Hitch

Supernatural Stories | Aug 7, 2013 | 12 min read
8 Votes, average: 4 out of 5
Supernatural Stories

Hitch

Tiarna
Follow
I grew up in a small, isolated country town in Arizona where there was only 211 people, me being the youngest by a fair margin. It was very quiet, seeing as they put up a highway detouring our town 10 years before I was born. From then on, stores along the main street (which was originally part of the highway before the detour) lost business from the absence of tourists. By the time I was beginning to crawl, the drugstore and the bar were the only running businesses. All the other stores couldnt afford to keep running.

With the nearest other town being 95 miles away, everyone struggled. We'd have to ration our food and supplies until more came in on the monthly visit of a supply van from the east. No one in town owned a car except Mr Wells, the sheriff, because he was issued one, but he never drove it unless he had to. They were too expensive.

Well, I turned eighteen in 1942 and when the the van visited two weeks later, there was mail for me. It was from the U.S Army Corp, informing me of the war breaking out in Asia. It was compulsory that I serve my country. The letter Instructed that I had to take the train to the nearest major city in three weeks, where I would be processed and flown to the front. I was excited. I had always wanted to leave the stupid town since I was little and now was my chance. I told my father and mother about my duties. They were happy for me but then they had asked how I was to get to the nearest train station. there wasnt one in our town and there was no one to drive me there. I told them that I had no choice but to walk and thumb my way to the nearest town, which was 95 miles west. Father had laughed at my response.

I was serious about it. So I had started to gather my belongings in a napsack. I decided to leave a week before the processing day. when the dawn of the day arrived, I left my parents house with my things. I walked through the abandoned main street, west down the highway, glad to be leaving the dump. I finally felt independent.

It wasn't long before the last few scattering of houses disappeared behind me. I was travelling west down the old highway until it met the detour. From there I'd continue down the detour to town, walking and maybe hitchhiking. It was open, barren desert everywhere I looked. I had only brought a small bottle of water, some nuts and candy bars with me. Looking back, I was stupid to even think that would last me a week.

I believe I had walked about 10 miles before it started getting dark. I was surprised how quickly it became night. It was so dark I couldn't tell where the sky and ground met. There was no moon or stars out so I walked in the middle of the road, using the faint broken line in the centre as a guide. I didnt have to worry about cars running me over; the road had been closed for nearly 15 years. This wasn't the supply vans route either; the supply van never travelled past our town; he'd turn around and go back the way he came in.
So I nearly jumped out of my skin when I heard a distant rumbling from behind me. I snapped my head up from watching the broken line and turned around. I could barely see the dark road for maybe 20 yards down, then it dissolved into black. The rumbling was getting closer and yes, it was the unmistakable sound of a car.

I soon saw the lights appearing from the dark. I guessed It was probably about a quarter mile away. I couldn't see the car yet but I could easily see the two yellow headlights lighting the road ahead of it. It was travelling very fast, the lights getting closer and closer. They sure must be in a hurry. before I knew it, the car had already travelled most of the distance between us. I quickly contemplated trying to stop the vehicle, see if the driver will give me a ride. He was going awfully fast to notice me but I decided to try, standing on the side of the road with my thumb sticking out. I could make out the car as it sped along the abandoned highway. It was light coloured. it was too small for a van, so it definitely wasnt the supply van on a new route. as it approached where I was, I had almost given up. It was driving way too fast to even see me and stop. But to my surprise, it did. It stopped from an alarming speed the right beside me. it did not slow down at all. It wasnt even possible how quick it stopped. I gave a quick glance at what I could see of the car. it was certainly a light colour; white or cream, I couldn't tell, and it was a station wagon, a new one at that. its large, rounded features stood proudly, with an amazing shine.

I walked over to the drivers side. the windows were too dark to see in. I tapped on the glass. it sounded like it echoed. the driver wound down the window an inch, no more or less. through that space I couldn't see anything at all, just black. a deep, gruff voice spoke from it: "hop in the back. I'll take ya where ya should be." I was too fascinated by the car and the driver to question him, so I headed for the back door behind the driver. Just as I touched the handle the gruff voice snapped at me. "no! not that one. the back."
"You mean the very back?" I asked cautiously. "yes." the driver replied.
Now, any smart man in their right mind would have politely declined the offer and continued on. But I was a stupid one. I also believe I was under some mental influence because I willingly obeyed, opening the back doors of the wagon and sitting myself inside. At the time I didnt feel suspicious or worried. I was too busy thinking about leaving town.

so I sat there in the dark, the bumps of the road calming me. I was grateful I was covering so much distance so quickly. Id be there in no time. I surveyed my surroundings. It was hard to see but I could just make out the outlines some objects: a coil of rope hanging off a hook, some rags in the far corner, and what looked like a small toolbox. the wall where the backseat was had a separator. On further inspection, It was made from glass. There were only two small windows, one on each of the back doors. I shifted closer to the glass separator. I ended up kneeling in something cold and wet, oil I figured. it seeped through my pants. I tried to peek inside the backseat or get a look at the driver. it was just black. I couldnt even see the light from the headlights through the windscreen. I crawled back to the middle of the space, careful to avoid kneeling in that mess again.

I started getting hungry and looked for my napsack. I couldnt see what was on the floor so I felt around, feeling for the fabric and stick. I couldnt find it. I grabbed some rags several times thinking it was my napsack, but sighing when I realised what they were. after a few minutes I gave up, accepting id left it behind on the side of the road or something. But I could not pinpoint the exact time I had put it down, it was always hung over my shoulder.
I started feeling doubtful of hitching a ride in that car. It was strange how id never seen the drivers face and how he didnt want me in the backseat. the more I thought about it, the more worried and aware I became. I started to smell something bad, like spoiled meat. I dont know how long it had been there but subconsciously I knew the bad smell had been there the whole time, right from when the driver wound down his window. I was too distracted to realise.

I crawled to the back door. The car lurched forward, increasing its already rapid speed. I tumbled forward and hit my head against the back door handle. Pain shot through my head like a bolt of lightning. I felt for the handle and turned it. I pushed against the door. It wouldn't open. I tried the other back door, to no avail. I shook both of them hard, trying to get them to open. they wouldnt budge. I felt around for something to use to smash the windows above them. I felt the sharp square contours of the toolbox. I lifted the latch and opened the box just as the car hit a pothole and I went flying, hitting my head again, this time on the roof. I heard the rattle and clatter of tools hitting the floor around me. I felt for something heavy. I felt broken bolts and warped screwdrivers and something sharp cut my finger. then I finally found a large heavy hammer I could use. I headed over to the back windows and lifted my arm back to smash them. a sudden thought came to me: jumping out will kill you. I groaned in frustration. If I had broken the windows and opened the doors from the outside, I would die from the impact of the road. We were speeding like a bat out of hell.

Thats when another idea came to me. when I had hit my head on the roof I had hit the corner of something. I searched blindly until I found it again. I felt around the edges of it for the switch and flicked it. Yellow light flooded the space. My first thought was how wrong I was about the oil spill. in its place, actually splattered all over the walls and floor was blood. The rope coil that was hanging was soaked crimson. there were also no tools scattered like I expected there to be. instead there were bones. there were ones the size of bolts and ones that looked like screwdrivers. I looked in my hand and shrieked. what I had first thought of as a hammer was in reality a large, thick bone. it didnt take a scientist to tell it was human. horrified of the scene I looked at the glass separator. I still couldnt see inside no matter how close or far away I was. thats when I assumed it was tinted. or double-sided. which meant the mystery driver could have been watching me the entire time. I instinctively reached for the large bone again and without a moments hesitation, slammed it into the glass separator. It cracked on the first hit, splintered on the second and partly shattered on the third. I worked quickly, smashing a hole big enough for me to fit through. light flooded into the backseat and reflected off of pools of blood and meat. as soon as the hole was big enough, I dived head first into the back seat. bashing and flailing my arms out in front of me. I was only half in the back seat but continued bashing ahead of me. blood was soaking through my clothes. it wasnt light enough to see much but I remember seeing the red ember of a lit cigarette floating in the drivers seat and the windscreen with the lights on the road. I heard that gruff voice one last time with its chilling words: "We were almost there. Next time ya comin, next time." I stabbed at the driver with the bone and hit only the seat. to my shock there was no one at the wheel. the car continued to speed along at an incredible speed. panicking, I crawled all the way into the back seat over the blood and flesh and struggled into the drivers seat. it was still on the road, following the white broken line. The speedometer needle was hugging the very end of the right side. I looked down as my foot hit something hard. there was half a cinder block, carefully placed on the accelerator pedal, holding it down to the floor. I leant down and reached past the steering wheel and pushed the cinder block away. the car started slowing and nearly spun out as I knocked the steering wheel out of place. After straightening it out, I slammed on the brakes. the car slowed even more hurriedly. The lights bobbed as the car came to a halt. I turned the engine off but left the headlights on.

My heart was beating in my throat and I was on the verge of hyperventilating. I opened the drivers door and got out. I looked ahead of me and started shaking uncontrollably. the lights coninued for another 4 feet then stopped in a jagged line, bordering something vast, black and empty. I edged towards the void, my instincts telling me to turn around and walk back. but curiosity and determination overpowered me. my instincts were trying to protect my sanity.
There was no road beyond the point. as I gazed down into the canyon before me I stumbled and nearly fell in. regaining my balance I promptly lurched back to the car bonnet for support, terrified. my head was throbbing. I leant over the the bonnet, head in hands. I was gasping hoarsely, crying in both relief and horror. There was something else down there and I could feel its presence. It intimidated me.

I was so close to my demise. 4 feet close. I would have plunged to my death down that canyon. I also dont think I would have just died either. Im certain the depths of hell were down there as well.

I had got back into the car with the hacked bodies and turned around and drove back down the highway to home. The smell was almost unbearable. I was dry-retching and my eyes watered but I refused to look into the backseat, keeping my eyes glued to the road. when I arrived into town I parked the car behind Mr Wells' pickup and hammered my fists on his front door. His angered face from being waken at 2 in the morning soon fell when I explained my story. His wife appeared by his side wearing rollers in her hair and asked me to come inside. She made me a coffee and we waited in the kitchen while Mr Wells got dressed. He went outside in his sheriff uniform. He was only gone a short time before he returned, a puzzled look plastered to his face.

He asked me where I had parked the damn car. I told him it was just outside, parked behind his pickup. He said there wasn't anything out there. I jumped from my seat and ran out the front door. I gaped at the absence of the wagon. there was just mr Wells pickup truck in the driveway. I walked out onto the sidewalk and searched up and down the street. there was no sign of it. I told him I had arrived in the car and now it was gone. He looked at me sypathetically and said he never heard a car engine. His wife agreed with him. I started yelling at them, maintaining that I had indeed arrived in the car and that it had butchered bodies in it. I looked down at my clothes, and told him I had blood stains on them. I went back inside to a light source ready to show him the dark stains on them. I held my sleeves under the light and gasped.There was not a drop of blood on them. They were clean and crisp. I checked my knee where I'd kneeled in a puddle of the stuff. There was nothing there either. I dont know when they had decided to disappear along with the wagon.
I returned outside and Mr Wells offered me a ride to my parents house. I rudely declined and started walking myself, feeling defeated. There was no way I was letting anyone drive me anywhere ever again.

When I was confronted by people in the street asking about what I had been doing at mr Wells' Home at 2 in the morning. I simply said I was drunk and couldnt remember. There was no use explaining something that sounded so crazy.

I never ended up going to war. I wouldn't go near a car for another 5 months, so I was excused on account of having,
"Pre-war Mental Trauma".

I have been plagued by the memories of the night I hitchhiked ever since. I left that town several years later to live in the city, where i have stayed since. Even now at 68 years old I often have nightmares depicting the blood and bones in the back of the wagon. I drive myself everywhere. I never let anyone, even those I love and care, drive me. I do not take public transport (unless I drive it) and of course that was the first and last time I hitchhiked.

Yesterday I visited the public library to look at the newspaper archives of my town from 1927. After painstakingly searching I found part of what I had wanted: 'Broken Bridge Closes Highway For Good'.
the highway that had been detoured had actually held a large canyon that crossed straight through it. In the late 1800s a two car bridge had been erected over the canyon. Years later they turned it into a highway.
the bridge was considered dangerous because it was built with cheap wood supports and that was one of the reasons they detoured it. Then as they had predicted, the bridge fell sometime in march that year, due to wood rot. There was only the ends of the bridge, still attached to either side of the canyon, so they pulled it all down and closed the highway for good.

there was also another article printed in 1967, 25 years after the night I was nearly killed, titled: "Shocking Discovery in Old-Time Highway Canyon", which informed of a discovery of several vehicles at the bottom of the canyon. They contained bodies in the very back, in different stages of decomposition. all of them had died from massive trauma and internal bleeding. it was found that the accelorators in every vehicle had scratch marks which coincided with the half cinderblocks found in each cabin. there was never anyone else in the the driver, passenger or backseats, only the very back. the authorities concluded that they were some sort of suicide pact and closed the case. I was appalled at their ignorance to something that could still be continuing to happen.

What made the blood run cold was the report that every vehicle recovered was the exact identical make, year, model and colour (which was, unsurprisingly, cream). They also said it was an unusual class of car: They were all hearses.

Tags:

   Mystery Beauty
Report This Story 
Notice (8): Undefined index: User [APP/View/stories/story.ctp, line 227]
Notice (8): Trying to access array offset on value of type null [APP/View/stories/story.ctp, line 227]

Recommendations

Recommendations

Reviews

Xavier vassel Aug 7, 2013

Loved your story, from the beginning to the end it had me interested. Never a dull moment! Good job!!!

Download the Short Story Lovers App

Read and write stories anytime, anywhere with the Short Story Lovers app

"Short n Scary Stories"

is a throng of rare and

true horror stories of witches, zombies, monsters and unidentified spirits

around us. Here you can share your paranormal experiences and read world's best haunted stories to thrill your imagination.

BE A SHARER
STORIES
WHAT'S NEW
MORE INFO