The Passenger

He looked over at me; his glare spoke thousands of words. It felt like ice-penetrating deep into my soul.

"They deserved to die back there, man up Joey boy," the words dripped off his lips.

"Burn? All of them?" I stammered...

"Yes, Joey boy. Keep driving now." He said as he fiddled with the radio.

I wasn't a killer but back there. Back at home, it did feel so right when he came to me in the middle of the night and whispered in my ear as they slept in their beds that just some gas, some rope, that they would all pay. I lit a match and watched the flames dance in the moon glow as I turned my back and walked towards my car with this passenger in tow. We got in, the roar of the engine of the classic muscle car came to life. The smell of burnt tires as we peeled away. It was all just surreal what came to be, not yet just hitting me of the multitude of my actions.

As I drove on, my eyes stayed on the road. The yellow divider almost hypnotizing me. My leg felt stone on the gas peddle; it was an automatic function.

"We going to need money, Joey boy."

"I know."

"You brought the gun, right, Joey boy?"

I nodded and continued to drive. A string of firetrucks passed me.

"A little too late." I thought to myself.

More firetrucks passed, a couple ambulances also. Sirens blaring on the open highway. Their blue and red lights disappearing into the distance in my rearview mirror. I looked at my passenger; he sat back in his seat, window open, enjoying a cigarette, relaxed. I could not understand how anyone could be so calm after what we had just done. I wanted to scream, I wanted to pound my hands on the steering wheel, and I wanted to cry. I was being ripped apart inside.

I continued to drive. Loud music continued to fill my ears as the pounding heavy beats of rock music moved me to speed just a little faster. Part of me hoped maybe a police car would pull me over for speeding, but it never happened. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw something start to dart across the road. A deer. I slammed on the breaks. Swerving and narrowly missing it.

"You should have hit it, Joey boy, then at least we could have gotten bloody carving it up with your knife." He laughed with an evil sneer playing across his lips.

"Fuck you." I plainly replied as I pulled back onto the road.

We drove in silence. Every so often, he would light up a cigarette, take deep puffs and blow the smoke in my face. I wanted to reach over, slap him, throw him out of my car. There was just some unnatural pull that told me I couldn't. He was my partner, even though I really did not like him. I sensed a darkness in him. Something sinister about him. Something pure evil. He came to me the first time in the middle of the night a couple weeks ago. I woke up, and he was sitting at the end of the bed. He was actually pretty friendly back then. We talked, he listened as I told him all my problems and gave me some great advice. I never did ask how he got in my room. Maybe I should have.


A week ago, he came into my room as usual. Joey boy, he called me always. He was like, "Joey boy, I think I solved the problem with your family. They need to die!" And from that, the planning started.

I wasn't too sure that my family really needed to die. They weren't that bad. They were bullies, two older brothers and a father. I got no respect, I got their anger and was treated like shit, but that was no reason to kill them, right? He told me it was. He said they needed to die. We formed a plan using what I could get around the house. Which turned out to be many cans of gas my father stored in the attached double garage. We saturated the doors, the carpets, everything and anything as they slept soundly in their beds. The day before, I disabled the smoke alarms. It was perfect. The house went up like a matchbook. He was disappointed we could not stay around to watch it burn.

I watched as he flipped the radio station on me again. Soon the pulse of techno beat at ninety-eight beats per minute filled the car. The music filled me as my foot pressed on the gas pedal a little more.

"You like that, huh, Joey boy?" He laughed, throwing his head back in some almost child-like glee.

"Would you shut the fuck up? I need to start thinking about what we going to do." I snapped back.

"I was thinking, Joey boy, that we should hit up a couple quick gas stations and head for the United States before morning." He said, looking at me with a big smile now on his face.

"Give me a fucking minute. I need to think. Just shut the fuck up for a few, okay? I growled at him, snarling with a wave of unbound anger filling my body.

He looked at me, shocked, and I laughed at him. I'm not sure why but this laugh escaped my body, like a bubble rising from the bottom of my soul. He kept looking at me. I kept laughing and began to throw my head back as my body began to shake as each laugh escaped. Calming myself, I grabbed one of his cigarettes that he had been smoking and lit it for myself. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed that he was still looking at me, but this time more so a look of puzzlement. I had a sudden urge to push him out of the car. I would have to right then, and there if I hadn't known, I would crash in the process.

Fuck! This is all his fault. I shouldn't have listened to him. Why did I? I could be asleep in my bed right now, not speeding down the highway in the middle of the night. How long would it take for them to put the fire out? To discover three bodies and not four? Why was he here with me? Fuck so many questions, and he was right. What was I going to do for money? What I took was a mere couple hundred, and that wasn't going to get us nowhere.

"Okay, your right. We need to get money somehow." I said, rubbing my father's Glock on the seat beside me.

"Now your thinking right, Joey boy. Next service station, we pull in, and we going to rob that place!" He said with a giggle of glee.

We drove for what seemed hours in silence when in reality, it was barely twenty minutes. I kept looking over at him. He sat there calmly watching the road ahead when finally the faint glow of lights ahead came into view. We pulled into the parking lot and sat for a minute.

"Don't even think of chickening out. " He spoke. "Pick up the fucking gun!"

I picked up the gun and slid it into the back of my jeans, getting out of the car. He grinned at me, and I followed him into the store. I walked around, up and down isles picking up candy, some chips, and even a case of beer that no way in hell was I old enough to buy in my seventeen years of life. I slowly walked up to the counter. I was shaking so bad. I couldn't do this. I did terribly enough already tonight.

"Do it, wuss." He whispered in my ear.

I put my things down on the counter, and the women behind it began to ring up my items. She was if I had to guess, in her mid-twenties. My hands were shaking.

"I need to see some I.D. if you going to buy this beer, sir." The cashier said.

"Sure." I stammered.

I reached behind my back like I was pulling out my wallet. Instead, I pulled out the gun I had tucked in my jeans and jammed it in her face.

"This is my I.D. bitch." I screamed with a sudden burst of confidence.

He danced beside me with child-like innocence.

"All the money in the till, put it in a plastic bag, and throw in some cartons of cigarettes too," I screamed at her again, shaking the gun in her face.

The cashier started shoving the money from the till in a plastic bag. Tears flowing down her cheeks. I felt bad for her, but this needed to be done. Still crying, she filled a bag with cartons of cigarettes. He got closer to me.

"No witnesses, shoot the dumb bitch." He screamed.

The gun shook in my hand.

"Shoot her."

"Shoot her."

"SHOOT HER."

BANG!!!

The gun went off. The cashier slumped back, blood starting to flow from a now noticeable gunshot wound in her right eye. I grabbed the money and cigarettes from the counter, and we ran to my car. I gunned the engine of my waiting running car, and we peeled out of there. We drove in silence, taking in what we had just done. I reached for a smoke and lit it before finally speaking.

"Wow, I can't believe we did that." looking straight ahead, focusing on the road.

No reply.

I looked over. He wasn't in the seat beside me. I jerked around to check the back seat. He wasn't there either. Could I have left him accidentally back at the service station? No. I know I heard his door slam. I know I did! What the fuck happened to him. Suddenly I heard his voice, but it wasn't coming from the seat beside me, it was coming from inside my head.

"Fuck Joey boy, you really are one crazy fucker."