The Sin Hitcher
Barry Charman
Barry Charman is a writer living in North London. He has been published in various magazines, sites and anthologies, including Ambit, Griffith Review, The Ghastling and Popshot Quarterly. Doom Warnings, his self-published collection of strange and speculative short stories is available in paperback on Amazon and as a PDF at: https://www.blurb.co.uk/b/12079076
I was dreaming about what might have happened if we'd just driven past the Sin Hitcher, when the sound of Liam yelling from the boot woke me with a jolt.
Sitting up front, I turned to see that the thing was driving. It had turned the lights off and was driving blindly through the night. I held my breath. I didn't want it to know I was awake, but it knew. It rolled a tooth in its mouth and made what might have been a chuckle. “They don't often stop,” it muttered.
I remembered it by the side of the road. Tall grey slice picked out in the headlights. I'd just blinked, and there it was. Didn't have its thumb out, just an arm outstretched, fist closed like it was a stump. It had thumbs in its pocket, though; showed us that much, before giving us its spiel, letting slip what it was.
I shivered.
“Lord take us home!” It laughed, giddily. It'd been on a dirt track off the highway. Looked convenient, but little used. We picked it up then rejoined the main road. It didn't say much till then. Then it pulled down its collar, got to talking about sin. It was dark inside the car, it was sitting in the back. I only half turned when it spoke, didn't see it for what it was. Not till it was too late.
Liam made another sound from the boot, my stomach lurched.
The Sin Hitcher whistled. “Bumpy road. But I guess you've already realised that.”
“We didn't do anything to you,” I said. “We stopped. We helped.”
“And you talked, kept talking.”
What the hell had we said? Something dumb about enjoying the open road. Taking a gap year that we'd never forget. Liam left behind a girl and said what happened on the road stayed on the road. I remember him laughing at that.
“Far from home, heh, boys?” The Hitcher had sneered from the back seat. I'd felt the first surge of unease then. “You want to see what's out here?” it'd continued. “Cut off a piece. Taste it for yourselves?”
I'd exchanged looks with Liam. “Don't know what you mean, mate.”
It all got blurry after that. I had a memory of looking back, suddenly seeing crimson eyes, a veil full of skin and teeth.
Seeing, and being seen.
It was something retched out of hell. All slivers of flesh and remnants of bone.
“What are you?” I asked.
The road ahead of us was black, unending. It started rambling about the bone highway. That was where it'd died. Some old haunted trail. It wasn't pretending to be human anymore, its words were strange, erratic. It spared me some lidless gaze that made me want to puke. “You die on that road, and the other roads wont take you.” It laughed, the sound was appalled, amused. “I died a sinner. Everyone should.”
“We're not sinners.”
Its foot hit the accelerator. “Liar.”
I grabbed at anything I could, as the car surged forward. Liam was screaming now. “We haven't hurt anyone! We just wanted to travel- I just want to go home!” I was shouting over the engine. In response, its foot only revved further on the pedal. The Hitcher was repeating its own name over and over. It was this chant that had first roused me. “Sin hitcher sin hitcher sin hitcher.”
A jarring thought struck me. Was it talking about itself, or us? Did it think we'd been corrupted by the road? Sure, along the way we'd drunk, tripped, met a few girls. What happened, happened. Where was the sin?
Was it denial?
The Hitcher was giggling. “Cars scream past, like shrapnel pushed into the road. Tainting it!” The laughter turned into something ominous.
“Please... We'll just go home.”
The Hitcher studied me. “Let Jesus take the wheel.”
It put its hands into the dark recesses of its clothes, and everything began to tremble. Was it suggesting that fate decide?
“Please!” I tried to grab the wheel, and the Hitcher exploded from his seat like a nest made of spiders. Limbs were all over me, scratching me, shoving my face back into the seat. The car was full of thumbs. They were pouring out of its pockets, filling up the entire car. Nightmarishly choking the space.
“You only stopped cos you thought I was helpless. Thought you'd take advantage of me, like you've taken advantage of the road! Admit it!”
“No!” I screamed. The car filled with obscene shapes and putrid odours. I turned and looked, the Hitcher wasn't at the wheel, no one was.
And then we crashed.
# # #
I woke up cradled in metal. Blanket of limbs. Pillow of blood. None of it mine. Souvenirs from the Hitcher. Liam was making noises somewhere. He was sobbing a girl's name, until he stopped.
Eventually there were sirens. There were cops, paramedics. I got some odd looks as they put me on a stretcher. “Another one this year,” someone said, “what is it with this road?”
It takes advantage of people who have taken advantage. I smiled, but didn't have enough teeth to articulate the thought. I tried to explain about Liam, but some screams suggested they'd found him. I tried to talk about the girl in the motel, how we'd only been a little drunk, and she’d seemed fine, but nothing came out.
The road was meant to be full of stories you could leave behind. I thought about that, and then started to cry. A paramedic patted my hand. My thumb was broken, but she didn't notice.
The girl had slammed the door on it, out of desperation. Now she was in the boot, making Liam cry. I tried not to think about that. It had worked so far. But then the ambulance doors slammed shut, and I realised it wasn't gonna work any longer.
The road had run out.
Sitting up front, I turned to see that the thing was driving. It had turned the lights off and was driving blindly through the night. I held my breath. I didn't want it to know I was awake, but it knew. It rolled a tooth in its mouth and made what might have been a chuckle. “They don't often stop,” it muttered.
I remembered it by the side of the road. Tall grey slice picked out in the headlights. I'd just blinked, and there it was. Didn't have its thumb out, just an arm outstretched, fist closed like it was a stump. It had thumbs in its pocket, though; showed us that much, before giving us its spiel, letting slip what it was.
I shivered.
“Lord take us home!” It laughed, giddily. It'd been on a dirt track off the highway. Looked convenient, but little used. We picked it up then rejoined the main road. It didn't say much till then. Then it pulled down its collar, got to talking about sin. It was dark inside the car, it was sitting in the back. I only half turned when it spoke, didn't see it for what it was. Not till it was too late.
Liam made another sound from the boot, my stomach lurched.
The Sin Hitcher whistled. “Bumpy road. But I guess you've already realised that.”
“We didn't do anything to you,” I said. “We stopped. We helped.”
“And you talked, kept talking.”
What the hell had we said? Something dumb about enjoying the open road. Taking a gap year that we'd never forget. Liam left behind a girl and said what happened on the road stayed on the road. I remember him laughing at that.
“Far from home, heh, boys?” The Hitcher had sneered from the back seat. I'd felt the first surge of unease then. “You want to see what's out here?” it'd continued. “Cut off a piece. Taste it for yourselves?”
I'd exchanged looks with Liam. “Don't know what you mean, mate.”
It all got blurry after that. I had a memory of looking back, suddenly seeing crimson eyes, a veil full of skin and teeth.
Seeing, and being seen.
It was something retched out of hell. All slivers of flesh and remnants of bone.
“What are you?” I asked.
The road ahead of us was black, unending. It started rambling about the bone highway. That was where it'd died. Some old haunted trail. It wasn't pretending to be human anymore, its words were strange, erratic. It spared me some lidless gaze that made me want to puke. “You die on that road, and the other roads wont take you.” It laughed, the sound was appalled, amused. “I died a sinner. Everyone should.”
“We're not sinners.”
Its foot hit the accelerator. “Liar.”
I grabbed at anything I could, as the car surged forward. Liam was screaming now. “We haven't hurt anyone! We just wanted to travel- I just want to go home!” I was shouting over the engine. In response, its foot only revved further on the pedal. The Hitcher was repeating its own name over and over. It was this chant that had first roused me. “Sin hitcher sin hitcher sin hitcher.”
A jarring thought struck me. Was it talking about itself, or us? Did it think we'd been corrupted by the road? Sure, along the way we'd drunk, tripped, met a few girls. What happened, happened. Where was the sin?
Was it denial?
The Hitcher was giggling. “Cars scream past, like shrapnel pushed into the road. Tainting it!” The laughter turned into something ominous.
“Please... We'll just go home.”
The Hitcher studied me. “Let Jesus take the wheel.”
It put its hands into the dark recesses of its clothes, and everything began to tremble. Was it suggesting that fate decide?
“Please!” I tried to grab the wheel, and the Hitcher exploded from his seat like a nest made of spiders. Limbs were all over me, scratching me, shoving my face back into the seat. The car was full of thumbs. They were pouring out of its pockets, filling up the entire car. Nightmarishly choking the space.
“You only stopped cos you thought I was helpless. Thought you'd take advantage of me, like you've taken advantage of the road! Admit it!”
“No!” I screamed. The car filled with obscene shapes and putrid odours. I turned and looked, the Hitcher wasn't at the wheel, no one was.
And then we crashed.
# # #
I woke up cradled in metal. Blanket of limbs. Pillow of blood. None of it mine. Souvenirs from the Hitcher. Liam was making noises somewhere. He was sobbing a girl's name, until he stopped.
Eventually there were sirens. There were cops, paramedics. I got some odd looks as they put me on a stretcher. “Another one this year,” someone said, “what is it with this road?”
It takes advantage of people who have taken advantage. I smiled, but didn't have enough teeth to articulate the thought. I tried to explain about Liam, but some screams suggested they'd found him. I tried to talk about the girl in the motel, how we'd only been a little drunk, and she’d seemed fine, but nothing came out.
The road was meant to be full of stories you could leave behind. I thought about that, and then started to cry. A paramedic patted my hand. My thumb was broken, but she didn't notice.
The girl had slammed the door on it, out of desperation. Now she was in the boot, making Liam cry. I tried not to think about that. It had worked so far. But then the ambulance doors slammed shut, and I realised it wasn't gonna work any longer.
The road had run out.