crazybone (crazybone) wrote in writers_hub,

Fiction:Joyride (crossposted from my journal)

	Gary had been waiting for over an hour, since midnight, on the corner trying to flag down a car.  
It was freezing and, despite it's thickness, the biker jacket wasn't helping.  Eventually, an old blue 
Buick pulled over and came to a stop in front of him.  The driver leaned over and rolled down the window.  
He had small eyes that tilted down at the edges giving a permanent look of sadness to his face.
	"Where you headed," he asked. His voice was sandpaper scraping over a fresh wound.
	"Downtown," Gary said. "City Plaza."  He shivered violently as an arctic gust swept over him.
	"Alright, hop on in."  The sad-faced man pressed a switch which popped the lock.  Gary got in,
hands still shoved in his pockets. He saw the man clearer now. Not much older than he was, late twenties
maybe, with thinning hair. He was wearing a thick black sweatshirt and jeans. The man pulled the car away
from the curb and
accelerated into the sparse traffic. "What are you doing out in this?" The man gestured at the urban icescape surrounding them. Gary shrugged. "No money for a cab." "Not even for a bus?" Gary shook his head. The man whistled through his teeth. "Damn, you must be hard up for cash then." Gary pulled the snub-nosed revolver from his pocket and leveled it at the man's head. "Yeah, well I'm looking to change that." The man glanced at the gun but said nothing. Gary
dropped the pitch of his voice and spoke just above a whisper. This tone he termed his "psycho voice"
because it usually scared the shit out of people when he used it. Sometimes they even screamed. When
he spoke again it was slow and methodical. "Pull over and give me your wallet or I will kill you." Quick and simple just like last time, he thought. The man laughed. The sound was loud, hollow and deep. "Kill me?" The man chuckled and pulled down the left sleeve of his sweater. In the dim green
light of the dashboard Gary could just make out three black slits in his arm. The stitches looked fresh
and the wounds were lengthwise, perpendicular to the wrist. The way you did it when you meant it. "Little bitch," the man chuckled and cracked a smile at him. Every gleaming ivory tapered to a
sharpened point. "You want to kill me? I'll do you one better. I'll do us both." Gary's stomach
twisted into a knot as he heard the car door lock behind him. The man slammed the gas pedal to the floor. The needle sprinted past 100mph and never looked
back. The rev of the engine filled Gary's ears. He pulled the trigger again and again even though he knew it wasn't loaded. This time it was Gary's turn to scream.

Copyright crazybone and all assoicated aliases 2004
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