"No, I just need a ride," he said with a strange tone to his voice.

"Where are you going?"

She didn't hear his answer. An 18 wheeler went screaming by, blowing his horn at God knew what. She turned her head to make sure her car wasn't too close to the highway. When she returned her gaze to the young man, she found a jet black pistol staring her down. The hole in the end of the barrel looked like the mouth of a cave.

"Where we're going is none of your business. Just concern yourself with driving. You'll discover our destination soon enough."

"But your car," Gertrude began. "You aren't going to just abandon it, are you?"

The white man smiled, revealing a perfect set of sparkling teeth. Looking from the barrel to his face, she now saw a sinister gleam in his eyes. He was a man that wouldn't stand for nonsense.

"Don't worry about the car granny. It isn't mine anyway."

"You stole it!" Gertrude said in shock and a tremble in her voice. She didn't want to give him the satisfaction of seeing her in fear, but that was the least of her worries now.

"Of course I stole it," the man said in a mocking laugh. "I couldn't very well hide a corpse in my own car, now could I? Why don't you quit stalling and start driving? Hurry now; I'm anxious to get out of here."

Gertrude put the car in drive and pulled onto the highway. "I need to take this next exit. I'm nearly out of fuel."

"Listen very close to me. If you don't do exactly as I say, you'll find yourself with an extra hole in your head. I can always toss you in the trunk and start driving myself.

"Besides that, the gas tank always holds more than what the gauge shows. You're not on empty yet. Believe it or not, I used to be a mechanic before… Well, never mind that. You just keep going until I tell you different."

Gertrude silently scolded herself for not listening to her instincts. At her age, she should know better than to pick up hitchhikers. She thought of numerous ways to escape but none seemed likely to succeed. She was a helpless, little old lady. What chance did she have against someone like him?

She did the only thing she could. She drove. The setting of the sun progressed quickly. The darkness became unsettling. She turned on the car's headlights and the dashboard radiated a faint green light. The illumination reflecting off the hitchhiker's face gave him an unnatural appearance.

Gertrude glanced at her odometer, but she had no idea how far they had traveled. The young man continued to point the gun toward her as he directed her ever onward.

She glanced up at the star-filled sky. The vague shape of a face appeared more prominent on the moon than she had ever seen. With a little imagination, it could very well be the hitchhiker's mug superimposed on the lunar surface.

Without warning, the car began to sputter and stall. "We're out of fuel," she said with smug satisfaction.

The gunman looked at the car's gauges. "It can't be empty. The gauge hasn't moved. There must be something wrong underneath the hood. Pull over to the side of the road."

"As opposed to what?" Gertrude said sarcastically, letting her anger get the best of her. "Did you think I'd let it die right in the middle of the road?"

"Shut up," he said with a growl, "or you'll be the one who dies in the middle of the road. Just do what I tell you to do."