O'l Luther

The road between Quorn and Hawker seemed to go on forever and the persistent rain on the windscreen did not help to break the monotony of the scenery outside. There was nothing out there except dried-up saltbush and dead trees standing as a reminder of how harsh this landscape could be and how hard it was to survive out here in this bleak and barren land. George and Elsa had passed the ruins of an old homestead closer to town and wondered how anybody could make a living out here. It was not for nothing they called this area the Outback and they had travelled a long way to experience it. Their friends told them when they arrived in Adelaide from London that they had to see the Flinders Rangers, the real South Australia. They warned them that the weather could be unpredictable at this time of year and to listen out for warnings of flooding on the way, but they said the journey was well worth it. It was not unusual for travellers’ to be cut off by the overflooded roads, but all had gone well so far, and it was only a light rain that played across the car windows and the constant thud of windscreen wipers moving back and forth.

George and Elsa left Adelaide in the morning that very same day and did not quite realize the distance between the city and the Flinders Rangers out here in the outback. They had travelled for hours except for a short petrol stop in the historic town of Quorn where they took a well needed rest by the roadside. It was already getting towards dusk and the visibility was decreasing rapidly. They were told about the kangaroos that usually came out to feed at this time of the night and how they sometimes appeared out of nowhere on the road, ending up as roadkill. George had seen several dead carcasses laying by the side of the road and was now driving extra carefully to make sure he would spot them before it was too late. The clouds hung heavy in the sky and mist covered the mountain chain ahead. There was something about this road that made him feel uneasy. He wanted to put the radio on but did not want to wake up Elsa who was sleeping soundly beside him. He switched to high beam and the light reflected on the wet road. There were no lights out here, no cars, or traffic behind or in front of them. He really did not want to break down out here. God help them if they did.

The road was perfectly straight now, and the mountains ahead were swallowed up in the darkness, and there was nothing to focus on except his headlights on the white median strip. A feeling of despair began to come over him. ‘What if they broke down,’ he thought again and only wished the next town would hurry up and appear. It was then he noticed something by the side of the road a little further ahead. It looked like a tree at first, but it seemed to be dangerously close to the side of the road which made him slow down. He could see that whatever it was seemed to be moving and as he got closer it became apparent it was a person waiving at him. For a moment he thought of passing by and pretend he had not seen him. George was not a risktaker and he knew that it was all too easy to become a statistic out here in the middle of nowhere. However, he pulled up. He could not see much more than a man in a hat and a long trench coat standing by the side of the road. Shadows obscured his face as he slowly started to approach them. George opened the window and a gush of rain hit his face and then the man was standing in front of him. A dark and wet figure, silent, and George thought somewhat menacing.

- What’s the problem? Are you all right?

The man nodded in response.

- Can you take me to Hawker? My car broke down just by the creek over there.

He pointed somewhere behind him, but George could not see anything in the darkness and presumed the creek must be further away.

- Sure, hop in!

The man opened the back door and seated himself beside the luggage.

- Thanks!

Elsa woke.

- What’s up?

- Just giving someone a lift.

She looked in the rearview mirror and murmured something and then nodded off to sleep again. George felt sorry for her, their trip had been long and had taken its toll on her. Back on the road again George asked the stranger what had happened.

- Not a good night to be out, what happened?

- The engine died.

George could barely hear him; his voice was low and horse and the sound of the motor and the rain did not help either.

- Do you live around here?

He was trying to catch a glimpse of the man’s face in the rear vision mirror, but it was too dark, and the hat was pulled down. Drips of water fell from the rim down on to his wet coat, but he seemed oblivious to it.

- Yes, back there.

George looked around but could not see anything.

- It’s very isolated out here. Doesn’t seem to be many folks out here.

The man looked straight ahead and did not answer. George understood this was a person of few words and conversation was something in which he was not interested. He started to feel uneasy and wished he had not picked him up. But then again you would not leave somebody stranded out here, would you? George tried again to strike a conversation as the silence had almost become deafening and he was feeling increasingly uncomfortable with this stranger in his car.

- Is Hawker far away?

The man nodded.

- Yes, far away, but not so far away…

There was his answer. This fellow was indeed a man of few words, he was grateful Elsa was there beside him.

He turned the dials on the radio but picked up only static.

- There doesn’t seem to be any reception out here.

- No reception, the man mumbled.

The horse voice was almost whispering, and George became aware of a strange smell that began to permeate the air around them. He tried to identify it thinking it could be the food he had brought earlier but it smelled like dampness and decay, and it came from the place where the man was sitting.

- I am George by the way.

The man nodded and said nothing.

The darkness was now all consuming and George knew he could not go on much further. There was a tenseness in the air, like that place in between thunder and the flash of lightening you waited for. When they reached Hawker, he would go to the nearest hotel and they would get a room for the night, run a hot bath, and hopefully find a nice warm bed to collapse in. He had underestimated this long journey. He certainly did not need any more distractions. Who was this man in the mirror? Did his car really break down or was it just something he said?

He did not see the kangaroo until the headlights reflected in the animals’ eyes, it stood perfectly still in the middle of the road. The brakes screamed and the car swerved to one side, narrowly missing a stunted tree. George bit his lip so hard he could taste the blood, clenching tightly to the steering wheel. It was over in a split second and the kangaroo jumped unharmed aside into the darkness.

- My God, that was close!

Once again, he maneuvered the car back onto the road and cut back to a slower speed. Caution was needed, that was too close for words. He had forgotten all about his passenger when the man began to mutter to himself in the backseat.

- Roadkill, roadkill, got to look out for roadkill.

Elsa woke.

- What is going on?

- Almost hit a kangaroo, its okey, jeez that was close!

It was after about twenty minutes that to George seemed like an eternity, flickering lights in the distance caught his attention.

- Hawker?

- Finally! Thank God. Better late than never.

An enormous feeling of relief came over him. Soon they would be safe in a town where there were people around them and a comfortable, safe, bed. The lights grew stronger and soon they were driving down the main street of Hawker. George pulled up beside the flickering lights of the “Hawker Motel.”

- Well, that’s it! We finally made it!

He turned around and looked at the backseat. It was empty, the man was gone. He leaned over thinking he must have fallen on the floor, but there was nobody there. All that was left was a putrid odour, an odd, damp smell of decay. Did he really pick up a hitchhiker or was it something he had imagined?

“Am I going mad?” he thought. Panic and confusion washed over him like a cold wave.

- Are you all right?

He heard the reassuring voice of Elsa who could see he was obviously distraught.

- Where is our hitchhiker?

George was in a near state of panic. What the hell was going on?

- Let’s get our luggage, I need a drink.

George got out of the car and entered the motel lobby. The man behind the desk looked at him clenching his bag tightly to his chest. His hair was wet and dishevelled.

- Hell of a night, he drawled. Are you all right?

- Well, sort of. I mean no, I’m not all right.

The man pushed up his glasses on his head and leaned forward.

- What’s happened?

George paused for a minute. He really did not want this man to think he was crazy or there was something wrong with him, but he just had to tell someone.

- I picked up a hitchhiker on the road and when we got here, he was no longer in the car! We did not STOP anywhere. He could not have gotten out. He just disappeared. I swear to God that’s what happened. I think I must be going crazy.

The man stared at him; a smile began to form on his face.

- Oh, don’t worry. That was old Luther. He does that sometimes, hitchhikes along this road. We call him the Phantom Hitchhiker; you see he was killed on the road many years ago, hit and run, and it seems his spirit never moved on.

Elsa came in and put down her bag beside George.

- I am so glad we got here. It’s been a long night. By the way, what is that smell in the car?

George turned to the man behind the counter who was still looking at him with that curious smile on his face.

- Oh, I’ll tell you all about it later…. It’s been a long drive.