Hitch Hiker

[charlesamonte]

The suns hot rays beat down on him like one thousand microscopes over an ant. The heat wave was almost unbearable, and he was from Canada - that was just the cherry on the cake. He was used to negative forty degree weather, and that was without the wind chill; however he still found the worst place to have car trouble and for once it wasn't getting it caught in a snow bank. Charlie's shirt was off, it was much to hot to be walking around in a business suit, for once he wished that the wolf would come in handy but he doubted even more body weight and fur would help the situation one bit. Charlie found himself looking up at the clear blue sky, not even the clouds were passing in front of the sun. That realization just added to his depression, that was certainly the last time he rented a Ford, which was kind of ironic to the situation. Charlie had been brought up with a family of comedian's, or so they pretended to be. His father always remarked that Ford was the abbreviation to "found on road dead", he finally understood what that old fart meant, too bad he couldn't tell him.

It felt like forever since the last time he'd seen a car, he'd probably walked a fair two miles from where the truck broke down. It wasn't that he didn't know how to fix a truck it was that he didn't have the tools or the extra supplies needed to fix a truck. The young looking man scoffed lightly, all he wanted to do was get to L.A, get the meeting over with and head home to New York, but it seemed the big guy upstairs wasn't done with him just yet. This turned out to be possibly one of the worst business meetings he could remember to date, other then that one in Montreal where he got 'stuck' outside of a bar. Charlie was beginning to think that he needed a vacation from all this bad luck, first he's told that he needs to leave the country on account that the citizens were scared of a little diversity. Second, he makes it to the states to find out that the banks stocks dropped and that he'd need other franchises in different places around the states.

That wasn't even the best part, now he was stuck walking two hundred miles to no where, to arrive at a meeting that he'd be ten hours late for. Now that was true work initiative at its finest, too bad for him that this was the first meeting he had in the states as a legal immigrant. It didn't matter where you were from now a days, if you even came from the country next door you were searched at its door, then your taking crap from the people around you until your citizenship papers are pulled through. He shook his head lightly as he walked, holding out his thumb to try and catch a ride.

[jules]

The soul of her moccasin pressed the pedal, sending the vehicle forward on the hot pavement. Humid air whipped around her, sending her blonde locks strewn against her seat. She adjusted her hold on the steering wheel slightly, feeling pulsing beats from the music through her car. A silver metallic Jeep Wrangler. She had been waiting for almost forever to get one, and now she finally had one. It had taken her some extra hours of work, and a few weeks living on friend’s couches, but it was worth it.

Second gear.

She really wished that she was back in New York. She was from Ireland and Germany, not being very fond of the heat there either, let alone in sunny California. Why was she in California? Because one of the bands that she was managing was going under. They couldn’t come up with a decent song and they weren’t making any money for the company, let alone themselves. So it was Juliet to the rescue, luckily her mind was creative enough to come up with some decent lyrics and chords to neighbor it. Too bad she only managed bands, and wasn’t in one. She sighed briefly, turning the music up louder as she pressed further down on the pedal. That was exactly how she liked it, fast and loud. A laugh emerged from her throat at the thought.

Third gear.

She veered around numerous corners and cars, even though she had no where to go. She was in this city until tomorrow, then it was back to New York with her. A red light emerged in the distance, the only one for miles. She slowed, back through second, and first gear until the jeep reached a halt. Cars came pouring from both sides of the red light, as she was the only one on this particular side of the street. She gripped the rest of her hair in her hands, pulling it behind her, restraining it from being blown around once again. She fell back against her seat, watching as the light turned from a neon green to a luminescent yellow, to a pale red. The lights seemed the hesitate momentarily, before switching back to neon green, allowing her to cross the threshold.

Second gear.
…
Third gear.

She found herself traveling the road with no one on either side. Just her, and the pavement along with the sun. The sound from the tread on the tires against the pavement was barely audible from the music coming from her speakers. Marilyn Manson. Her favorite artist of all time, almost. There were a few more better people in front of him, but he was definitely up there. A few more miles down the road and she passed by a broken down truck on the side of the road. Thinking nothing of it, she kept driving acting as if it wasn’t even there. Not even a mile down the road, a man was walking in the distance. The possible owner of the truck? It was plausible, his thumb was out, trying to hitch a ride.

Second gear.

First gear.

She stopped a few feet in front of him, turning the music down before coming to a stop. The Irish accent left her mouth, the only sound around for possible miles. “Need a ride?”

EXOH