The Hit List

Chapter 18

Hitch turned to face me. His eyes widened. He looked at me as if I were made of fire. "What are you looking at?" I wiped my face while trying to think of what might be causing it.

He glanced in the rearview mirror. What had once been twinkling city lights, was slowly giving way to empty streets. I didn't want him to look back. I wanted him to look straight ahead. To keep all four wheels straight on the road.

It was late. I turned my head to watch the dark road behind us. "Hitch?" My voice was loud in the quiet car. "Where are we going?" I looked out all the windows, searching for any sign in the endless darkness.

"No." He focused on the road ahead. My hand clenched onto my arm. "You have nothing to worry about. Go ahead and put on the radio, I'm not picky." His hands gripped the wheel. His posture matches the stiffness. He breathed. Once. Deeply.

I leaned towards the radio, turning it on and pressing some buttons. Struggling to find a station that wasn't filled with static. Scrolling past funk, passing hip-hop, ignoring foreign news. Until I landed on a familiar beat.

A myriad of words were sung in quick succession. A list of various events I wasn't alive to see. A cultural reset that I recognized immediately. Billy Joel's We Didn't Start The Fire. A song that never ceased to catch my attention.

My eyes closed and my lips moved. No sound coming out. I could hear a gust of wind over the beat. How long could this drive take? He'd hit the highway soon. "You're some sort of android if you've never heard this song."

He gained on the darkness. Our trip would end eventually. He hasn't said much. He just continues to drive into the wall of black. Soon we'd reach the other side. "Of course, I've heard this song."

As he bursts through the smokey night, we see the headlights of the highway. Ahead is humanity. Making their journeys home. Leftovers from their dinners out sitting on their car mats. Singing along to repetitive pop songs.

He sighs in relief. "I hate driving at night. Who knows what could splatter itself against my windshield?" He lets up on the accelerator and lets the car return to its regular cruising speed. His fingers move along the wheel.

"Really?" My eyes are on him now, a weak smile lighting my face. "You only like killing things on your terms? Can't give up control?" I adjust the volume, turning it down slightly as the song goes through the first chorus.

"I feel like you apologize to roadkill." I stared behind us as his terror retreated in the distance. "Like, you feel guilty for accidentally taking a life. Like if I had pulled your trigger. You looked like you were going to shit yourself."

"Fear is... A little fear is a healthy thing." He starts to continue then stops himself. As though he were going to read a sonnet from his memory, before thinking otherwise. Deciding he would save it for someone more worthy.

He watches the road, his eyes moving in thought. A slight relief showed in their darkness. He moves the wheel carefully, always aware of the other cars on the road. Maintaining a distance that some would describe as overly cautious.

I was quiet. Attempting to focus on the music within the silence. My hand reaches for the volume. "Do you know any of the lyrics?" I tap my hand to the beat, mumbling along to the words under my breath.

The sun is long gone. We ate before we left. A bagel with avocado on top. The bagels caused the toaster to smoke. Hitch had cut them unevenly. That along with him walking away to search for his car keys caused the smoke.

"Other than the chorus." I continually tapped my knee, my fingers drumming as though on a keyboard. The beat is uneven with my lack of proper rhythm. Always hitting my pants a beat too late.