It's one of those nights that isn't supposed to happen as Jeff drives from Palmdale to the San Fernando valley and on to his home in Sherman Oaks, California. Having visited a friend, a girl, well... a girlfriend, Jeff had to get home and get some sleep before work tomorrow. He hated the drive, but he was a little crazy about Gloria. Driving past Acton, he lost his radio station as it started to rain. Even though he always tried, he knew as he turned the dial that all he'd get is static. Still, he gave the dial a turn, a twist and a frustrated shove. Someone once said: "it never rains in Southern California!" Tonight, once again, they were proven wrong as the torrent pounded his windshield.

"BOOM-KE-RA-ACK" Jeff jumps at the unexpected explosion, in a second, he turns to look. In a second, glass and rain rush in the back of his truck. There's no traffic, Jeff pulls to the shoulder of the Antelope Valley Freeway, trying to figure out what happened, trying to figure out what to do. Reaching in the cab of his pick-up, he pulls out a plastic bag, trying to jerry-rig-it to keep the rain out. He hops back into the truck, starts the engine and as he's about to drive off, sees a beautiful, teen age girl standing in front of his headlights.

He's tired, he's wet, she's dazzling, she's young... Jeff jumps out of the truck and finds himself asking her if she needs a lift, a ride. The comely lass doesn't answer, she just stands there, wet and shivering. The rain keeps falling, they keep getting wet. "RA-BA-BA-BOOM" a sliver of thunder crackles against the black, starless sky. Jeff stares for another minute, asking: "you all right?" He looks around and asks: "car trouble, an accident?" Still the young waif doesn't answer, doesn't motion, doesn't even blink; she just stands there, gets wet and shivers. "Shit" he mutters: "Look miss, if you need a ride, hop in... otherwise, I'm going!" Still nothing, no reaction. And Jeff feels certain that the poor kid must have been in an accident: "She must be in shock" he reasons.

Sliding an arm around his charge, Jeff guides the girl into his truck. They drive off and for several minutes, they sit in total silence. He looks at her, she looks out the windshield. He tries to get her to talk, she stares blindly, she stares at the nothingness before them.

Jeff: "er, you live 'round here?"

The girl:

Jeff: "you still with your folks?"

The girl:

Jeff: "you look a little young to be out here by yourself, anybody with you?"

The girl:

Jeff: "are you okay?" "Can you hear me?"

The girl:

Relieved, Jeff sees a few lights off in the distance. "I can drop you off up ahead" he offers. Still the girl doesn't react. Because of the broken window, Jeff has had to shout. Passing another exit, he realizes that his best move will be to drop her at the restaurant/gas station. She'll be warm and safe, and if there's a problem, surely they'll call the cops; he thinks: God, this was a mistake. The noise from the broken window is irritating, the silence from this girl is even more irritating. They pass another dimly lit exit to nowhere, they pass in silence. The girl still and staring at the empty night before them.

Jeff: "they have plenty of hot coffee and good food up ahead."

The girl:

Jeff: "so, er, um... look if you don't have anything, well, maybe I could, ah, treat you to something?"

The girl:

Jeff: "you, a, you got a name?"

The girl:

The monologue wasn't getting him anywhere, Jeff decided to get rid of his passenger as soon as possible. Jeff felt vaguely, indescribably uneasy. As the street lighting got better, he looked at her, at her arm, her hand, her blood stained pants leg. "Blood stained pants leg" he screamed in silence. Not knowing whether to ask if she was all right or what (it could agitate her). Jeff decided to take her to the restaurant and call 911. Something was really wrong here, he was sure of that.

Jeff pulled his red pick-up off on the next exit, turned left, drove over the freeway and pulled into the huge parking lot. "Well, we're here" he announced, trying to sound as cheerful as possible. Squeezing into a little parking space, he shut off his motor and looked at the girl. "You okay?" he asked, leaning towards her. "AAAGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH" the girl screamed as she pulled a large blood-stained butcher knife out from her right side and lunged at Jeff. Again and again, she stabbed at him, savagely cutting his hands, his arms, his chest! Again and again, she thrust her bloody knife in his chest, his stomach, his neck, his face, whatever was closest as he twisted and turned trying to protect himself. Jeff died after forty-seven (47) penetrations, but the girl didn't stop, she stabbed and stabbed, again and again, in his stomach until his intestines flowed out, in his crotch, again and again. The girl didn't stop screaming either: "AAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH" she screamed over and over until a couple of highway patrol officers opened the blood-spattered cab and found her, knife in hand (still stabbing what was left of Jeff) covered in blood and screaming!

The officers had to pull her out of the truck, they had to pry the knife out of her hand, and later, a doctor had to sedate her to get her to quit screaming. No-one knows who she was, no-one knows where she is. You see, some days ago, they say she escaped from the state hospital. Maybe she's heading home... hitch-hiking on some freeway. "Give a poor, young girl a ride, mister?"

Created: October 29, 1999r.
Last Updated: May 23, 2005r.