Hitchhiker

Paul was driving down the bumpy back roads of Silver Meadows, hoping for some sign of life to spring out. A deer, a farmer, hell a moth would have done just fine. His eyes glanced around the road as “People are Strange” blared out of the speakers of his ‘89 Chrysler. He felt as alone in the world as he was in the car, the emptiness of his life engulfing him like the darkness of the evening.

Paul had been driving for nearly four hours now and he was starting to feel fatigued. His search for a hotel was halted by the city limits sign that hung loosely on the frosted pole at the edge of the small town: “Thank you for staying in Silver Meadows.”

“Great, just what I need. This is nuts,” he said to no one but the radio.

Every tree started to blend into the next. The lines in the middle of the road started to fade lighter and lighter in the bright rays of the headlights. The macadam below him slowly turned to dirt.

“Perfect,” Paul said aloud.

Paul heard the rhythmic beats of the raindrops a split second before he saw them in his windshield. He listened as they pelted out a slight, tap tap tap on the hood of the Chrysler. The rain came down in slanted sheet-like tears from heaven. Paul felt uneasy. The moon slowly disappeared behind the trees. This was not a place Paul wanted to be. This was not Paul’s happy place. As a matter of fact, this was the opposite. This was like the beginning of a horrible nightmare, the kind that you can’t shake even hours after you’ve already awoken.

It was raining harder now. Paul felt the deepness of the dark sweep over him. He allowed fear to seep into every cell of his body and he slipped into hopelessness. He decided his fate was sealed right here in this moment. Paul was sure that no one was as lonely or hopeless as he was now.

One hundred yards ahead of him, Paul saw something peeking through the trees. Whatever it was, he knew that it wasn’t a being of foliage. Paul was now fifty yards away, and he could make out arms, legs, and a head. His first sign of life for miles was a hitchhiker. Twenty yards away now, he saw that it was a young woman, early twenties maybe. He saw her thumb extended and she was holding a newspaper over her head.

“Should I pick her up?” Paul said, addressing the radio once more. Paul’s eyes widened as he got closer to the girl, although he did not know why. He didn’t usually pick up hitchhikers, but for some reason Paul felt the compulsion to pick up this young girl. There was some unseen force pushing his foot down on the brake.

Paul’s Chrysler slowed to a creep as it stopped just short of where the girl was standing. She trotted back to the car and got into it, flicking her long black hair as she did so.

“Thank you so much for stopping,” she said. She turned her face towards Paul’s. Her eyes stared deep into his. “You’re the first person I’ve seen in like two, three hours.”

“My pleasure,” Paul said. He couldn’t stop staring at her. “Name’s Paul, Paul Renfro.”

“Lily Blossom Greywolf. Nice to meet you, Paul Renfro.”

“As it is you, Lily.”

Paul pulled back into the road cautiously. He looked instinctively at the rearview window, although he knew no one was behind him. He heard the clicking of the turn signal that he hadn’t remembered turning on.

“So, ‘Lily Blossom Greywolf’…that’s an interesting name. Were your parents like hippies or something?”

Lily laughed. Paul liked her laugh. To him, it sounded like a million angels dancing in the moonlight. She pushed her charcoal colored hair back with her fingers.

“No, silly. I’m Native American.”

“Ah…you’re an Indian.”

“Yes.” She said. Lily stared out the window of the car as Paul sped down the gravel road, away from Silver Meadows. The pale moon sliced through the darkness of the night like a hot knife through butter.

Paul glanced over at Lily, who was smiling to herself.

“So,” he said, trying hard to avert his eyes away from this gorgeous girl before him, “where ya headed?”

Lily looked over at Paul with eyes as clear blue as the sky. The most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen, Paul thought to himself.

“Anywhere but here,” she answered. She shifted nervously in her seat as if the question was the beginning of an interrogation with the moonlight being its lamp.

“What? Why? What’s wrong with Silver Meadows? It’s got everything you could ever want.”

Lily looked at Paul with the sad eyes of a child. He figured that she was no more than seventeen. Eighteen tops.

“Yeah…everything. You see, my father is a very powerful Shaman on the Sioux reservation on the other side of town. He’s very traditional when it comes to our customs, feels he needs to adhere to all of them and never question. But not me, no sir. I know the differences between our religion and the real world. See Papa got very upset when I left the reservation school to attend the public school in Silver Meadows. Said I was going to get the white man’s education and there was nothing they could teach me aside from how to be like them. He got even more upset when I met my first boyfriend, Charlie. Charlie was amazing, let me just tell you. He was just so down to earth, ya know? He had one of those smiles that just made you feel safe. He was very intelligent and he taught me all sorts of different things.”

“And your father didn’t appreciate that I take it?” Why did Paul have such a vested interest in this girl all of a sudden? He didn’t know; he felt himself drawn to her story.

“Not at all, especially since Charlie was a white man. He also had a reputation around school as being kind of a player, but that was before I met him. Charlie and I were going to get married after we graduated. We had it all planed out, Paul. But then…”

“Then what?”

“Then Papa found out that I was pregnant. He ranted and prayed to his gods and…he beat me. He kicked me so hard that I ended up losing my baby. Then Papa and the Tribe Elders had Charlie arrested; they said he raped me. But I swear he didn’t. Papa disowned me then, which by their laws meant that the reservation could use me however they wanted. And they did. Over and over again.”

Lily turned to the window of the Chrysler. Tears began to form in her eyes as the memories washed over her like rain washed over the car. Paul hung his head. He wished that he hadn’t asked her. The light of the moon sliced through the trees and the rain. It was full and bright.

The song on the radio finally came to an end. Paul hadn’t remembered taking the CD off repeat, and switching the radio on…but he did, or at least a part of him did.

“This is Zack Mason,” the d.j. said, reassuring everyone that he was still listening, “and its time for the 94.8 radio newsbreak. The Silver Meadows Strangler is still at large. The Silver Meadows sheriff’s department has issued a statement regarding this mass murderer saying, quote, ‘Sooner or later this maniac will be brought to justice. We only pray it will be sooner than later’. Forensic evidence has still brought about no leads but the sheriff is still hopeful. No information has been released, but we do know that the Strangler is said to be very athletic. Police are not ruling out a female suspect at this point, because of the inherently nonviolent method involved. Police ask that if you have any information please report it directly to the Silver Meadows Sheriff’s department. And now back to forty minutes commercial free rock right here on 94.8 WJGD.”

The radio pumped out a hard guitar riff before Paul abruptly shut it off. He glanced over to Lily, who was now crying uncontrollably. She was crying in rhythm with the rain.

“Lily, what’s wrong?” Paul’s voice was condescending towards Lily. His face became expressionless. He suddenly switched gears from compassion to coldness.

She turned back to Paul and looked almost devilish.

“What’s wrong? My own father caused me to lose the two things in my life I ever cared about. And all because of some blindly lead belief in some god that does shit for his people down here. He pushed our people off of our land and gave it to the nondeservers. And he allowed my father to beat me and rape me. Fuck him and his god.”

Paul’s eyes lit up. A Cheshire grin crept across his face. His face twisted into an uncontrollable grimace. Paul pulled the car over to the side of the road very roughly. Lily almost fell out of her seat. Her heart began to race as Paul shut off the engine. He removed his glasses and stared into her deep blue eyes.

“What if I were to tell you that there are no gods? No angels? No heaven? What if I were to tell you that the only thing awaiting you when you die is nothingness? What then? You’re escaping your family, Lily, your past. And I sat here and listened. Yet, you haven’t asked me where I’m going. You haven’t asked me why I’m out here this late at night. You haven’t asked me anything about myself. That’s a little selfish, don’t you think? Don’t you think it’s a little rude to not ask your rescuer anything about them at all? Ask me Lily. Go ahead. Ask me anything. Ask me why I’m out here, ask me my profession. Ask me where I’m from. Ask me about my life. Go ahead and ask me…Ask me, you little slut.”

Lily cried harder, but more from fear than anything. She started to reach for the door to escape, to just run away, far into the woods when she heard the click of the lock. Paul’s eyes went blank; spittle hung from his lips and dripped off his chin.

“Why are you out here?” she sobbed.

“Aye there’s the rub! The great questions of life, huh Lil? Why am I out here? Why am I out here?” He leaned closer to her. She could feel his hot breath on her face. He was so close to her that she could see the vein in his forehead bulging off the surface. “I am out here for one simple reason…business. And my business, is Native American runaways. See, Lily, I’m in the business of you.”

He reached behind him and pulled out a pair of black leather gloves. His face was twisted into an evil gaze. He slowly slid his hands into the gloves. Lily’s heart leapt from her chest. She searched desperately for the door handle. Now it was all so clear.

Please, God, she thought to herself as she felt around the door behind her. Her fingers clasped around the lock and she pulled up. She kicked Paul in the face and pushed out the door. The door flew open and Lily rolled down the embankment Paul had parked on. Bruised, scared, she ran…ran as if the devil himself were chasing her…

He is, she thought.

Footsteps.

Behind her.

Following her.

“You fucking bitch! I’m gonna gut you like a little piggy!”

She heard obscenities being yelled at her. She wanted to stop and rest. Her legs felt weak and the rain had turned the ground to mud. She slipped, fell face first in the dirt. She didn’t move. Maybe if I stay still he won’t notice me. She knew it was horrible logic, but terror had stifled all logical thought.

“Ten little, nine little, eight little Indians,” she heard. Her body ached. She was halfway into the woods.

“Seven little, six little, five little Indians.” She heard a nearby twig break. She closed her eyes tight and pushed herself up.

“Four little, three little, two little Indians.”

She felt a hand squeezing hard on the back of her neck. Blood dripped onto her head. He flipped her around. Her well placed kick had broken his nose and the blood just made him seem that much more demonic.

“One little Indian girl. Say goodnight, Lil…”

The woods echoed the sounds of his mocking Indian war cry.

~*~

“Bullshit,” Deputy Stone said. He and Deputy Sharpe were shooting darts—and the shit—waiting for the sheriff to arrive. “That’s bullshit and you know it, Tommy. Jessica Alba is way hotter than Jessica Simpson.”

Sharpe sat down with a thump and took a Nerf football off of Stone’s desk.

“Yea,” he said, “but I’d still put it in her.” The two men laughed.

“Gentlemen,” a booming voice came from in front of them, “is something funny?”

“No sir.”

“What’s new with this Silver Meadows Strangler case?”

Sharpe reached for a file and handed it to the sheriff.

“We got a call from a farmer out on Mill Road. Says he found her this morning. Her name is Lily Blossom Greywolf. She was eighteen years old. She lived on the Sioux Reservation on the other side of town. We’re still trying to figure out how she got all the way out here.”

The sheriff took a quick glance at the file, closed it and handed it back to Sharpe.

“She put up a fight though, sir. There were two sets of footprints, so we think she was attacked up by at the road first. There was also blood on her hair that didn’t obviously belong to the victim.”

“Say, sheriff,” Stone said, “what the hell happened to you?”

Sheriff Paul Renfro felt his broken nose and winced in pain.

“Hunting accident.”