He had walked for miles, the dry dust of the desolate road stinging his eyes and clouding his vision, caking hardened earth on the inside of his labored lungs. The sun over head was a bright, angry red, and poured out an angry onslaught of blistering heat on his sun scorched face. He walked in a kind of lurching motion, weariness, hunger, and thirst clenching in his stomach and slowing his weathered mind. 

He had nothing, save a large, tattered overcoat, which wrapped around his ankles when he walked. Everything else he had left along the roadway, in order to save himself the weight of carrying it. Not that he had much else, save a few pots and pans and a plastic water bottle. All useless with no food to prepare, and no water to drink. 

He was walking along a dusty back road, and had seen no one else on it. It was most likely abandoned, and the odds of him seeing anyone were scarce. He had not eaten for days, and the cramps in his stomach made it hard to walk. This was nothing, however, compared to his thirst. He could not remember the last time he had drank anything, and he had to frequently stop to cough up thick masses of dirt, often followed by bouts of dry heaving. His head throbbed with a aching, feverish pain, which radiated through his skull, and left small black dots on his blurry vision.

He knew the odds of being found were little, but that had not stopped him from constantly looking ahead at the abandoned dirt road before him, as if a rapture might appear at any moment, spewing cold water from the burning dust. Whether it was these thoughts that kept him going, or the inability to think beyond them was uncertain, even to him. He walked simply because he had to walk. Around each bend in the road lie another chance of salvation, and his life now depended solely on finding it. So, with a lurching step, and head downcast, he pressed on.

He was unsure of how long he walked like this, minutes and hours had long since melded into obscurity. He knew only when he stopped, when the pebbles along the roadside began to jump. He knew, better than any, what that meant. A car was coming. Salvation had finally arrived. 

The car pulled up, a teal sedan with three passengers. The radio played loudly out of the lowered windows, overlaid with three high pitched voices, singing and laughing. He waved his hands frantically, and he could see the driver look in his direction. He shuffled his way to the car, hands still waving. 

Without a word, the windows in the car rolled up, and the car sped past him, without a backward glance. He fell to the ground, choking violently on the dust the car left behind. And with one last pleading glance, he watched as salvation vanished, swallowed by the quickly fading horizon.

Listen to Me – it’ll be all right!! 

       Traveling down asphalt ribbons

       two friends and I roared

       tossing back heads with laughter

       steered toward hitchhiker,

       squealed our brakes

       and took a chance at life.

Listen to me – it’ll be all right!

       Walking with turmoil

       thumb pointing to heaven

       traveling heart ruling the road

       crests of somber smoke

       circled his head

       standing forlorn

       in drugged rain -

       an ominous warning.

Listen to me – it’ll be all right!

       Dark soul and onyx eyes

       striding through yesterday’s fog

       lightning flashed omens of ill portent

       holding a gun, he waved us out

       shadows reaching like snakes

       this is where you’re gonna die.

Listen to me – it’ll be all right! 

       I stepped on the gas

       in black inky light

       his body sailed in air

       blood on our windshield

       reflections of no return

       stained our hands

       seeping sinister shades

       hiding unfurled evil

       which had oozed

       into our souls

       then crossed the river

       of rough scowling waters.

Listen to me – it’ll be all right!

Three friends on a road trip almost collide,

With a hot hitchhiker in the countryside.

Fabio hair,

A fine derriere,

Wholly captivated, they give him a ride.

A long drive shortened by conversation,

Along with ample overt flirtation.

He confessed he was gay,

They gasped, "No way!"

But still enjoyed their platonic vacation.

Laura tried to ignore her tone deaf besties trying to sing what she believed was a Beyonce song. Perhaps it was a old Destiny's Child tune. Laura couldn't be quite sure. She never was into either. Honestly, Laura was sometimes surprised Suzy and Rachel still dragged her along on their harebrained adventures. The last few years of high school seemed to show that she was bound on a different destiny then the other two. Still, the friendship was solid even if their paths were starting to diverge.

Laura flipped the page to 'Slaughterhouse-Five' and tried to tune them out. Rachel went sharp, Suzy laughed, Laura groaned yet smiled in spite of herself.

"Hey Look!" Rachel suddenly interjected, "a hitchhiker. We should give him a lift!"

"Absolutely not! He looks sort of creepy," retorted Suzy, who seemed to step on the accelerator to try to pass him.

"Come on! Would you want to be walking this road? And anyway, he has a cute ass. What say you, Laurie? Should we give the guy a lift?"

Laura took a look at the man and knew she would be the one stuck sitting with him regardless. "Well, he does have a nice ass," Laura said in a very sardonic way.

Rachel, always oblivious to Laura's dry sarcasm, smiled. "It is settled. Pull over Suze."

Suzy grumbled, but pulled over. Rachel rolled down her window, "Need a lift mister?"

"Thanks! Yes! I didn't think anyone would offer. Been walking for hours. Name is Paul by the way."

Paul opened the back door and slid in next to Laura. His 'nice ass' aside, he was pretty average everything. At least a days worth of stubble on his face, muddy brown eyes, thin lips, a slight scar through his right eyebrow. Midwestern accent. You would lose him in a crowd of ten people.

"So where to Paul?" Rachel asked, in her over-flirtatious way when anyone of the opposite sex was even remotely good-looking was in her proximity.

"The next station is fine, Thanks," Paul said simply while looking at Laura and her book, "You know, I met Mr. Vonnegut a few years before he passed away. Interesting fellow. Interesting life."

"Really?" Laura asked, suddenly finding Paul perhaps a bit more interesting.

"Yeah..."

They spoke for about ten minutes before they came across a gas station in this middle of nowhere. Suzy seemed to be all to happy to pull over and have Paul be on his merry way.

"Thanks ladies. You three are angels in a world of misanthropes."

~~~

A week later, as Laura lounged on her sofa, still reading Slaugherhouse-Five', her door bell rang. When she answered, Rachel was standing there, excited as can be. A limo was waiting in the drive.

"Come on Laura! Adventure time!"

"What's with the limo?"

"It's Paul's! That guy we helped. Seems he's loaded and wants to reward our kindness."

"By?"

"Duh. Limo! Adventure! Don't be such a fraidy-cat! Laurie! I expect it from Suze, but not you."

I promised myself I would give a hitchhiker a ride. I will, next time. But there was always reason not to. His hair is greasy. There isn’t enough room in the truck. The dogs won’t like it. It’s snowing too hard. Maybe if I had a friend in here with me. The list was never-ending and I stuck to my routine, unsure if my reasons were really because I was afraid.

It had been snowing all night and I decided to head to the mountain to go skiing. My excitement childlike, I loaded the dogs in the truck, piled my skis and boots in back, and threw my old thermos onto the passenger floor. I started the trek up to the mountain, Heart of Gold turned up as loudly as the dogs could stand it. This was our routine in the winter and they happily co-piloted.

I made it around a curve and in the distance saw a figure on the side of the road with a pack and skis. I slowed down, pulled up alongside, and rolled down the window. The man glanced inside; I could see the skepticism on his face. My hair was greasy and my clothes were a neon array of synthetics. He eyed the dogs, unsure of whether they were friendly or not. The man surely must have wondered why I stopped along a curve in a blizzard to give him a lift. It occurred to me that for years I silently judged, always driving past, and the one time I stopped he was going to refuse my offer for the same reasons.

But instead I saw him stare at the falling snowflakes, eyes alight with possibility. Without any questions he threw his belongings in the bed of the truck and climbed inside. The dogs glared and moved to the bench in back. I wondered if it is always this uncomfortable at first, the silence almost unbearable, so I turned Neil back up.

The man began to sing, removing his hat to reveal curly brown hair. He turned to me and asked if I was headed into the backcountry today. His smile was captivating, eyes bright blue. He said he had just got to town and was planning to spend the winter here. I nodded, unable to speak, because I didn’t anticipate my first hitch-hiker to be a dreamy mountain man.

We spent the winter together, every day accented with his smile sparkling beneath his helmet and his carefree spirit showing me how to live. He taught me to became the owner of my freedom. And then one day he was gone, just like the snow that melted in the spring and made the creeks big and flowers grow. I sometimes question if he was real, but now I always stop for hitchhikers, secretly hoping his smile will appear under a hood, and share that streak of freedom he instilled in me with anyone adventurous enough to say yes. 

It was a dark and silent night when it happened. I was driving up to Arizona with my two best friends, Alexis and Morgan, when we spotted what looked like a hooded hitchhiker on the side of the road. Alexis suggested that we stop and give him or her a ride. Morgan was much more hesitant, however, siting that for all we know he could be a serial killer or a psychopath. I shared his sentiments but, since it was almost Christmas, I decided to pull over and give the person a ride. Lucky for us, I had a gun in the glove department. When I pulled over Alexis yelled, "DO YOU NEED A RIDE!?". We heard a man reply, "YES PLEASE! THANK YOU! THANK YOU!!". He rushed to the car and hopped in the back seat with Morgan. "Hello, my name is Kevin and this is Alexis and Morgan". "Nice to meet you all", the man replied. "And who are you?", Replied Morgan. The man took off his hood... It was him! The president of the united States of America!! Well, the former president of the united States of America. There was a coup, the rebels have taken control of the White House and the Pentagon. We heard that the president escaped but BY HIMSELF!? From the moment we first saw him, we knew that there was no going back. We had to help him in any way we can.

The fog gave the appearance that only the yellow lines were moving, as if the car were on a treadmill.  The car we had scoped out days ago, one we knew we could find unlocked with keys under the seat.  By the time anyone reported it gone, we would be too far away.

Nick and Jen were trying to sleep on the back seat and floor, all three of us wrapped in blankets from the trunk.

Rolling through fog late on a lonely road will lull a driver, but a sudden pedestrian will wake you right up.  I hit the brakes and tried to swerve, but a patch of snow caused me to skid to a stop at the side of the road.  Crap.  A broad-shouldered hooded man approached.  "He thinks I'm picking him up," I hissed toward the back seat.  "Stay down.  Act asleep!"

The passenger door jerked open.  "Thanks so much, lady," and he was seat-belting himself.  His voice sent a jolt through my whole body.  "I know it can be scary for a woman to pick up a hitchhiker, so I really appreciate this.  I have to get to the police station.  Have you seen anyone else out here tonight?  I'm looking for my daughter!"

My palms sweated through my gloves though this car had no heat.  This was the worst possible stroke of luck.  There were only two things going for me: the dome light was broken, and my hitchhiker was so hyped out on adrenaline he couldn't shut up.

"Can you take me into town?  My work truck, I got a flat.  Have you seen a teenage girl?  She never came home!  One of our neighbors had a car stolen earlier today, the storm took out the cell tower, we can't call anywhere--I need to get to the police station.  My daughter's the second girl gone missing this week..."

His hysterical rattling continued till I sped the stolen car away from the police station where I left him at the curb, apparently still oblivious he hadn't been the only passenger.

Finally Nick spoke.  "I can't believe your own dad didn't recognize you.  You okay?"

My heart was still punching my throat.  "That was the weirdest coincidence ever, " I said.  "But my dad had his chance.  I told him about Jen, and he said we should mind our own business.  Well guess what?  In two hours we cross the state line, and we'll get Jen to safety with her grandparents.  You'll get in trouble for hiding her in your basement for five days after she ran away from the abuse, and I'll get in trouble for stealing the neighbors' car, and my dad will wish he had made this his business before I did it for him!"

Do yall wanna rape this dude to death?

uh huh.

well i aint gay but...aw what the hell.

The man sat in the back and chewed his nails for the next three hours and then suddenly asked to get out.

As they pulled away the quiet deepened and yawned and the men know somewhere down deep that it would have been better...

Give the hitchhiker a ride

Was what he said

I obeyed

Because he was after all

My friend

Turn right here

Was what he said

I obeyed

Because he was after all 

My friend

I drove into a dark alley

I felt a gate close over my heart

Come over here

Was what he said

I obeyed

Why shouldn't I refuse a friend?

The pale moonlight reflected off 

A blade

As the hitchhiker pulled it out

And I wonder for the first time 

If he really was a friend

"Where ya headed?" I ask the handsome drifter.

My friend shoots me a glance of 'you retard', but I persist. He's cute. For a scummy hobo. Everyone's got a type.

"Dallas." He replies with transient charm. "Where y'all headed?"

My timid friend, the driver, looks at me with 'fuck off' eyes. "Austin." I reply. "Hop in."

I open the door for the smelly handsome fella and my two girlfriends look at me like I just doomed us all.

"Relax." I say. They don't. Kate, the driver, turns away from me with a sigh, runs her hand through her hair - her trademark stress move.

I open the door for the scrawny yet muscular fellar and he gets in with soaping charm. "Appreciate the ride." He smirks at the back of my friends heads.

"No problem at all." I respond. "You from here?"

He laughs something awkward and my friends turn at the abrupt noise with fright. "Shit, I wish. Anywhere's better than where I'm from."

I turn cockeyed at him. "Well don't leave us in the dark." Kate starts down the county highway, merges into traffic. "Where ya from?"

He makes a face that's hard to like. "Heard 'a Juarez?"

I can feel my friends discomfort upfront. "Yup." I reply with controlled tone.

"Well, I'm from there."

After that no one says anything for about 30 or so miles. We let the shitty country music do the talking.

"What brings you up here?" I ask. "Sorry, what was your name again?"

"Didn't tell ya." He answers with a smirk, leans back real comfortable. "I's here to kill white girls. Like y'all."

My friends turn and see him smiling back at them, broken teeth and face tattoos.