Hitchers

by Douglas, P. A.

  He aimed it at the rider, his palms sweating, his hands shaking uncontrollably. He’d never shot anything before.

  The thing lifted its right arm, its teeth chattering with excitement. The black slime that seeped from its meaty tip reminded Greg of the chemical burns on his legs and the fact that he wasn’t wearing any pants. He couldn’t afford to let that slime get on him.

  When the gun went off, Greg wasn’t even sure what was happening. He didn’t even realize that he’d pulled the trigger. The pistol jarred his senses, his hands stinging to life. He watched as the shot went wide and to the right. The wall splintered into a cloud of drywall dust. The loud report startled him and made him squeeze the trigger again. The creature didn’t even flinch, but Greg did. Having never handled a gun before, the pistol fell from his grip, hitting the floor at his feet. The impact when it collided with the cold wooden floor made it fire the next round automatically on impact.

  Greg watched in horror as the bullet hit Brian in the chest. His already bloodstained shirt erupted into a single spray of red fireworks. Brian didn’t even scream, didn’t even squint at the pain, as if he hadn’t even been shot at all. The creature on his shoulders forced him forward anyway.

  The creature pointed its free arm at Greg. Like a high pressure water hose, black goop shot out. Greg jumped to the side, still in shock. Brian should have gone down. He took that shot in the chest and blood was still pooling around the wound. He was already starting to look pale too.

  The black acidic chemical splashed against the canned food and spices on one of the shelves. The plastic bags and containers smoked among the black slime. Greg turned back looking at the shelf of spices. His eyes went wide at seeing the contents on the shelf melting. That was almost him.

  The creature raised its arm taking aim at Greg.

  Greg looked down.

  The gun.

  He picked it up, aimed at Brian’s head and found the confidence he needed. He clutched his gaze tight and steadied his aim. Ready for the recoil this time, he pulled the trigger, not once, but three times. His palm stung as he lay on the ground with his eyes shut. Listening in the darkness, he waited. He heard the shuffle of dead weight drop to the ground. Fearing the worse, he opened his eyes.

  Brian was on the floor near the still opened cellar door. He waited for a moment, half expecting him to get back up. In the movies, they always did, but nothing happened.

  Greg got up, pistol still in hand, kicked the fallen pots out of his way and found himself standing over Brian’s unmoving body. The creature was nowhere to be seen. Or unseen rather. Greg couldn’t believe it. All three shots were a direct hit, which was crazy since he had taken the shots with his eyes closed. Brian’s face was a bleeding pile of mess. The three holes in his face seeped crimson. The hole in his chest did the same.

  Greg dropped the gun, his knees starting to buckle. He’d never killed any living thing in all his life. It was an accident. Self-defense. Leaning against the large stove, Greg vomited. When he thought he was finally done, he looked at Brian again and the feeling returned. The recoil from dry heaves was painful.

  After he was finally done, not feeling right around an unmoving corpse, he picked up the gun and stepped out of the kitchen into the actual restaurant. The red and blue lights that flashed in the window from outside made Greg’s heart drop down into his stomach.

  It was the five’o.

  Chapter 14

  Greg Teeter’s stomach tightened as he watched the patrol car stop in the Chinese restaurant’s parking lot. He used his left hand to push the blinds back on the window. The pistol was clutched tightly in his right. Red and blue specters from the patrol car’s light bar cascaded over the gravel of the vacant parking lot. The sky was clear and the moon in full tilt.

  The man in blue stepped out of the car and headed toward the restaurant. Greg recognized him. It was Teddy. The kid’s blond mustache was visible even in near darkness. At first, the feeling of horror, dread, and fear subsided making his stomach feel a little less tense. Teddy was a good guy. He would listen. Understand that what happened in the kitchen was out of self-defense. Then his heart raced again. The vision flashed in his head. Teddy was one of them. One of the people going to kill Peggy Ann. How could he kill his own sister? What was there to gain from taking her life? From taking anyone’s life?

  The Hitcher on Teddy’s shoulders appeared just as he reached the front door of the restaurant. The sense of dread twisted Greg’s stomach back into knots.

  Just as Greg was about to pull away from the window, another car pulled up. He had never seen the woman who climbed out. As she closed the door, tossing a purse over her shoulder, Greg couldn’t help but think about the fact that Doc and a few others had mentioned that hardly anyone drove cars around here. That didn’t quite add up. With that thought, came another; his cell phone. Maybe Doc had lied to him and it really would work. Just as he thought to reach in his pocket to pull it out, the fact that he wasn’t wearing pants came to the surface once more.

  His phone. The bottle of pills. He didn’t have either of them. He must have left them down in the cellar when he was looking at the book. Brian coming in and pulling a gun caused him to forget about…

  “Oh, my God, Brian. He’s dead and I killed him,” Greg breathed, his hands shaking.

  The doorknob on the front door started to turn. Greg heard keys rattling on the other side. He went back to the window. The gray haired woman had a set of keys and was unlocking the building. From what he could see, she owned the restaurant. As much as Greg wasn’t racist in any way, the fact that she was some type of oriental only suggested that she owned the place. The fact that she had a key helped his assumption.

  “I’m tellin’ you, Teddy. I heard people inside. A lot of racket coming from the kitchen.”

  “Don’t worry, Ms. Chan. I’m glad you called me.”

  “Thanks for comin’ by so fast,” she said.

  “Just doin’ my job. Just stay out here in the parking lot. I’m gonna go in and check things out,” Teddy’s muffled voice said from outside. “I’ll be right back, okay?”

  The woman nodded and the front door swung open after she unlocked it. Greg stepped back from the door feeling the grip of fear grab hold. He didn’t know what was going to happen. He bumped into the register by the door. After making contact with his elbow, a bowl of fortune cookies fell from the shelf. When he stepped back, they crunched under his foot.

  “Teddy, man, listen, I can explain,” Greg pleaded, both arms in the air, pistol still in hand.

  “Jesus Christ,” Teddy said, stepping through the door, his right hand hugging his empty holster. “What the hell are you doing in here, Greg?”

  “Look, man, I can explain,” Greg said, still taking backward steps, the hitcher on Teddy’s

  shoulders glaring down at him.

  There was no way he could reason with Teddy with that thing riding on his back. Teddy stepped all the way into the restaurant and Greg couldn’t help but watch and wait for the young cop to pull his gun. He was still favoring his hip with his right hand. The thing on his shoulders snarled at Greg. Its teeth chattered vigorously in a permanent mischievous grin. Its eyes glared down at Greg, reminding him of the black slime. The Hitcher’s eyes were blacker than black. Chills ran down his spine causing his knees to shake. Teddy closed the distance between them.

  “Greg, what happened? What are you doing in…”

  “What’s goin’ on in there?” The woman insisted, cutting Teddy off.

  Greg could see her poking her head in the doorway to get a better look. Her gray hair and yellow dotted dress shone in the moonlight spilling through the open doorway.

  “Watch out!” She yelled. “He’s got a gun, Teddy!”

  “I see that, Ms. Chan. Now, please, step back outside.” Teddy said, turning to look back at her for only a moment.

  In the single instant he turned to face her, Greg heard the unmistakable sound. Teddy’s hands went limp at his
sides and the thing on his back took control. Black slime splashed across Teddy’s face. Greg couldn’t see, because the young cop’s back was turned, but he imagined his eyes were rolled back and his mouth wide.

  The creature wasted no time at all. Within the mere moment of taking control, its free hand went high shooting black pus all over Ms. Chan. She screamed out in brutal agony. All that Greg could do was watch. Even with the pistol in hand, he wasn’t prepared to fire at the young policeman. Let alone while his back was turned.

  The black sludge kept coming out from the monster’s right arm. In moments, goo covered the woman’s face. It ran down her face onto her chest and shoulders. With the creature still spraying her down, she fell to her knees crying bloody murder. Her skin melted like loose watery paint. Reaching up with her hands to wipe away the slime, she only aided in the growing painful death. Her hands came away covered in the toxic chemical. Skin peeled to the meat and muscle. The muscles sizzled like a crimson pot of boiling and sinew. Her bones crackled and popped in protest, the black slime eating away at the cartilage and white fibers in her face and hands. Her eyes burst from their sockets, a gore filled splash of grime that landed at Teddy’s feet. Then she was no more. She fell limp to the ground, her feet still sticking through the doorway outside.

  Teddy fell to his knees in front of the heaping pile of pasty meat and black muck. The creature feasted. With its one free limb, the maggoty tip helped force the sludge into its monstrous gullet. As it gorged its self with the dead woman slop, Greg felt bile rise in his throat. The stench of death was too great. Had he ever wanted to know what all those people smelled like in the hack and slash movies that he loved so much, he knew now. It was unbearable. He felt something warm and wet running down his leg. He looked down to see the yellow liquid soaking through his purple boxers.

  The slurping grunts of an eager feast filled his ears, drawing his attention back to Teddy. The young cop’s back was still turned. If he was going to make a run for it, it was now or never. Unlike running into the Sheriff and Doc in the backyard of that house, his legs didn’t rebel. When he turned, willing them to run, they did just that. No longer paralyzed by the putrid appearance of the monster controlling his friend, he could already feel himself becoming desensitized. As much as he wasn’t sure how that could be a good thing, he was glad. Pushing back his fears and taking charge needed to happen. As he made it back into the kitchen, his eyes meeting Brian’s bullet filled body, he decided right then and there.

  No more running.

  When he stared down at Brian’s corpse, the nausea did not resurface. He fought it back. And finally, for the first time since escaping the clinic, confidence took its place. He could hear Teddy and that thing shuffling through the restaurant toward the kitchen. It didn’t matter. Something was going to happen, one way or the other. Who was Greg kidding? He was a man and men didn’t run. He was in a punk band for crying out loud. Some of his favorite groups were hardcore. He was hardcore. The grotesque images on his Impending Doom shirt were just as sickly as the things he’d been facing ever since the accident last night. He took a heavy breath and when he released it, his fears were momentarily pushed aside.

  “Quit being a pussy,” Greg told himself, gripping the gun with poise.

  With pistol in hand, he ejected the clip, hoping to count the rounds, but couldn’t. He slammed it home. The click it made only fueled his sudden boost in assurance. Although he’d read some of that book, he still didn’t know exactly what he was dealing with, and running would only get him killed. He turned around, cocked the pistol and raised it at the ready.

  His timing couldn’t have been any more perfect, because the double doors to the kitchen swung open. Teddy and the Hitcher forcing him forward shuffled through.

  “Look, Teddy!” Greg shouted, pointing the gun. “I don’t want to shoot you, but you’ve got to wake up, man!”

  Teddy didn’t respond and the creature on his back only grew more agitated. Its chattering teeth grew louder as it closed the distance.

  Greg fired. The shot went high, but intentional. Like the rock that he had thrown earlier in the night, the bullet crashed into the wall behind the phantom-like ghoul. Irritated, but not at all surprised, he fired two more times just over Teddy’s head. It didn’t do a damn thing and the creature was only getting closer. It raised its free arm to splash Greg with slime.

  He fired again, only not at the creature. The shot hit Teddy in the upper leg. His leg jerked a little upon taking the hit, but other than that, he didn’t flinch, move or scream. He was entranced.

  Fuck, I don’t want to kill you, man.

  Greg adjusted his aim. A head shot. There wasn’t anything else. Teddy was a good kid and a really nice guy. A little high strung, but genuine. Greg clutched the gun with both hands, dazed by what was happening. None of this could be real. It was a dream. A nightmare.

  He pulled the trigger.

  It clicked empty.

  Stunned, Greg looked down at the gun in disbelief.

  From across the kitchen, the creature reared back, its long thin arm lashed out and slapped the gun from Greg’s grip. The swing was so fierce that it sent Greg flying back on his ass. Tripping on the pots and pans, Greg’s head slammed into the shelf of spices. Sugar, salt, and other canned foods crashed to the floor. Shaking all of it off, he scooted back trying to sit up. Another tub of iodized salt fell from the shelf as he settled against it. It dropped on his head hard, the contents spilling out everywhere.

  Greg looked up, fear and the inevitable returning. He was cornered, unarmed, and losing his mind. Creatures from another realm, really?

  The creature lashed out again with its free arm. It slapped him hard across the face. The slick limb recoiled and Greg watched in awe as it hissed in pain. Its arm. The creature’s arm started to dry out. He watched in amazement as its arm started to wither. Teddy stepped back.

  The salt. It was the salt!

  When Greg wasn’t more than ten years old, he remembered hanging out with the neighborhood kids. They raised all kind of havoc on the bugs and little crawling critters. One of his favorite things to do was pull out the magnifying glass on an ant hill. It was awesome to sit back and watch the ants scurry in fear on the ant mound. But that was nothing. The snails. Now that was something. His older cousin Clay had shown him that one. He would have never thought it would have dried them out like that, and then it hit him. The gray slime-like creature was the same consistency as the snails and the salt caused it to react just the same.

  Dry them out. That’s it!

  Black pus started to seep out from the creature’s withering arm. It cried out, snarling at Greg with hatred. It hissed a guttural moan of agitation and hunger. Its breath was rank like bile and death.

  “Fuck you!” Greg yelled, taking a fist full of the salt and tossing it at the creature.

  Much like the late Ms. Chan, its skin sizzled and popped. Only its skin didn’t start melting. It did the opposite. It began to dry and crack, growing brittle and flaky. Its eyes started to sink into its withering head. No longer black like the endless abyss, they grew washed out and white. Its grip on Teddy started to weaken, its left arm slipped from his slime covered head. It was working.

  Greg found his footing. Standing to his feet with a pile of salt in both hands, he grinned.

  “Bring it on, bitch!”

  The creature lashed out in a weak attempt to splash Greg with acidic goo. What came out wasn’t enough. It wasn’t even black. It was clear and grimy like the saliva of a child with the flu. Not even splashing out from its maggoty tip, the plasma dripped out like a leaky mucous.

  Simultaneously, Greg let both handfuls of salt loose. It splashed the creature covering its obese frame.

  It fell from Teddy’s shoulders and began convulsing on the floor in pain. Half expecting it to dissolve into nothingness, Greg was surprised when its large mass was reduced to a much smaller resemblance of its former self. The smell of formaldehyde and sulfur fille
d the air.

  When the adrenaline finally settled, Greg was happy to look up and see Teddy coming to. Teddy fell to his knees, weak and disoriented. Greg fell to his knees too, embracing his new best friend.

  “We did it, Teddy!”

  “We, w-w-what?” Teddy groaned, looking a little light headed. “What the hell happened? Where are we?”

  “It’s the salt, man. Don’t you see, we can defeat this thing? It’s the salt. We just need to get more salt!”

  “Greg, please, stop with the shouting,” Teddy said, rubbing his throbbing head. “My brain feels like a pile of bugs were in there, eating away at everything.”

  “You can say that again,” Greg proclaimed with excitement. “We did it, man.”

  “Calm down, Greg. You’re not making any sense. We just need to…” Teddy froze, fear gripping his confused expression. “Holy crap. It’s Brian. He’s been shot.” Teddy instantly pulled his attention from Greg to the dead man on the floor beside them. “What the hell happened in here, Greg?”

  “Dude, I know what you’re thinking, but listen to me.”

  “Greg, what the hell did you do?” Teddy insisted, standing to his feet, pulling away from Greg. The pressure from standing made blood spurt from the bullet wound on his leg. “Ahhh! I’ve been shot!”

  “Look, man. I had to. You were going to kill me.”

  “Oh, dear God. You killed this man and shot me!”

  “No, Teddy, listen.”

  “You killed this man?”

  “Teddy, just listen to me, I need you to understand.”

  “Understand what? That you killed this man in cold blood!”

  “Teddy, shut up for a second and listen!” Greg grabbed the young cop by the shoulder, forcing him to look at the creature on the ground behind him.

  Teddy jumped back, startled at the hideous sight. The thing on the floor was like a large hairless cat covered in greyish slime.

  “What the hell is that?”

  “That’s what I’m trying to tell you, man. Just listen to me, would you?”