An Unlikely Friend
Jennifer M Haynes

 

The sky was blood red, the wind was blowing. I had just finished with my last job, and it was time to get away. A black car sat at the side of the road next to me, reminding me of who had once owned it. That person was now dead. Just like everyone will be soon enough.

I stuck out my thumb to a passing car, but it didn't even slow. That didn't surprise me any, although I took careful precautions to make sure I looked presentable. My last murder was not too bloody, and I stole the clothes off the man's body. Perhaps that made me look suspicious, standing at the side of the road in a three piece suit and a tie, holding my black sack. But with the car nearby, I had thought it would make me look less suspicious. Nothing but a poor man who got in a wreck on the way home from work.

While waiting for another passing car, I opened my sack and took a peek inside. Within it, a hand and an ear, obviously human, shone in the disappearing light of the sun. They were pale, since I had let the blood drain, and I wondered if woods animals would be licking up that blood now. I felt sorry for the man, but there was no river to throw him in. I had to leave him at the mercy of the forest.

Two days ago, I had a job interview. I had all the credentials, a perfect record, and a man named Mr. Tobarr wouldn't hire me, just because I had a little gray hair. At least, that's what I believe the problem was. I followed Mr. Tobarr home that night, and watch his house. Then it suddenly struck me that he was to be my next victim. Even though Mr. Tobarr was a large man, I had been killing for fifteen years; I wasn't worried in the least.

Mr. Tobarr was on his way home from work, and he left at an unusual hour. For some reason the man decided every day to take the scenic way home, I guess to avoid traffic, unfortunately for him. I put tacks on the road, and waited for him to come. When his tires went flat, he veered off the road and hit a tree, and there wasn't a car in sight. I went to the car, dragged him out while he was unconcious, and waited for him to awaken. When he did, well, you know the rest.

So I took the ear and hand as a token of remembrance. I figure, if I've got to kill someone, I may as well remember them, to show them a little respect. It's kinda sad to be dead and forgotten. And I didn't wish that on any of my victims, no matter how angry they made me. I believe God may show me some mercy for that.

Suddenly, off in the distance, I heard the rumble of an engine. I tried to look distinguished as I held out my thumb once again, and a huge pickup truck zoomed past me. No luck. Guess I'd be stuck out there for a while.

After realizing that perhaps no one was going to pick me up, I decided I'd have to go back to Mr. Tobarr's body and steal his car keys. That wasn't too big of a deal. I knew where I had left him. Hell, maybe I'd have time to give the man a proper burial. That would be a first. Couldn't get those clothes dirty.

So I walked back to where I had left Mr. Tobarr. There he lay, naked and bloody, and beside his head where the missing ear should have been, sat his car keys. I was actually surprised I hadn't thrown them further away. Perhaps I was starting to get a bit sloppy in my killings. Maybe I'd have to give it up soon.

I picked up the keys and looked through them. They were all covered in blood, and I tried to wipe them off on my old clothes, but they were sort of sticky. I looked down at Mr. Tobarr. The poor guy. If he just would have hired me, he wouldn't be lying out in the woods, covered in leaves in his murderer's only show of deceny. Oh well. He'd get over it. So would I.

I carried the keys back to the road, and it was now dark outside. The red color had faded and was replaced by a sky filled with clouds. It was probably going to rain. No way was I going to be stuck out in the rain. So, I walked over to the car and put a key in the door. Wrong one. I tried another. Still not right. But then, again, I heard the rumbling of an engine, and I decided to try hitchhiking one more time. I put my thumb out and waited.

This time, once I was in view, a pickup truck slowed down and stopped a couple feet ahead of me. I ran to the door. It was starting to rain a little bit. The man rolled down his window.

"Lookin' for a ride?" he asked with a Southern drawl.

"Yes, I am," I said, trying to sound professional.

"Well, git on in here then, no good bein' out in the rain and such. Don't forgit yur bag over there."

"Oh, right." I ran over and picked up my souvenier bag then ran back and opened the door. "Thank you so much. I was afraid I'd be out there all night."

"Where ya headin'?"

"Oh, out of state. Anywhere will do."

"Awright then. Mind a little country music?"

"No, not at all," I said, lying.

We sat in silence for a very long time. I figured we didn't have anything in common. The man was probably so stupid he wouldn't have understood me anyhow.

It was now pouring rain, and in the light of the headlights, I could see the drops falling. Mr. Tobarr would be getting himself a nice little bath, and all the evidence of my doing it would be washed away. Another perfect murder. Then I felt the sudden urge to confide in this man who was driving. I felt he would understand. I don't know why.

"I just got through killing someone," I said to the man, expecting a look of shocked disbelief.

"Really?" he said. "Me too."

"No, I mean it. I killed someone."

"Well, I didn't kill no person, but I did kill. It's fun, ain't it?"

"What?" I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

"Yeah, look in the back of the truck. Ain't it a beauty?"

Tied down by rope in the bed of the pickup truck was the carcass of a horse. I didn't think that compared to being the body of a person, but, a horse is certainly better than nothing.

"So, you kill horses?"

"Yep. Cost them damn farmers a fortune. I only kill the good ones."

"Well, I kill people. Isn't that worse?"

"Oh yeah, of course it is. But you don't scare me none. By the way, name's Bill, Bill Traycer."

"My name is Saul Piker. Good to meet you."

The man laughed. "Good ain't exactly the word I was thinkin', but if it's good to you, I guess it's good to me too."

"I've never met anyone who liked killing before."

"Well, I just do it so's I can get more money when I sell my horses. Why do you do it?"

"Oh, I think people are worthless, to be completely honest with you. Would you like to see in my souvenier bag?"

"Nah, think I'll pass," Bill said. "I don't think I could handle that. Oh, here's a good song." Bill turned the radio up a little louder, and I assumed the conversation was over.

It was strange. I seemed to feel some sort of bond with Bill. At first, I figured I was going to have to kill him, but is it really right for a man to kill one of his own kind? I don't believe so. That would be blasphemy in the eyes of God. I only kill the inferiors, and even though this man was a country-boy, he understood something that other people didn't.

"How long you been killin'?" Bill asked me.

"Oh, fifteen years or so. What about you?"

"About thirty-four." Oh my goodness, he was a killing god!

"Wow, thirty-four years. I envy your intelligence."

"My what? I don't know that I have that. I just know how to kill horses."

"Do you know people are stupid?" I was determined not to let the lack of intelligence of the man ruin my reverence of him.

"Why, of course they are. Ain't never seen a good smart one, a'sides from you of course. Open that there glove compartment. I got somethin' you might like to keep."

I opened it, almost expecting a wild rabbit or something to leap out, but what was there was a very well made Swiss army knife. "What's this for?"

"When you kill someone, carve my initials in 'em, will ya? I've never really had a friend before."

I thought about it. If I carved his initials into the bodies, I would never be thought of as a suspect. If they traced the murders back to anyone, it would be him. How useful. I would accept.

"Thank you so much, I will do that, in honor of our friendship." "Friendship" was in quotation marks in my mind. "Here will be a good place for me to get out."

"Well, I'm sad to see you go," Bill said. "Shake my hand, we're friends now."

I shook his hand. "Yeah, 'friends,'" I said.

As Bill drove off, he rolled down his window again. "Don't forgit about carving my initials in the bodies!"

"Don't worry," I yelled. "I won't forget. I promise, 'Friend!'"

Friend. I had never understood that word until this moment. Bill was definitely my "friend."

 

 

Copyright © 1999 Jennifer M Haynes
Published on the World Wide Web by "www.storymania.com"