was, her knight in shining armor was on his way. He was, after all, the only one on this empty stretch of highway at the moment, and good Samaritans offering a lift could be far and few between.
At the sound of his approaching vehicle the figure commenced to turn and stuck out their thumb in hopes of getting a ride. That thumb belonged to a man of about 25, from the looks of it, and when our driver saw this he muttered a curse under his breath and continued on. It’s not that he’d never picked up a male hitchhiker before. It’s just that he didn’t get the same kick out of “assisting” them as he did females. Maybe it was the damsel in distress thing. Maybe it was the fact that the fairer sex was also physically the weaker sex and therefore less worrisome. Either way, he wasn’t stopping.
It wasn’t but 10 minutes more into his journey when he spotted her. At least he thought it was a her. She looked a little rough, as he coasted slowly by, but he pulled over onto the shoulder and eased to a stop about 25 yards from where she had stood, anyway, not really caring as to whether she’d win any prizes at a beauty contest. It hardly mattered, in his view. Watching her approach in the rearview mirror, he began to take stock of the car’s interior. He’d stowed his kit in the trunk under the spare tire before he’d left the house. He opened the console and double-checked its contents. Everything was right where it should be, as he knew it would. All systems go.
As she continued to near, he saw that she was wearing boots that came up just over the knees and her shirt was about three sizes too small for her. While not his usual type, it had been too long for him to get picky now. She was here, no one else was around to see them meet, and she’d scream and cry and plead for her life just like the rest of them. Of course, it would do her no good, because that’s what really got him off, but she wouldn’t necessarily know that. Actually, come to think of it, none of them ever had — or at least if they did they weren’t able to control their emotions, especially when the saw came out . . .
It’s about fricking time, she thought. It was getting too hot out there to stand around much longer in the sun, even in this mild weather, and walking any real length of time in those boots was out of the question. That, and the collar of her obscenely small child-sized T-shirt was strangling her, but it got people to pull over and offer her a lift. Small price to pay for a ride, she told herself. If nothing else, it was a lone driver, and from the looks of him as he passed, he seemed harmless enough. They all were, really, in her experience. There was no reason to think this one would be any different.
The anticipation within him was starting to build. He wasn’t nervous, just excited. He felt like a kid in a candy store, as the saying goes, or was it like a kid on Christmas day? That actually seemed more fitting, because on Christmas you got your presents and it was fully expected you’d open them, just like he was going to open her up. Stupid bitch, he mused, you have no idea what you’re letting yourself in for. It’s almost too easy sometimes how willingly they allow you to lead them like lambs to the slaughter. At that he chuckled to himself as she approached the passenger side of the car.
She purposely came around to the passenger door. For one thing, the driver’s side was a little too close to the highway and she didn’t want to risk getting hit by some myopic dipshit that couldn’t tell a moving car from a standing vehicle. The other reason is it gave her an opportunity to check out the situation without getting too close to him in case she needed to abort. As she reached the door, she leaned down and rested her hands atop her thighs just above the knees for support while peering inside. Both the driver’s and passenger windows were open, which is just what she wanted to see.
His face brightened when he saw her. He was just starting to open his mouth to ask her where she was going — not that it mattered, because she’d never live to see it —
when she pulled the gun from the top of her boot and put one neatly placed bullet right between his eyes, his brains exiting out the back of his head through the open window as he slumped against the door. A lot less messy that way, she thought with satisfaction. Nothing worse than boosting a ride with blood and guts smeared all over the upholstery. This way all she’d have to do is go around to the driver’s side, open the door, allow him to topple out, pull his feet free, hop in and drive off.
She smiled to herself and adjusted the mirrors before pulling out onto the highway heading northbound. While she couldn’t have waited much longer, she was glad she’d held out ‘til today. To hell with frigid temps. There was nothing like sunny weather to bring travelers out onto the interstate!