“ARIZONA HIGHWAYS”

a short horror story, a look into madness

Due to some sticky circumstances, I needed to get rid of my late model Chevrolet sedan. I decided to drive down to Tucson from the Tempe, Arizona area and see what was available. I made the road trip down Interstate 10 to Tucson where I found a used car lot with a late model Toyota coup that I liked. I let the fast-talking salesman in Tucson swindle me out of my Chevrolet and dumped the beater and a hand full of cash for the Toyota. It was a nice, non-script white Toyota GR Supra with custom wheels that the salesman related had belonged to an older gentleman who was trying to relive his youth.

The Toyota seemed to have been a well-maintained automobile and on the test drive, I noted that it rode like a sled, and handled great. I purchased it and decided to put it to the test by driving back to Phoenix the long way. I thought I might find some excitement driving the GR Supra on the mountains roads so I took off westbound on Arizona State Highway 86 towards the Quijotoa cutoff. I knew the Arizona back road wormed its way over towards Arizona City and then connect back up to Interstate 10, just south of Casa Grande. It would be a fun drive and maybe I would find some excitement driving my new sports car through the tight curves over the mountain road.

Leaving Tuscon, I pushed the sporty Toyota on the straightaways along the desert highway and drifted through the ups and downs of its gently rolling hills. I loved how the Supra handled in the curves and I enjoyed driving it over the Chevrolet so much that I had not noticed the fuel consumption. It kind of spooked me when I saw the tiny light blinking on the dash. It read, 39 miles. I was beginning to get apprehensive about making it home or even to a community with a service station when I passed a sign that read, Gasoline 10 miles ahead, Sells, Arizona, Tohono O’Odham Indian Reservation. I drifted into the small station on fumes and a prayer guiding my car to the pumps. It was getting close to sundown and I was glad to have found some gasoline. I didn’t want to sit on the side of the road all night. I filled up, paid the bill, and pulled over to the only open restaurant.

It was late tourist season and once inside I noticed it was waiting room only. I was just about ready to just grab a candy bar and a soda when I noticed a young man motioning towards me. I walked down the busy aisle and stopped at his table.

“Have a seat,” he said motioning to the other side of the booth.

I smiled politely and apologized. “I couldn’t impose on you.”

He gestured with a nod of his head towards the seat again. “You are not imposing at all. The place is packed and there is a waiting line. I’m by myself and you are welcome to share my table.”

I hunched my shoulders and smiled. “What the heck,” I said as I began scooting into the booth.”Well, I am hungry and I haven’t eaten since this morning in Phoenix,” I added.

He reached across the table, “I’m Brad,” he said.

I took his hand and shook it. “Good to meet you, Brad, I’m Thomas,” I said.

We immediately struck up a conversation. Where’ya from Thomas?”

“Well I am going to Phoenix, but I live off US 60 near Apache Junction.”

“Really,” Brad said. “Small world I guess. I live at Chandler myself.”

We continued talking until our food got to the table. Brad was a personable young man in his late twenties just a couple of years younger than myself. Come to find out he was in dire need of a ride. He had been out hiking and after more conversation offered to pay for my gasoline if I could give him a lift. He looked like a clean-cut, decent guy, I was a little short on cash and I could use the company across the desert as well so I thought what the hell, why not

Finishing our meal, we hit the road. By now it was dark and we made good time to the cut-off of highway 15 at Quijotoa, Arizona. It was a much narrower road than I had driven before. This area along the highway is sparsely populated and there wasn’t much traffic. The road twisted and turned and the conversation turned to books. Seems, Brad was an avid reader just like myself and we both enjoyed David Balducci, James Patterson, John Le Carré, Cussler, and others as well.

Suddenly my headlight lit up something in the road ahead of us.  It was not uncommon for a local to be walking out here but at this hour. It was a man, dressed in shabby, dirty clothes. He was scruffy and looked unshaven. He was waving his hands and arms wildly in what looked to be as if he was trying to get me to stop. As I started slowing down, Brad cried out.  “What are you doing man! Don’t stop,” he shouted in a serious voice.

“He may have needed help,” I said.

“Man, haven’t you heard the news? There is someone killing people around here. Don’t stop dude,” he said excitedly.

I gunned the Toyota and sped away leaving the stranger standing in the darkness. I glanced over at Brad.  He was pale. I noticed he quickly looked out the back window and then back to the side mirror. He seemed to be shaking.

“Damn Brad, relax. What news are you talking about,” I asked?

“I have been hiking this area for over a month. There is someone murdering people on this stretch of highway. He had killed over a half dozen people already this summer that they know of. He pretends to be a hitchhiker and once he gets a car to stop and help him they think he gets in the car and murders the people who helped him,” he said digging in his backpack stored in the floorboard. “I found this phone on the trail two days ago. The phone doesn’t work but there are lots of photos on it. I am going to give it to the Highway Patrol in Phoenix,” he opened the storage and thumbed a photo. The first photo was of a young man with his head crushed and split open. There was another of a middle-aged man with a sharp-pointed, broken plank off a pallet or shipping crate stuck in his chest.

I pulled to the side of the road and took the camera from him and began scrolling through the photos. There were numerous photos, and all of them were of horrendous murders, blood-splattered corpses mostly posed in grotesque poses. There were a couple of bodies lying on the ground near what looked to be an older model brown Chevrolet sedan. I looked up from the phone at Brad, his expression had changed. His face showed that he already knew how this was going to unfold.

“I don’t understand why they haven’t caught him,” I questioned?

Brad starred back t me. He spoke without emotion. “He is good at what he does I guess.”

At that moment we both knew that the real horror was about to begin. Right now we both were just flitting around the edges of death.

My voice was edgy. “Do you want to know what I think?” A nervous thin grin parted his lips. “I guess, go ahead,” he said.

I cleared my throat. “Well maybe, just maybe the driver of the car is the killer, and the hitchhiker is the real victim.”

There was a surprise on Brad’s face. “Maybe,” he said before continuing. “So you are saying the killer drives around until he finds a hitchhiker, picks him or her up, and then kills them?  The reason the cops can’t catch this serial killer is that they are looking at this all wrong?”

“Yeah, that is about it,”  I quipped.

Brad shifted his weight in the seat and turned towards me. A thin almost nervous smile broke his lips just as he started to speak. My mouth was a tight slit. I smiled and in one swift motion, I remove an eight-inch hunting knife that I had concealed between my legs and thrust the sharpened point into his stomach. I leaned close pulling Brad’s head closer to me with my other hand. I wanted to see the expression on his face and the fear in his eyes as he realized there was a large blade stuck in his stomach.

“I am glad you found that little camera, I was concerned as to where I had lost it,” I said, my smile now broader. I shivered as an electric tingle run up my spine, it was that feeling of exhilaration knowing I was in complete control. That magical moment where I was holding the power of life and death over another human being. I watched the sparkle draining from his eyes as I twisted my blade.  The warm blood flooding over my hand indicated it was draining away his dreams. At that moment I controlled everything.  I was superior to mortal man, I was God.

A Look into Madness by Newt Livesay, all rights reserved (c) 2021