Not to be confused with “The Hitchhiker” from way back on October 25, 2017 (man, I’ve been doing this for a bit, haven’t I?). I mean, the “The” in that story makes it so different!! Well… I mean, it definitely turns out differently for the hitchhiker.
The full moon shone on the deserted stretch of road, turning the still waters of the lake just off the side of the road into shimmering silver in the night. The stillness belies the secrets hidden beneath the surface – especially the purported car that drove off the road into the water on a night just like this one, the woman at the wheel a jilted lover, distraught and didn’t see the edge of the road until she careened off into the cold waters, unable to free herself from the car and drowning beneath the waters of the lake… even though they never found the car… Or was she trying to get to her husband, but lost control of the car… Maybe she was trying to get to her children who she had left for just a moment, but a blown-out tire caused her to go off the road…
As the fog drifts up the short bank to the road, they say sometimes that woman can be found hitchhiking, hoping to get a ride to her lover/husband/children. When the hapless driver picks her up, she stares wordlessly out the window until one moment she just disappears…
Amanda had not heard this legend. Amanda didn’t care about legends because Amanda had just gotten off working a double at Valley General. Despite pounding her fourth (fifth?) Red Bull of her shift just before she left, Amanda was tired – wired, but exhausted. So Amanda didn’t notice her headlights shone through the bedraggled woman shivering on the side of the deserted road.
She pulled her Subaru Forester to the side of the road, lowering the passenger window.
“Why are you out this late?”
No response.
“You know what, just get in, honey.”
The woman wordlessly opened the back door and started to get in.
“Oh, shit, sorry – that’s my gym bag back there,” Amanda said, reaching back over the seat to awkwardly wrangle her lavender gym bag over the backseat into the trunk area, grunting with the effort. “Yeah, okay, that should be clear. Hop in!”
The hitchhiker climbed into the back seat and closed the door.
Amanda signaled and pulled back onto the road. “What are you doing hitchhiking at this time of night? Are you crazy? In that outfit? You’re going to die of hypothermia if you don’t get picked up by a serial killer first…”
The hitchhiker stared at Amanda with luminous eyes, filled with deep sadness.
“Hey, Sweetie,” Amanda snapped her fingers. “You with me, girl?”
The hitchhiker didn’t respond beyond her still, baleful stare, tears on the edge of falling down her pale cheeks.
“Where are you going, hon?”
No response.
“Yeah, okay…you just tell me when you need me to stop, okay? But really, what’s a girl like you doing out here? I was joking about the serial killer, but not really. I’m an ER nurse at Valley General and, let me tell you, I’ve seen so many young women just like you come in clinging to life. It’s so sad…” Amanda trailed off.
As a heavy stillness fell over the car, the hitchhiker turned her head to stare out the window into the darkness.
“I mean, they really should put up guard rails here, right? I’m not the first to suggest such a thing. But, noooo, they’re more concerned with wildlife crossings than keeping those of us who drive this road safe. Can I get an amen?” She waited a heartbeat, but when no “amen” was forthcoming, Amanda continued on, “I heard someone died out here when their car crashed into the lake.”
The hitchhiker’s face snapped back around to stare at Amanda in the rearview mirror.
“I don’t think that happened, though – we’d have heard about it in the papers, right? Okay, yeah, that’s dumb – who reads papers anymore. Maybe on Neighborhood or Reddit… though, come to think about it, what would be the Reddit that would cover this? R-slash-deserted-road-safety?”
The hitchhiker let out a sigh and stared out the passenger window again.
“But seriously, girl, what are you doing out here? Hitchhiking isn’t safe in the daylight. You’re out there in the middle of the night? There was barely a shoulder for me to pull off onto – did you think that through before you started hitchhiking?”
The hitchhiker in the back seat started to rapidly fade from existence.
“Hey, no, no, no, no,” Amanda said, noticing the girl’s increasing translucence, reaching her arm back to steady the girl even as she kept her face forward watching the dark road. Her hand passed right through the hitchhiker’s torso. But the look on the nearly-invisible hitchhiker’s face changed from resigned sadness to shock as a spark of life energy arced from Amanda’s hand, bringing the hitchhiker back into nearly solid coherence. Her mouth formed into a wordless “Huh?” as Amanda snatched her hand back.
“Ow, shit,” she said pressing her fingers to her mouth. “I think I got shocked…”
The hitchhiker stared back and forth in the car, shocked she hadn’t vanished.
“I bet if that woman who ran off the road were in like a Tesla she wouldn’t have drowned – probably electrocuted, right?” Amanda laughed. “I mean, I don’t know if that’s how that works. It’s just like a lot of electricity, you know?”
The hitchhiker reached for the door handle in desperation, but the door didn’t open.
“Oh, yeah, sorry, the child locks are still on from when I had my niece this last weekend. She’s such a doll. I took her to the other lake – the one that’s not creepy and has ducks?” She smiled at the memory. “Did you know you’re not supposed to feed ducks bread anymore? I mean I guess we were never supposed to feed them bread – it’s not good for their little duck stomachs. But who knew? And, if I’m honest, I let Danni – my niece, Danni – feed bread to the ducks. Because, what? Am I a monster?”
The hitchhiker clawed desperately at the door handle, then tried the window with the intention of throwing herself out the window.
“Yeah, same thing – Danni was playing with the window and I told her, ‘Danni, if you put your hand out the window it’s going to go home in another car.’ That’s terrible, isn’t it? I mean that’s what our parents told us, right? But speaking as someone who has had to handle a hand in a baggy of ice that really did go home in another car just the other week in the ER… man, that got dark…” Amanda laughed.
The hitchhiker sat back, resigned to spending the rest of her afterlife in the back seat of this Subaru Forester.
“…They did get the hand attached again. But, you know, I don’t know if they got full functionality… I’m guessing they’re not going to grow up to be a concert pianist or anything.” She laughed as the car drove on through the night, beneath the full moon as the road curved away from the lake and the hitchhiker stared through the back window at the lake, wishing she were under its cold, silvery surface gasping for air.
