A Meeting Of Like Minds

Standing on the shoulder in the fog, a steady drizzle shrouding visibility he pulled the drawstrings on the hood of his parka tighter and stared into the gloom waiting for the right one. His monkey mind jumped from thought to thought searching, restless, wanting.

His right hand reached under the edge of the parka and fondled the cold bone handle of the Bowie knife that nestled in the waistband of his jeans. His mind running over images of the things he would do with the knife. Sweet caresses of gleaming blade on soft, tender flesh ripe for the opening.

He could almost hear the screams, the begging, and the pleading. The eyes shining with raw terror staring into his searching for deliverance, then going blank as the lifeblood flowed from every jagged crevice. It would be sweetness, oh yes.

He snapped to attention as a pair of headlights cut through the gloom. He strained his eyes to see the driver’s face, his thumb twitching. He waited until he could see clear then relaxed his thumb. No, not this one, not this time. There were children in the car. There were rules.

He shifted his weight from one leg to the other and resumed his reverie. Time was on his side. Another hour passed and the gloom deepened. Still he waited and watched. Another car approached. He strained to see a face, his thumb ready to shoot out from his side. No, not this one either, she would not do. The eyes never lied. She looked him over as she passed, her face an open book of question, wondering why he didn’t have his thumb out for a ride.

He did not give her so much as a glance as she passed. He was back in his sweet daydream. He opened his mind to possibility. He imaged sliding into the seat next to the bunny and flashing the disarming smile he had practiced to perfection. Winning their confidence. Putting them at ease. It was important, that. He needed them to feel trust. It made things so much sweeter.


As he rounded a sharp curve he down shifted the baby blue Cadillac he’d hotwired in a parking lot a hundred miles back. He cursed once again under his breath at the gloom, the fog, and the drizzle. The urge was upon him and he would not be denied. Still, he was quite aware that the weather meant the possibility of hitchhikers was diminished. Ah, but fate would see him right. It always did. He need only be patient and vigilant. The right one would appear. His need for fresh meat would be sated soon enough. He kept his eyes on the shoulder, searching for a victim.

He drove on. Ten miles. Twenty. Thirty. There was nothing to be seen. He tried hard to quell the undercurrent of longing that was taking hold in the pit of his stomach. Unscrewing his thermos he took a swig of brandy-laced coffee and enjoyed the soothing warmth in his throat.

Five more miles and he thought he saw a dark, hooded figure in the road a quarter of a mile ahead. Fifty yards more and he was certain. He slowed as he approached. The figure was standing like a statue, his hand hanging still at his side. At last the hand shot out, thumbing for a ride. He slowed to a stop, suppressing the smile that played at his lips.


His eyes strained to make out a face as another pair of headlights appeared. Yes, this was the one. A small niggle at the back of his mind but it was probably just the long wait in the cold gloom.

He reached for door handle and looked in at the driver.

“How far are you going?”



He slid in next to the bunny and flashed his winning smile, feeling the cold bone handle of the knife nestle against his belly.

“Where are you headed?”



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