Stranger
by Amber Averay
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I regretted stopping the car almost immediately. He smiled politely, edged with something unidentifiable, and slid into the passenger seat and was buckled into his belt before I could change my mind. It was a strange thing to think, but he seemed so practised at it, pouring himself into a car the moment it paused beside him lest the driver have second thoughts.
You’re being foolish, I admonished, determining to keep my smile in place and doubts buried deep. I’d driven this expanse of nothing many times these last few years, and had pitied those who were wedged to the side of the road with smoke pouring from their engines, or struck with blown tyres, or who in the rare wet seasons were sucked into the bog and needed emergency towing. It was such a lonely stretch of the country, hours between towns and not much of anything to offer help. Being a woman in her early thirties I’d always felt guilty for not stopping to help, and relieved that I’d driven past. Yet this man – apparently older, apparently frail, stumbling on unsteady feet and looking utterly lost – had tugged at my heartstrings, and my usually infallible intuition had me pulling over to offer a ride.
In the first seconds of him getting into my car I felt uneasy, as if I’d somehow been tricked and made a big mistake. Yet I sensed that to reveal discomfort would be almost as big a blunder as offering him a lift, though could not fathom why my instincts were spasmodically twitching and jerking.
I flicked the indicator to alert that I was about to return to the road, and when we were on our way I said to him, ‘This is a long way from anywhere – are you ok? Would you like anything? I have bottled water in the back, and some fruit – I think I’ve even got wet wipes if you’d like to shift some of the dust from the road?’
He gave me that unsettling smile again, and I repressed the shudder itching to rattle my body. Catching his eye, I realised one reason for my inquietude: he was hardly as old as I’d thought. Despite the dust clogging his pores and sweat cutting runnels in the dirt on his face, this man was much younger than I’d thought – than he’d led me to believe. I couldn’t say how I knew for certain, but he seemed to enjoy the facade, for his red-ringed pale blue eyes sparkled with life and vitality and threat.
When he spoke, his voice was quite youthful, his manner much less that of the older gentleman who’d been stumbling along the roadside. ‘Thank you, water would be perfect. It’s so dry out there, I feel my mouth is all tongue.’ The chuckle that followed was bright, yet sinister undertones darkened it and goosebumps fought to riddle my flesh.
I groped behind my seat until my fingers closed on a chill bottle, and with slow, natural movements I handed it to him. ‘My name’s Xanthe, by the way.’
‘Zannnn-theeeee.’ He turned the word in his mouth, almost relishing it as if it were a fine wine he wanted to savour. ‘That’s a pretty name. It suits you. You’re a pretty girl.’
I was too old for such compliments to turn my head, yet the flush staining my cheeks could be mistaken for demure appreciation. I felt he expected a response, so said, ‘Thank you. That’s very kind of you to say. How are you feeling? And if I’m not prying, where can I take you?’
‘Where are you going?’
‘Visiting my parents. They’re in their eighties and while they’re still young at heart, I worry about them.’
‘Young inside but the outside tends to disagree?’
‘Exactly.’ Why was I telling him this? Was it to try and hide my discomfort, or…I had no other thoughts. I was scared, and didn’t want him to know. ‘I was a later-life baby, and they made sure I never went without the necessities – I can’t bear to think of them struggling now. So I try to see them as often as possible.’
‘They won’t go into a home, or live with you?’
I shrugged. ‘I have asked, begged, pleaded – I even threatened but they laughed in my face. Neither wants to leave their home, and they refused to have me move in with them. So we agreed they would have someone go to them mornings, afternoons, and evenings, to make sure they’re ok, they have an emergency call button in case of falls or…or issues, and I get to them as much as I can. Work is pretty good, they let me do a lot of it from off site if I need to go to see my parents.’
He studied me intently for a long time, and I focussed on the road – that endless ribbon of shimmering black stretching before and behind, beyond the horizon and into eternity. His scrutiny was unwavering, unsettling, but I pretended it wasn’t, and at last he said, ‘They are lucky to have you for a daughter. Many wouldn’t bother themselves, having their own lives to deal with.’
‘They’re my parents,’ I said simply, flashing him a brief smile. His eyes chilled me to the bone. ‘I wouldn’t have a life if not for them. I mean, I’m not judging those who don’t or can’t do what I do for their parents – everyone’s stories are different. I’m just lucky, and in a position where I can do things for them.’
‘But you want to help them, too. It’s not forced, or begrudged. Not many people like you left.’
‘I’d like to think there are.’
‘There aren’t,’ he growled, thick fingers tightening to fists. Fear spiked, but he relaxed his hands and offered me a strange smile. ‘Sorry. I’ve just seen it a lot. Too many don’t care. Put themselves first. But you are a kind soul. You picked up a stranger on the road, on a lonely stretch of land, you care for your parents. You’re a rare one.’ He held out one of those large hands that had so recently been tightly clenched – which could be a fearsome weapon, should he so choose – and I shook it firmly. ‘Benedict – Benny.’
‘Pleasure to meet you.’
We continued to chat until I spotted a service station in the distance. The gas tank was showing dangerously low, and we pulled in next to one of the bowsers. Climbing out of the car, hoping he would vanish while I was inside paying, I said needlessly, ‘I need gas, but I also feel like something hot. Do you want a coffee, or burger, or pie or something? My shout.’
He looked at me oddly, and accepted the offer of a burger. When I returned to the car he was still there, and we were on our way again. ‘Why did you buy me a burger and coffee?’ he abruptly asked, more curious than angry.
‘As a thank you for your company.’ With everything I had I hoped he would not take insult to anything I said – he radiated controlled fury, hatred, danger. Had the old woman at the gas station been capable of understanding me I would have asked her to call the police, but if I’d spent too long inside he might have become suspicious. ‘This is a long lonely drive, so it’s been nice having someone to talk to this time.’
I pretended not to notice him studying me again, pretended it didn’t fill me with terror, pretended I’d not noticed his wild steel grey hair was a wig or that his facial hair was glued on. Why would a young man need to disguise himself as someone he was not? Who was sitting beside me?
When at last we drove to the outskirts of the town where my parents lived, he asked for pen and paper which I had in the glove box. I didn’t ask what he wrote, but tried to limit the jostling of the bumpy surface to make it easier for him.
I stopped at a supermarket, the carpark relatively full and people everywhere. ‘I have to get some things for Ma and Daddy,’ I said, unclipping my seatbelt. ‘Can I get you anything? I won’t be long, then I can take you wherever you need to go.’
‘Thank you, no. I’ll just wait here,’ Benny replied.
When I’d finished shopping I peeked through the glass windows, contemplating calling someone for help and yet wondering what I could say – he seemed strange? Could you call the police on someone who had been nothing but polite, odd as he was?
Yet the car seemed empty. I eyed it warily as I drew nearer, glancing about the carpark for Benny in case he’d stepped out for a cigarette or something. But he was nowhere to be seen.
I loaded the boot, deposited the trolley in the trolley bay, and slipped into the driver’s seat. The ghost of Benny’s strangeness lingered, yet already I felt lighter, freer.
A folded piece of paper was on the seat Benny had vacated. I plucked it up, flicked it open, and felt my blood turn to ice:
Xanthe,
Thank you for the lift. But a word of warning – NEVER pick up hitchhikers. I had been planning to rape and kill you and steal your car, but you were so nice to me I changed my mind. You might not be so lucky next time.
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