Page 2 of The Stranger
He stares ahead, the smile disappearing, and for a moment, I think he’s going to leave. Instead, he says, “But why? Why won’t you let me help you? I don’t know why you’re walking this empty highway in the middle of the night, but I know I haven’t passed a car on this stretch of road in hours. How long’s it been since you saw another car? If you don’t trust me, fine, but how long until someone you do trust comes along? I swear I’m not trying to hurt you. I just… I can’t leave you out here. I’m sorry, but I can’t.”
I stare at him in utter disbelief. This man really is impossible. Why are we still arguing over this? “What you can or can’t do is not my problem. I’m not getting in the car with a stranger. I’ll be fine.”
He stops the car, his headlights suddenly flashing bright as he turns on his hazard lights. Then, he steps from the car and jogs over to me, his hand held out. “Hi. I haven’t properly introduced myself. I’m Walker.”
I force a sickly-sweet smile. “Hi, Walker. I’m walking.” My voice goes flat and emotionless, and I watch as his grin goes away. “And I didn’t ask for your help.” I ignore his hand and zip around him, continuing to walk and hoping he gets the hint.
He’s persistent, I’ll give him that. Then again, so are most serial killers.
“Now we aren’t strangers,” he says. “Though I suspect, and kind of hope, your name isn’t literally walking.”
“Caught onto that, did you?” I shake my head. This is ridiculous. At least he hasn’t raced to catch up with me yet.
“You know, if I wanted to hurt you, I wouldn’t ask you to get in the car. I’d just take you,” he calls from behind me. His words stun me, and I stop in my tracks. Slowly, angrily, I turn around to face him. My nails dig into my palms as I squeeze my hands into fists inside the sleeves of my jacket.
In fairness, he has a point. If he meant me harm, he could easily try to pick me up and shove me into his car. He underestimates my will to survive, however, and the fact that I would fight with everything I have. He thinks I’m just a woman—a helpless, defenseless woman.
Sometimes, I think that’s our best weapon. Let them think we’re weak until we have to prove otherwise.
“I don’t have any weapons on me. Feel free to search my car. I’m not a threat to you. I just want to be sure you’re safe. I’d offer to call you a ride, but there’s no service out here for miles.” He gives a half-shrug as if to say he’s thought of everything. “I get that you don’t want my help—don’t need my help—but can you just…can you just get in the car and let me drive you to the nearest town so you can get someone’s help?” He laughs through a pleading face. “You’re shivering, and it’s killing me.”
I hadn’t realized I was, but now I notice he’s right. My body is so cold I’ve begun to lose feeling everywhere. Freezing isn’t a bad way to go, from what I’ve heard. Just like falling asleep.
For the record, it’s not like that’s why I’m out here. But it beats being skinned alive or whatever this monster might have in store for me. I’m not an idiot, and his little act of pretending to care doesn’t fool me.
“Can you at least tell me your name?”
“Why?” I challenge.
“Hell if I know,” he says with a sigh. “But I have this feeling in my gut that if something happens to you, I’ll never forgive myself. And, since I’m a southern gentleman, neither will my momma.” One corner of his mouth upturns with a charming smile that has worked wonders for him in the past, I’d be willing to bet. “My parents taught me manners, Walking.”
At that, I snort. “But obviously not to know that no means no.”
His jaw drops open, his finger up in the air. “Now look, this is not that. I know that no means no. I’m just… I’m trying to help you. I’m trying to make sure you don’t freeze.” I begin to walk again, and this time, he jogs to catch up. “Unless that’s your plan.”
I set my jaw, pinning my chin forward. “I’m not going to freeze.”
“Respectfully disagree.”
Crossing my arms, I give a sharp nod without looking at him. “And that’s your right.”
He scoffs. “Are you really so stubborn you’d let yourself die out here just to avoid getting in the car with me?”
“Better so stubborn than so stupid I get in the car with a stranger and end up dead.”
“Do I really look dangerous to you?” He shoves both hands out to his sides dramatically.
I cut a quick glance his way without really looking at him. “You’re a white male in your thirties, so if you’ve watched the news, like, literally ever, I’m not really sure I need to answer that question.”
He laughs then. I mean really, really laughs. His head falls backward, mouth gaped open as he releases the warm sound into the night. When he’s done, he’s winded and out of breath, like this is a comedy show, and I’ve just made his night. As he finally pulls himself together, I can’t believe I’m still standing here. I’m utterly shocked at how dumb we both are.
“I guess that’s a fair point,” he says eventually. Then, as if it’s on his side, the storm picks up, icy pellets of snow smacking me in the face and arms, clinging to my hair. The wind howls in sync with the voice inside of me screaming that I’m going to freeze to death if I don’t find somewhere warm and dry soon.
I’m very concerned about my toes, which no longer have any feeling left. Each step is accompanied by a sharp, lightning sensation in my legs.
I want to survive this. Deep underneath everything else, the fear, the anger, the confusion, I know that I want to make it through this night alive. The question is, how do I do that? What am I supposed to do when I have two paths laid out in front of me, and neither seems safe, though they’re my only options.
I could get into the car with him, see what happens, and hope for the best. Or I could keep walking and hope I don’t freeze to death. Either way feels awful, but only one of those options seems to have a slight bit of hope to it. Only one of the scenarios seems like at least a fifty percent chance of survival.