THE HITCH-HIKER

Inspired by 'The Hitch-Hiker' from Leonard Nimoy's 'The Way I Feel' LP

"Hey, man, you really aughtta know better than to pick up a hitch-hiker! Ha! Ha-Ha!" Oh, that's real funny, a real good laugh! An' this is a real fine piece of machinery, too. Full tank. Good. Aughtta take me cleeeear down to Georgia. Poor dupe - now it's his turn to stand in the rain while I move it on down the road to where the sunshine is. There ain't a homestead for miles - by the time he walks back to town, I'll be loooong gone over the county line. Heh! Reckon I'll keep off the Interstate, jest in case. Plenty of byways here, an' it's so wet, folk'll stay indoors awhile. What's this in the dash? Can a' beer 'n' a bagful a' oranges! Real fine! Now let's see what this car can do - give her the gun, son!

---oo0oo---

Coupla hours now since I made the heist an' it's stopped rainin' at last, sun comin' out. Drivin' along this country road, in the middle a' nowhere. Gonna haveta stop. Pull in here - no! What's that noise? Cop car! Lights flashin', sirens screamin'! They're onto me! Outrun them? Too late. Haveta play it cool ... Put on my shades, hide my face some. Here they come - two cops - passin' me now - lookin' at me - an keepin' goin'! Not me they're after! Yee-hah!

Cain't stop yet - keep drivin' till they're outta sight 'n case they git suspicious ... Gone now. Drive off the road, park outta sight behind that ad hoarding.

Now, let's see what I stole. Holy polony! Lookit the wad'a notes in his wallet! I'm rich! A coupla grand at least! Hey, hey, hey! Your problems are over, old son! Now she'll want you back! Let's open the trunk. Say, now what have we here? Coupla suitcases - golf clubs - but what's this? A flask? Why's it strapped upright to this case? One of them executive cases, with a security lock ... Damn! Cain't get it open ... without the combination. Hm. Look in his wallet, see if there's anythin' there ... nope. Glove compartment? Hey, a piece! Powerful one, too! Who is this guy, anyway? Driving licence ... Dr John Fuller, research chemist ... but that's not the picture of the guy I robbed! What's goin' on here? Credit cards - with lotsa different names?

What's in this flask? Says nothin' on it. Wonder what it is? Uncork it ... Clear liquid - no smell ... Damn! Spilled some onto my hand ... Ah! It stings! Acid? Better wash it off, fast! What's lefta the beer'll do ... there, that's better. Ditch it in the bushes.

Now, let's see what's in this case. Real fine clothes - reckon they'll fit me, too. Funny, the guy I pushed out into the rain was small, squat. Oh, well, never mind. Expensive suit, shirts, sweaters, the whole thing. Still nobody around. Fine. Shuck my dirty shirt and jeans - put on them fancy duds. Pants - a bit wide at the waist - but my belt'll see to that. Shirt - jacket. Good! Real good! Even a portable razor. Shave while I drive. Reckon I'll work on that combination later, when I stop for the night.

Next thing - ditch the Georgia numberplates - don't need them. Hey, the numberplates! WKY 426 - try that for the combination. Yeah! Right on! What is this? Papers, filled with chemistry symbols - must be for that liquid. Huh! No good to me! Ditch them, too.

Wonder if I can get a respray, fast? Move on down the road aways ... Soon be dark - should find somewhere. Damn! My hand's itchy ... red ... that stuff must've irritated my skin.

Town coming up - Bluefield. Places there. Oh, say, there's a garage still open - pull in. Grease monkey coming ...

"Can I fill you up, sir?"

"Yeah, sure." I get out the car, stand beside the guy, put my hand on his shoulder, neighbourly-like. "Say, can you do me a favour?"

"What's that, sir?"

He looks at me eagerly - he's only a kid, 18, 19 or so. Could do with a fast buck, I reckon. "Do you do resprays?"

"Uh, sure, sir, but we got a lot of work on just now - say in a coupla days?"

"No good. Look ..." I flash the wad of notes, peel off two hundreds. His eyes widen. "Tonight - no questions asked - and another hundred in the morning."

I was right, he grabs the money. "Any special color, sir?"

I laugh and walk away, tossing him the keys. Take the suitcase with me. The neon lights of a hotel are up ahead. Do fine. Sure fancy a good meal - no more'a that greasy diner cookin'. The Desk Clerk at Reception looks up from his paper. "Good evening, sir. A room?"

"Yeah, with bath."

"That'll be thirty-five dollars, sir - in advance."

I peel off a fifty. "Dinner now, breakfast in bed - seven-thirty?"

He nods, gives me a key and I find my own way upstairs, carrying the suitcase. My hand itches ...

---oo0oo---

Shower, change of clothing, down to the bar for a drink. Sure could do with one.

Nice bar, dim lights, C & W music, a few people sitting at tables and - a woman, sitting drinking alone at the bar. Long, blonde hair, shapely, dress cut down ta there, skirt up ta there - oh, man! Down, boy! Not a good idea. There's a little gal waitin' at the end of the road. But what if she hasn't waited? What if ... I sidle up to the bar, hitch myself over a stool two along from her. The barman nods a "What'll it be?"

"Bourbon, on the rocks - and whatever the lady's drinkin'". Barman gives me a penetrating look, which is nothin' to what she gives me. She turns towards me, looks at my face, then her eyes travel down to check me out. My interest in her is showin' an' her scrutiny makes it more obvious. She smiles crookedly before speaking.

"Make it a Buck's Fizz, Tony." Her voice is deep, sexy, with a pleasant Southern drawl. "Thanks, stranger."

I move to the stool next to her. What the hell ...

---oo0oo---

After dinner she leaves the table first, taking my key. I pay the bill, then follow. I feel people's eyes watching disapprovingly.

Half way up the stairs, I feel strange, dizzy. Haveta sit down on a step till it passes. Lasts only a moment, then I feel fine again.

When I open the door to my room she's standin' there, fully dressed, legs apart, arms akimbo. She looks down at me again but, since I had that funny turn on the stair, I have nothin' to show.

"What's the matter, big boy? Lost interest?" she taunts, moving forward to stand in front of me. Her perfume fills the room, making me feel nauseous. I try to fight the nausea back as I embrace her. Holding her tight against me, I kiss her hard. I fumble with her dress's zip and finally succeed in undoing it. She stands before me, naked as a jaybird, but still, nothing happens. I don't understand ... a violent shiver shakes me, and the nausea increases. I'm gonna - be sick - I turn and run to the bathroom. When I get back, she's gone ...

Feel - weak. Head - spinnin' - think I'm gonna ...

---oo0oo---

Ohhhh! Lying - on the floor. Musta - passed out. Morning. The sunlight - hurts my eyes. I don't feel so good - must have caught a chill standin' in that rain yesterday ... Knocking - on the door. Try to - stand - stagger to the door, open it.

"Breakfast, sir?" the boy says brightly. His face changes when he sees me.

The smell of the food on his trolley makes me feel sick again. "No, forget it!" I say and slam the door in his face. Uh! Shudder - shakes my body - must go - to the bathroom ... Sick! What are these blotches, all over me? Funny - my whole arm is swollen, red - look at myself in the mirror - God! I look awful! Gotta get outta here - be home in Atlanta - by tonight ... See a doctor there. Must get dressed, pack the suitcase, go get the car. I feel weak as a kitten as I walk down through Reception. Dizzy, I have to hang on to the Reception Desk.

The Desk Clerk says "Sir! Are you all right? You don't look well."

"Uh, yeah, just a - chill, I guess." and I walk shakily out of the hotel, down the road. The boy is there beside the car, taking the masking tape off the windshield and windows. He gives me a strange look. Wordlessly I give him the hundred bucks, throw the suitcase in the back, climb in and drive away.

Gotta go on the Interstate - get to Atlanta quicker. Turn the radio on. Uhhh! Sweating ... shaking ... what is the matter with me? I wipe the sweat from my face. I hear the radio saying "...aged about thirty-five, six feet tall, brown hair, slim build. If you have seen this man, do not apprehend him - I repeat, do not apprehend him. He has been infected by a potentially lethal dose of virus."

Huh? Keep going - must - keep going. My eyes - cain't seem to - focus them. What's that noise behind me? Why don't the road - stay still? Cain't seem to - drive straight. Cop car sirens wailing behind me. Cain't stop now, must get - to Georgia ...

Car - catches a curb, spins over and over and over and over ... Ahhhhh!

---oo0oo---

The car's ... a wreck. I'm trapped - at the wheel. Cain't move. It hurts - real bad. I hear a voice saying "Keep well back, stay away from him - he's highly contagious." I'm cold, so cold ... Someone touching me. I make an effort, and focus on him - a man, dressed in a strange coverall. Through its plastic mask I recognise his face - the man in the driving licence picture. He's holding a needle. I feel a prick in my arm and hear him speaking to me. "Tell me, quickly - where's the flask? WHERE?"

Cain't breathe to speak. I cough and taste blood, feel it trickle out the side of my mouth. It's such an effort, but I try again and manage to whisper "Lay-by ... just before ... Bluefield ..."

Someone says "Is he gonna be OK, Doctor?"

The doctor looks away and shakes his head. "It's too late."

No more strength, no more time. It's getting dark ... I really shoulda known better ... than to hijack a stolen car ...

---oo0oo---

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