Books by John Schembra

The Hitchhiker

I should have listened to my father.  He warned me years ago to beware of hitchhikers.  He said there are a lot of crazy, violent people prowling our roads preying on people.  I should have listened.  If I had, I wouldn’t find myself in this predicament.

It was hard to breathe.  The four wraps of duct tape he had put around my mouth kept me from making any noise, but it also forced me to breathe through my broken nose.  I was OK as long as I didn’t try to take too deep a breath.  The bleeding stopped some time ago and the swelling wasn’t too bad and I kept telling myself, breathe slow and regular, try to stay calm. 

My nose hurt like hell.  He had hit me, hard, all of a sudden.  I never expected it and never saw it coming. I must have lost consciousness because the next thing I knew, I was in the trunk with my arms taped up behind me and my legs taped at the knees and ankles. 

I don’t know how long I had been unconscious. It could have been an hour, several hours or a few minutes. It was pitch dark and dirty and cramped in here.  It was musty and smelled of motor oil. My legs were cramping from the awkward position I was in and I was unable to straighten them out.  I would just have to bear the pain until they un-cramped by themselves.

I could hear music playing softly on the car radio, and the ride up to this point was smooth.  I had no idea where we were or where we were going, and I was scared to death.  Fear of the unknown was wreaking havoc with my mind. I could only imagine what my fate would be and it was making me crazy.

I had been trying to loosen my arms for the last twenty minutes or so without success. The duct tape was wrapped tightly, apparently several times, and there was no slack.  My hands were getting numb because of it.  I was tiring from the effort and my arms ached from the struggle.  I figured I better rest for a bit before I became incapacitated.

I felt the car slow down, then turn.  It began to bump and bounce a bit, and the sound of the tires rolling over the road changed.  I think we had turned onto a dirt road.  I don’t know how long we drove, twisting, turning, bouncing.  It seemed to be at least fifteen minutes but my time estimate was difficult without any reference points.

The car began slowing and gradually came to a stop.  No light filtered into the trunk, so that told me it was still night time.  It was just dusk when I first saw him so I had no idea how long we had been driving.

I heard the car door open and someone get out.  Footsteps crunched on gravel as they receded, then echoed off a wooden step or porch.  Keys rattled and a few moments later I heard a door open, then close. I dared not make a sound and since I didn’t hear any traffic noise or any other sounds, I was pretty sure he had taken me to an isolated area outside the city.  I waited, listening but heard nothing else and after a while I found it hard to stay awake.  I had been up since early in the morning and it had to be at least sixteen hours since I awoke.  In spite of trying my best to stay awake I fell asleep, regardless of my fear and pain and my cramped position.

I don’t know how long I slept when I was suddenly awakened by someone pounding on the trunk.

“Wake up,” a man’s voiced shouted.  I heard a key slide into the trunk lock and the click as he turned it. The trunk opened and I was blinded by the sudden light.  After being in total darkness for so many hours I knew it would take a couple of minutes until my eyes could adjust.  I was aware of a shadow partially blocking the light as it seemed to be moving toward me.  I felt the cold steel of a knife on my cheek and flinched involuntarily.

“Nice knife, very sharp” he said.  “A present from someone, or did you buy it yourself? Hold still, or you’ll get a nasty cut,” he said as he began working the blade between my cheek and the duct tape.  After a minute or so, he had worked the blade all the way down the tape, twisted it until the back was against my face and quickly cut the tape around my mouth.  Grabbing one end, he yanked it from around my head, tearing some skin and hair off with it.  I yelped in pain and he chuckled.

“Just the beginning my friend, just the beginning.  You thirsty? Hungry? Open your mouth,” he said.  My eyes were adapting to the light and I could see a black silhouette against the bright sky.  He seemed to be holding a canteen in his hand, reaching out toward me.  I opened my mouth and he poured the contents into it.  Cool, fresh water!  I gulped quickly, afraid he would stop pouring before I could get enough.  He let me drink what seemed a quart, then pulled the canteen away.  He poured the rest of it over my head, washing away some of the blood from my damaged nose.  It felt good, refreshing. I closed my eyes and let it run over me.

“Open your mouth,” he said again.  I did, expecting more water, but something hard and salty dropped into it.  I bit down and tasted nuts and raisins.  He had given me an energy bar.  Again, I quickly crunched it up, chewed and swallowed.  Once it was gone, I felt water pouring on my face and opened my mouth, gulping more of the precious liquid.

“That’s enough for now,” he said.  He grabbed my hair and lifted my head up and quickly wrapped more duct tape around my mouth.  “I’ll be back,” he said.  He backed away from the trunk and slammed it shut, cutting off the light.  Small amounts leaked in from around the edges so it wasn’t pitch black any more.  I closed my eyes and laid my head down, thinking I would rest a bit before again trying to loosen my bonds.  I started to feel sleepy and found it hard to focus.  The pain in my arms was constant and persistent from being taped behind me.  I tried to roll on my side to take some of the pressure off with a bit of success.  At least some of the blood flow was restored and the pain eased off a little.

I must have fallen asleep again.  I was still a bit dizzy and disoriented when I woke to the sound of the engine starting up.  The car began to move, bumping down the road. My body was aching after being crammed into the trunk for so long. As near as I could tell, it had been at least a day since he put me in here.  My muscles were cramping up again.  I tried to move around as much as I could to relieve the pain and it helped a bit, though it didn’t stop the cramps entirely.  I wondered if he had drugged me as I had one hell of a hangover after I drank the water.

We drove for what seemed at least an hour, making turns and bouncing over the uneven road.  I desperately needed to pee.  I tried to hold it as long as I could, but it had been too long and nature had to take its course.  I couldn’t stop it and urinated on myself. 

I couldn’t figure out why he had attacked me.  I had done nothing to threaten him.  In fact, I was friendly to him as we rode along, chatting him up and talking about myself and my life.  He was quiet during the ride, not saying much other than his name was Roy. He didn’t tell me anything about himself and he didn’t seem irritated with my talking.

He didn’t respond to my questions about him, not saying where he was from or anything about his past and his family.  He appeared to be in his mid forties and seemed to be in decent shape.  Not slim, but not heavy, just solid.  He had several days growth of beard.  His hair was dark with just a touch of gray.  I remember he was wearing a denim jacket and jeans, and had a dark long sleeve shirt underneath the coat. 

We had been driving for a couple of hours along the highway, making good time and had left the city and its surrounding towns.  After a quick stop at a highway rest area for a bathroom break and to buy a couple of sodas we got back in the car and started driving again. We were driving through hills thickly covered by a forest.  I could hear crows calling out their loud caws as we traveled.  It always seemed to me they were complaining about something.  There was an occasional farm house or service station, but otherwise it was a pretty deserted area.  I was watching the scenery when he hit me.  I don’t know why he did that, but I had the feeling this would not end well.

I renewed my efforts to loosen the tape around my hands, again without any success, and soon stopped trying as the effort just increased the frequency of the cramps.  A wave of hopelessness washed over me and I began to weep softly.  I was afraid to make any noise that he might hear, fearing he would do something about it.  Not that I could make much noise.  The duct tape around my mouth prevented that pretty efficiently, but still, I tried to be as quiet as I could.

We drove another few minutes when I heard him talking to someone.  This puzzled me as I was pretty sure we hadn’t picked anyone up along the way.  I listened but couldn’t hear what he was saying.  It was just an intelligible mumbling, but he clearly was talking to someone.  I would hear him, then there would be silence, then he would speak again, then more silence.   He was having a conversation with someone and I strained to hear what was being said.  I caught a word now and then, but not enough to understand what they were talking about. It dawned on me that he was probably on a cell phone.

I heard a louder word, “OK,” then “I will,” and nothing more after that.  He was done and had disconnected the call.  A few minutes after that, the car again began slowing, coming to a gentle stop.  He left the engine running and I heard him open the door and get out, slamming it closed.  A few seconds later the trunk lock clicked and he opened it, once again allowing the bright sunlight to flow in and I squinted to relieve the pain in my eyes from the light.

I felt him grab my shirt and yank me up and out of the trunk.  I fell to the ground, hard, bruising my shoulder and side, knocking the wind out of me.  I lay on my injured side in the dirt for a few moments, trying to catch my breath.  It was difficult since I could only breathe through my nose and the deep breaths caused my broken nose to start bleeding again.  I saw him squat down next to me and roll me onto my back.

Looking around, I saw he had parked in a thick forest off the road.  I didn’t know how far in he had driven, but the lack of any traffic noise suggested it was some distance from any road.

“Hey, scumbag, how ya doin?” he said.  He stood up and kicked me, hard, in the ribs, again knocking the wind out of me.  He kicked me a second time and I felt a couple of my ribs break.  The pain was almost unbearable and I couldn’t get enough air.  Each time I tried to take a deep breath the pain in my ribs flared, like someone was poking a red hot knife into my side.  I was near to losing consciousness from the pain and lack of breath.  Sounds began to fade and my vision dimmed.  I closed my eyes and tried to breathe.

I could hear him shouting at me “wake up, wake up,” and felt him shaking me, slapping my face hard. My lip began bleeding and my face stung.  He poured water on my head, cold water, shocking me awake.  I looked up at him and saw him standing over me, grinning.  “Good, you’re awake.”  He cut the tape around my legs and ankles and pulled me into a sitting position.  I straightened my legs for the first time in at least two days causing bolts of pain to shoot through them.  I looked at him and saw a syringe in his hand and my heart fluttered in fear.  I knew for sure now that he had drugged me earlier.  He leaned over me and I felt the needle slide into the side of my neck, then a coldness at the injection site as he depressed the plunger.

The pain hit like a thunderbolt, sending waves of agony through my body.  I vomited down the front of my shirt and my muscles started quivering.  They began to cramp up and breathing was hard. The pain was nearly unbearable and my vision was blurred.  I tried to get up but my muscles would not respond.  “Why are you doing this,” I gasped weakly. He stood up and said, “You know why, don’t you?” The last thing I saw as consciousness faded was him standing over me, smiling.

Sometime later I woke up, disoriented and groggy, feeling nauseous.  I was back in the trunk of the car and we were on the move. I slowly remembered him drugging me, and as I tried to turn over felt a sharp pain in my side.  I recalled he had kicked me in the side and I knew at least one rib was broken.  I tried to regulate my breathing to minimize the pain but it was difficult with the fear and adrenaline coursing through me.

The car was moving at what seemed to be a slow speed, again bumping over the uneven roadway.  What little light leaked in the trunk told me it was still daylight.  After a few more minutes, the car came to a stop and the trunk was opened.  Roy was standing there with my knife in his hand.  He reached in and grabbed me by the front of my shirt and pulled me out of the trunk, again letting me fall to the ground.  The pain in my ribs was terrible and I almost blacked out.  He dragged me off the road to a stand of trees, placing me next to the largest one.  He cut the tape on my legs and put me up against the tree in a sitting position.  Going behind me, he cut the tape on my wrists and quickly pulled my arms around the tree behind my back, tying them tightly with what felt like nylon rope.  He then taped my legs together again at the knees and ankles and tied a longer piece of rope to my ankles.  The rope was then tied to a tree several feet in front of me keeping me from bending my legs.