Despite my previous lacklustre experience with hitchhiking from the beach town gas station, I decided to try again. But this time I brought a friend. That way if I was forced to walk home again I’d have someone to talk to, instead of doing mental gymnastics.

We weren’t hitching as late as my last time, yet thick fog swept the landscape and the street lamps, the ones that were working, barely aided this problem. Cars were still actively moving through, but sadly, none of them were stopping.

My friend was Brent Taylor, a kid a year younger than me. He had attached himself to my friend group through me and had a reputation as the cousin of an older kid who had been convicted of manslaughter.

Brent and I would hitch hike down to the city to steal nice clothes to wear to parties and, on occasion, sell for half price to get weed.

At the time if you asked me what he was, I would’ve said ‘He’s the friend you know that’s bad for you.’ But as time has rolled on, I think that we were just as mischievous as each other.

We went on hitching for another half hour until a white station wagon pulled over and a crazy-haired woman hopped out. She spoke with a foreign accent, one that I still cannot pinpoint. She told us “We’ll take you wherever you wanna go!”

I loved the enthusiasm, but considering we were only hitching ten minutes over to the next town, I hardly thought it was necessary.

We began walking toward the car when Brent noticed something inside. He swiftly shook his head and said “Nah, I’m all good.”

“C’mon, we can’t have you two freezing out here on a cold winter night.” The lady insisted, with a smile that mimicked hooks pulling at her cheeks.

Brent began to back away, his jaw hanging. I couldn’t pinpoint why. “C’mon man, let’s just hop in.”

“Nah, I’m good,” he said again.

I looked over and noticed that the lady’s smile had vanished. “He’s got an attitude problem?”

I turned to Brent again, “C’mon man, this is our ride.”

“I’m gonna wait for the next one.”

“Are you hopping in?” she asked, her face tense.

I noticed an older man sitting in the passenger seat, sitting silently, slightly turning an ear to observe our conversation.

“I’ll wait with the bro, I think.”

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“You’ve both got attitude problems. Good luck freezing to death!” She hissed, hopping back into her car before driving away.

We watched as the beaming taillights disappeared into the thick fog.

“What’s wrong? That was our ride,” I stated, casting my vision over to Brent, who was not nearly as played up as his usual self.

“Did you see that bird in the back of their car?” Brent replied, lighting a smoke.

“Nah, what about it? Who cares?”

“That was an endangered bird. Stuffed and caged. It’s illegal to have a bird like that. They must be into something shady.” Brent dragged on his smoke.

“I dont think it’s that deep. Maybe they like taxidermy.” I said, waving away his cigarette smoke.

“It’s just a gut feeling, Max. Nothing was stopping you from hopping in.”

“Well, whatever you call it, we’re freezing our asses off in the cold because of it.” I laughed, watching the clouds part from the moon.

“You ever get worried that one of these days you’ll get got?” asked Brent, ashing his smoke.

I thought for a moment.

“You mean like Rob?”

Brent raised his eyebrows and looked towards the fog-filled horizon, “Yeah, something like that.”

“Surely not. Last I heard, Wade and the other crackles left town after their house burnt down.”

“I heard they blew it up trying to cook their own Meth.” Brent said, exhaling smoke.

“I heard that the neighbours got sick of their carry-on and burned the house down.” I replied, putting my arms inside my hoodie.

“Wade and them might’ve finally been cleaned up. But I doubt they’re the only people in this town with sinister hobbies,” Brent stated, as a car began to approach.

I stuck my thumb out, Brent chucked his cigarette and stuck his out too.

As the vehicle drew closer I recognised the decals and lettering of it to be a police vehicle. More importantly, the chief of our local police, “Warren Davis”, was behind the wheel.

Davis pulled the car over and tooted his horn.

“Now look what you’ve done, we’re in the shit,” I muttered to Brent.

“Don’t look at me. I’d prefer not to arrive home cut up in an Ice tray.” Brent scoffed, looking across at the squad car.

“Well, should we get in?” I asked Brent.

Brent pulled a face, “I’m good. You can if you want.”

“Come on man, that’ll be two cars now. It’s getting late; we might as well.”

“Shit, I don’t know. That’s one of the pigs that arrested Taine.” (His cousin.)

“Who cares man? it’s only a ten-minute drive,” I insisted, walking towards the car.

Brent remained where he was.

I grabbed the door handle and looked back at Brent. “I’m not freezing in the cold with you anymore. Come on!”

Brent grimaced, and then dragged his feet towards the squad car.

Wade Davis was a powerfully built man. His forearms looked like tree trunks, his head touched the car's roof, his eyes were stern as he said to us, “Bit late for you two to be hitching.”

“Yeah, we don’t really like to after hearing what happened to our mate Rob.” I agreed, buckling my seatbelt.

Davis pulled off from the gas station, and we made our way through the tense fog.

Davis remained silent as he navigated our way. I decided to speak again, “Do you know what happened with Wade and that?”

Davis cleared his throat but didn’t speak.

I read the room and remained silent.