Perfect Life

CHAPTER 1 Open country spread out beneath the night into distant, scribbled lines of pine and scrub brush. Freezing air whistled through invisible cracks in the hard convertible top; the whine of snow tires vibrated through rubber floor mats; and every whir, groan, and gear change poured into the Land Cruiser's interior as if amplified by a static-wracked sound system. "Turn on the heater." The two hitchhikers had been riding with Scott Thomas for only ten miles. He twisted a knob on the dash. "High as it'll go." A male voice in back asked, "How old is this thing?" "Old. It's a seventy-six." "Freezing my ass off." The girl reached across from the passenger seat and put her hand on Scott's thigh. "Don't you wanna pull over somewhere?" With her touch, he felt the weight of his decision to help these people settle over him. He gently lifted her hand and moved it away. She tried to sound charming. "What's the hurry? Don't you like to have fun? Look at the shoulders on you. What are you, like a hockey player or something?" Scott shook his head and breathed deeply to calm growing apprehension. He didn't tell the girl that he'd wrestled in college. Wrestlers--the real kind--learn to keep quiet about their sport around strangers. More than a few guys have something to prove, and winning a fight is only marginally less painful and undignified than losing one. The guy in back said, "Strong-looking sonofabitch, all right. Not that big, though." The girl giggled and touched Scott's shoulder. "Come on. Pull over. I can do things with my tongue that'll make that pretty curly hair stand on end." Her boyfriend in the backseat--a tall kid with jelled hair--laughed. "Friendly, isn't she?" Scott could feel things slipping. A palpable charge of confrontation was growing inside the Land Cruiser's cramped interior. The two kids were taking control--slowly asserting their aggression--without making any obvious move. He glanced at the girl. "What'd you say your name is?" "Didn't." She giggled again and turned to look at the boy in back. "What's my name? I forget." Scott sensed movement behind him and felt the boy's breath on the back of his neck. He jerked his foot off the gas, getting ready to slam the brake pedal to throw the guy off balance--to get some distance around him so he could do something to regain control. But the pinch of cold metal against the side of his throat stopped Scott's foot in midair. The old Land Cruiser slowed, and the sound of snow tires on pavement changed from high-pitched whine to a deep rumble. The kid with the knife said, "Pull over. Now. Pull over, or I'll cut your throat and let my girl grab the wheel." Scott felt the moist, malodorous warmth of nervous breath roll across the skin between his hair and collar. Seconds passed. Scott's neck chilled as the boy inhaled deeply. "Go ahead and grab the steering wheel." "What?" "I'm not talking to you. Go ahead, baby. Take hold of the wheel. He tries to wreck us, I'm gonna cut him back to his neck bone." Scott's mind raced. "Okay if I say something?" The hitchhikers were quiet now. The only sound was the rumble of road and engine noise, softened by the rush of heated air blowing from somewhere beneath the dash. "It took me two years to restore this thing, but it's not worth getting killed over." He tried to keep his voice calm, to sound reasonable. "Let me pull over. The car's yours." The pinch of the knife edge lessened. "Pull over here." Scott steered his four-wheel drive onto the shoulder and rolled to a stop. He put on the emergency brake and dropped the gearshift into neutral. He tried to be still insidStewart, Mike is the author of 'Perfect Life', published 2004 under ISBN 9780440241324 and ISBN 0440241324.