I was nervous when a car finally stopped. I opened the back door and sat down.
“Oi mate, I’m not your chauffeur, get in the front seat,” the man said.
Reluctantly, I got out and repositioned myself in the passenger seat. It didn’t ruin my plans, but made it much more difficult. The man pulled away, one hand on the steering wheel and one in his lap, which he left as if his arm was lame.
“Where’re you headed?” he asked.
“Just anywhere away from here,” I responded.
The man shifted in his seat. The road was empty, the street lights sporadic. I slipped my hand into my pocket. I noticed the man steal a glance.
“Are you running from someone?”
“No,” I said, breathing deeply and gripping the knife in my pocket.
I slipped it out, putting my other hand in the man’s coat, pulling him closer.
“Uh uh uh, I’ll have none of that,” he said pointing a gun at me that he had hidden in his lap.
He chuckled to himself, “Well ain’t this ironic. What were *you* going to do?”
Stunned, I withdrew my weapon and sunk into the seat, lamenting getting into the car.
“Were you going to kill me?” he asked.
I stayed quiet.
“Well tonight ain’t your lucky night. Take out your wallet and put it on the dashboard. And that flimsy knife, throw it in the back.”
I sighed, complying with his order.
“Good, you know how this works.”
We drove in silence for the next few miles.
“You know this isn’t personal,” he continued, “I see why you wanted to sit in the back now. I did think that a little odd for a hitch-hiker. You know I’m going to kill you, right?”
I hung my head.
“Hold up,” the man said, slowing the car.
He pulled over and a young woman approached the car. He rolled down my window.
“Need a ride?” he said.
“Oh thank you so much, I broke down. There’s no signal out here, I thought no-one was going to stop,” she said, relieved.
“Well maybe it *is* your lucky day,” the man said, “Get out.”
He handed back my wallet, and I left the car. The woman entered and the car sped away.
I sighed in relief and pulled the other wallet out of my pocket. I checked the driver’s licence, *Alex Jones – 155 Oak Lane, Dorset.* That’s not far from here.
I stuck out my thumb and waited for someone to pick me up, I knew where I was going now.