The Dusty Road

[lieutenant]

Written for this prompt:

We're not supposed to pick up hitch-hikers because they may be serial killers. However, serial killers often pick up and kill hitch-hikers. Therefore, has a serial killer ever picked up another serial killer, and did they become best friends?

Read and Find Out.



Chapter 1



"Listen, rookie, you've got to vary your method," Benjamin watched him with eagle eyes, "I've picked you up three times. Same scam every time."


"No," Christopher blurted. He was hunched over the table by the wall, watching the older man back.


"Sure, that second time you were stumbling away from the wreck, bleeding like a stuck little pig."


"I got him." Christopher looked down and scratched at the table top.


"He almost got you. If I hadn't happened down that access road just then, you'd never have made it back to the main highway. Ignominious end to a career like yours." Benjamin kicked off his shoes. They fell off the end of the motel bed to the floor. He stretched his arms.


"Nice of you to help yourself to my dumpsite before you took me back to town," Christopher snapped his head around, stared with dark ringed eyes at the man lounging on the bed. He spoke like he'd thought of a great comeback.


"Nice of me to fix you up. Do you think the guy at that motel wouldn't have noticed the blood leaking out of the trunk? I don't think you wanted to get pinched because I rushed you back to civilisation before taking care of MY little job. Worked out nice that they were about the same age. Made it look like they'd been riding together, but then, you DO have a type, don't you?" He smirked and pulled his shirt off, dropping it on the bed beside him.


"You've picked ME up three times. The twink thing must work," He wrapped his arms around his thin frame as he said this, hands hidden in the ends of his oversized hoodie. He sat on the end of the bed and tweaked Benjamin's toes through his white athletic socks.


"I picked you up tonight because I knew that skanky-ass walk when I saw it going down the shoulder." He brushed the young man's hand away with his other foot.


Christopher smiled brightly, "It looks skanky?"


Benjamin leaned up and took Christopher's hand. "You look like the nastiest, loosest piece of trash that ever lived." He growled, drawing him onto his lap. "Makes me want you so," He kissed the skinny neck, "Damn," Christopher stretched out full length over him, barely any weight to him, "Much." Benjamin grabbed his ass in both hands and pushed his tongue into the boy's mouth. "You try anything and I will hurt you so fucking bad," he growled.

[lieutenant]

Chapter 2



The next time he saw Christopher, Benjamin was prowling the stretch of highway between Maybury and Springfield. The boy was walking down the road, hips swaying, holding a piece of cardboard with girly handwriting that said 'Take me anywhere you want as long as it's away from here." He didn't even think about pulling over. He turned off at the next junction. They couldn't hunt the same piece of road. It would make the game too dangerous for both of them. Besides, hunters who couldn't adapt didn't survive. The idiot was 500 miles from where Benjamin had picked him up the first time, but he was still pulling the twink scam. It didn't take the cops too many tries to put things like that together.


That first time...



--



Tom Jones blasted from the old pickup's remaining speaker. Benjamin scratched at his chin. The scraggly beard was itchy, but it made him look about 45. He was really 25. He'd screamed along with rage metal all the drive the night before, and his voice sounded like a rock crusher, today. He'd dumped a neat double shot of whiskey on the center of the bench seat this morning, and burned an entire pack of cigarettes in a bucket, filters and all, in here a week ago to get that old cigarette smell in what had been, when he'd picked it up for cash, in a totally different disguise, a pretty well taken care of truck.


It was about 9pm, and he had been cruising the highway network since morning. There were always some hitch-bitches around the big junctions. A couple miles outside the truck stops was best. The kids got dropped by too trusting families at the truck stops near the junctions and, figuring it would be just as easy to get a ride while they made some miles, they started walking. There was always at least one under the first big tree next to the road. At some junctions the first shelter was an underpass, but you had to be careful, there. Hobos remembered familiar faces, beards and different cars or not. Benjamin drove on by anytime there were hobos near the kids.


Pickings had been slim today, and lots of damn hobos everywhere.


Maybe he would get lucky and he'd come across an isolated breakdown. They were his favorite. He passed on most of them, because it would be too easy to get greedy and stop more and more.


He nearly drooled at the thought of people so distracted and distressed they were willing to accept a ride with a total stranger 'just a mile or two.' They were always so busy telling him how they were never so irresponsible with their car that they never saw the brake check coming. The seatbelt on the passenger side always had the safety disengaged before he ever set foot in the driver's side, and the broken nose softened them up nicely for compliance when they felt the knife point in their ribs.


Then they drove somewhere quiet.


So Benjamin could hear the whimpers clearly.


Breakdowns were too easy.


Highway hunters got caught falling for easy.


He was, himself, so distracted by the thought of desperate people that he nearly missed the one on the side of the road in front of him. It was so dark out here he didn't see the swinging walk in the headlights until he was nearly past him. The short shorts and the tank top, even in today's cool weather. This kid knew what he was offering. Or thought he did. Benjamin chuckled and pulled over.


He slammed the truck into reverse and sped back towards the dirty blonde teenager. The boy froze as the tail lights roared back at him, afraid he would be struck. "No, sweetie, not like that, you wouldn't squeal enough if I just backed over you." He turned as the boy took several running steps off the shoulder, into the ditch.


"Sorry 'bout that! Don't know my own speed." He yelled out the open passenger door. "Come on, I'll take you where you want to go."


The boy stood outside the open door, hesitating, like he was psyching himself up. "How do you know you're going where I want to go?"


The funnest part was being who they thought they wanted him to be. He leered up and down, eyes lingering on the short shorts and the little strip of skin that revealed his happy trail between the shorts and his tank top. He might have to hurry, this boy looked like a go-getter and Benjamin couldn't afford to have his DNA on any part of the kid. "Dressed like that, boy, I think you want to be taken anywhere that's not here."


He nodded and climbed up in the truck. "Yeah, take me anywhere you want, as long as it's away from here."


Benjamin chuckled lecherously. Stupid thing to say, kid. "So," he asked, "What kind of music do you like?"


"Not old stuff like this," he said, and then seemed to realize he'd been insulting. "I mean, I like different old stuff."


Benjamin didn't like this, either, it was part of the act.


"I like that song, Horse With No Name."


"We have something in common. What's your name, kid?"


"Seth."


That screamed Fake Name. Well, he wouldn't be out here, doing this with his real name, would he?


"I'm Kyle. Check the glove box, Seth."


Seth pulled out an album by America, Horse With No Name. He removed the Tom Jones cassette from the player and pushed in the America tape. He put the Tom Jones cassette in the America case. Benjamin winced. That was obviously the wrong case, now the cassettes would be all mixed up. It doesn't matter, he reminded himself, once he was done with this kid, he was ditching the truck, cassettes and all.


The blonde started what he obviously thought was a proper show of gratitude for being picked up in the middle of the night. He ran his hands over his bare legs and under the hem of his tank top, jiving along with the song and singing breathily. It took all Benjamin's self-control not to roll his eyes and scream. Do you know what an idiot you look? Why aren't you doing something with your life? Career advice at this point would be throwing good money after bad. Seth or whatever his real name was would never have time to take it to heart; this night was what his decisions had led to. It made Benjamin feel a little justified, but also a little annoyed.


Seth leaned over and sang softly into Benjamin's ear, paraphrasing the song into a filthy parody of itself. Benjamin reached behind the seat and slowly pulled the pistol from just between the headrest and the back of the cab.


Just then he felt something poking his side. It had a distinctly knife blade feel about it.


"Don't try anything," Seth hissed, "keep driving. Take the next right."


A smile curled Benjamin's lips as he looked down at the boy leaning over the seat with a knife to Benjamin's belly. He was at the edge of his seatbelt's range. He thought.


Benjamin turned up the quiet road on the next right. This kid knew the area, nice. Well that would work to his disadvantage tonight.


He drove, occasionally sputtering something that would seem like a desperate attempt to save himself. He offered Seth all the money in his wallet. He offered him the truck. It was hard to keep from laughing. They had been bumping along at a pretty good clip. It looked like they were coming to the end of the road. Benjamin raised the speed a bit.


Then he slammed on the brakes.


Seth's seatbelt yarded out as the boy flew sidelong into the dashboard. He'd been braced, but expecting the seatbelt to catch him. Benjamin had the gun in his face before he even had time to realize what happened. He put his boot over where the knife lay, so the boy couldn't grab it again. "Nice work, rookie, guess we have more in common than we thought," he growled. "Would have worked on anyone but another hunter. Last mistake. Get your sloppy ass out of the truck. We're going for a walk."


The man who looked up from the floor of the truck was no little teenage twink. Benjamin could see the killer in his eyes, now. He was watching fearlessly and calculating. He scrunched back to the door of the truck and felt for the handle.


"If you run, you get one in the back. Go stand 10 feet off the left headlight." Benjamin instructed.


"You're going to kill me anyway," the boy growled.


"You obviously don't believe that. So buy yourself some time. Do what you're told."


Seth backed out the truck door, sidled around it and stood where Benjamin could see him easily. Benjamin climbed out of the truck, picking the knife out of the foot well without taking his eyes, or the gun, off the young man. "Put your hands on the back of your head, Seth. Turn around and walk. The end of the road is up here a little bit, isn't it? We're going to do it there."


The blonde shivered visibly when he said this.


"You been hunting long, rookie?" He asked. As they walked, he kept 10 feet behind the other hunter.


"No, I've never, please, I've never even had sex, my friend just told me it would be a good way to get a ride," he whimpered.


"Shut the fuck up with that. You move like your legs have been over your head all your life. How long."


"Please, mister," he said. There was no conviction in it now, though.


"Obviously you're new, because you didn't check the seatbelt before you got in. You're not going to get old, rookie. Guy like me has been around. You vary your method, you never let them touch you, and you never trust anyone. Kneel down, keep your hands on your head." The young man knelt, head held high, Benjamin was expecting another false show of innocence, or maybe an offer, if he was a real idiot and hadn't seen Benjamin was disgusted by his whore act. Wasn't going to fall for his whore act, anyway. He was actually sort of intrigued with the proud young highway hunter act.


"Are you angry because I'm on your stretch?" He asked Benjamin, voice quiet, genuinely scared, now.


"I don't have a stretch. Keep moving. They catch the idiots who claim a stretch. That's asking for a name. You get a name, you get a rep, that's it. They find you. Count to 100."


There was a little hesitant pause and then the counting.


Benjamin backed up, and when he was far enough away, turned and sprinted for the truck.


The ultimate no-no was killing other hunters. The cops found the bodies, tied them to the murders, then they found evidence, started tying them to your murders, and pretty soon, they knew everything about you. He tore off down the road. So, St Louis was off the map for him. He found himself thinking of a proud blonde hunter, and humming Horse With No Name under his breath.

[lieutenant]

Chapter 3



The second time he'd seen Christopher, he'd just killed.


Benjamin's kill had gone to shit and he'd had to run the guy down. He fucking hated that. He was pissed, the body was bleeding into the trunk and this car was going to have to burn.


He was driving down his chosen access road when he saw a figure stumbling the other direction. He had a heart wrenching moment of fear that he'd been caught, before realizing this was someone in real distress coming up the road. Fucking bystanders. He'd have to turn around and find some other goddamn dump site.


Then he caught sight of the face.


St Louis. Sean or Seth or some made-up name a kid from the 90's would imagine made him sound badass.


Badass, instead of anonymous. Idiot.


He was still around, apparently not for much longer, he had a big bloodstain on his side. Someone had gotten the better of him.


The rookie saw the car and started waving, to flag down help, but his hand stopped mid-wave when his eyes met Benjamin's. Panic flared in them and he turned to run. Shit. The kid could barely walk, let alone run.


He'd fucking wrecked Benjamin's dumpsite, and now he was going to die in the road. When they found the kid dead, the cops were going to be real unfriendly when three bodies from two unrelated crimes showed up dumped in the same area on the same day. Benjamin's victim was obviously a gunshot wound and this kid's victim and the kid had knife wounds. He pulled up next to the kid, who couldn't really get off the road due to the brambles.


"I fucking told you someone was going to get you, you little bastard. Is your target up the road somewhere coming after you, where the fuck is your get away?" He snarled out the window.


"I had to ditch the car, I couldn't get him in it like this!" He screamed back, pointing at the stab wound in his side. "Get out of here, you're going to draw attention!"


He had to ditch the car. Benjamin smiled. He hit the gas and sped up the road. Sure enough, the rookie's victim was sprawled just outside a parked car, which was in pristine condition. Benjamin parked his own car.


He got out, and checked the unbloodied car, found the spare keys in a magnetic case under the wheel well. He pulled the kid's victim to the car he'd brought, squashing him in the trunk as well, tossed the wiped gun in with the two bodies, and set up a little fire. He carried an innocent seeming shaving kit in his bag for occasions like this, it was really an arson kit. The whole kit had to be burned as well, but he'd make a new one before his next day out.


He started the fresh car and drove calmly down the road. The fire would have started burning along the gas tank by now. He came upon the rookie still hobbling along towards the main road. He stopped and pushed open the passenger side door, again. "Get in, rookie, before you get me caught."


He checked them into a motel, using one of the kid's fake ID's to do it.


The knife wound was straight, and deep. The victim had just stuck him and pulled the blade back out. Obviously not a fighter.


Benjamin leaned over the stretched out rookie and stitched the wound. The kid was cleaner today, he obviously hadn't been walking so long before getting picked up, and with his shirt and pants off, lying in only his socks and shorts, he had a skinny, but powerful body. He'd put on weight since the last time Benjamin had seen him. Eating better, though still playing the twink. His skin was soft under Benjamin's fingers and he ignored the stitching like he was used to pain. He had a few good scars. One, which went down the front of his hip in jagged waves, Benjamin could barely stop himself from tracking with his fingers.


A soft touch brushed Benjamin's side, where leaning over the prone killer had caused his shirt to come up, revealing one of his own old failures. That hadn't been as disastrous as either of theirs today, though, just a good cut gotten in by a guy who really hadn't stood a chance against Benjamin's broader, heavier form and fighting experience. The young blonde's eyes were on his. At least some part of his twink persona was based on his own, because he looked down, shyly when Benjamin looked up. Some part of Benjamin's body ticked.


He recognized it for the warning sign it was and sat up. "Get out. We're both leaving."


"Where are we going?"


"You're going away, and it's none of your fucking business where I'm going." He dropped the keys to the car of the rookie's victim on the floor and stole the kid's shoes on the way out. That would slow him down enough for Benjamin to steal a car and be gone before he could be tracked.


The damn kid had ruined New Orleans for him, too.

[lieutenant]

Chapter 4



The third time, he's seen him coming a mile away, literally. Those swinging hips were familiar by now, slinking down the road. Benjamin had his hair cut short for once, in a crew cut, and his face clean shaven. He was in a Toyota Corolla, the beige one, with a gym bag in the back like a college kid headed home for the weekend. He was 27 now. He pulled alongside and rolled down the electric window. Today his voice was smooth, and a little high, making him seem more innocent, he hadn't gargled rocks this time, it was nearly his actual voice. "Hey, where are you going?"



"Anywhere but here," The rookie turned with a sultry smile, which took on a genuine aspect when he took in the handsome young green eyed blonde in the car. Then his eyes went wide as he recognized Benjamin. "Kyle?"



Kyle?



Oh, his alias.



He hadn't used that one since right after that.



"I go by Tyler, now."



He nodded, and kept walking, looking in at Benjamin, who cruised along beside him, matching his speed. Then he looked up. "My name is Christopher." That sounded almost true. "Do you want to go somewhere?"



Benjamin stopped and pushed the passenger side door open. "I know a place we can go."



He drove them to a little motel.



--



Christopher fell asleep after, face on Benjamin's chest.



Benjamin stroked his hand down the younger man's back, retracing all the scars he'd spent the afternoon memorizing. He wanted to know the story behind every one of them, but he wasn't going to ask. He should get up. He should go, so Christopher, god, that couldn't be the kid's real name, could it? couldn't track him.



He paused when the rookie stirred on his chest and pulled himself stealthily free. Benjamin's eyes had adjusted to the dark, the rookie's hadn't; yet he moved silently in the dark room, unable to see Benjamin's eyes on him, picked up his clothing and slipped out the door.


Benjamin could hear him getting dressed on the walkway outside, and then walking away quickly to the north. He stretched his arms in satisfaction. Maybe the kid was learning some survival traits after all.



--



6 weeks after the time he passed him on the shoulder, Benjamin woke up in some shitty motel room with a knife to his throat. "It wasn't very nice of you not to offer me a ride." Christopher hissed in his ear.



Oh shit, Benjamin had time to think, and it wasn't a nice feeling- I'm going to die. Then there were lips against his lips and a hand down his shorts, and a body sliding under the covers beside his, and no death at all.



Christopher didn't sneak out, that time. He woke Benjamin with a kiss and another round of delicious pleasure.



"I think you're right. I need to vary my method," he told the older man, running his fingers over the scar on Benjamin's belly. "Or I won't get old."



"Mmmhmm," Benjamin hummed, "Vary your method, never let them touch you, never trust anyone, rules to live by."



Christopher rolled up and looked in his eyes. "Yeah."

[lieutenant]

Chapter 5



The police found the body they identified as Christopher Vickers outside St Louis a week later. He'd had his throat cut by one of his alleged johns. The name was an alias, but the picture was a golden curled, high schooler with braces and a huge, dorky grin, who'd very clearly grown up to be the little twink Benjamin had...met a few times.



He only cried that night because the radio kept playing such damn sad songs.



He rewarded himself for his fortitude by taking in a couple extra breakdowns.



He was outside Lakeside when he spotted a crappy jeep wrangler off the side of the road. There was a little guy with a muscle shirt and a backwards hat standing disconsolately beside it. Benjamin pulled over. Muscular, but didn't look like he knew a thing about fighting. "Need a hand? I know nothing about engines, but I'm buddies with the guy at the service station up the road. You need a ride?"



The little guy looked up. "You know a mechanic?"



Now that he'd been vouched for by the non-existent guy at the non-existent service station, he nodded. "Yeah, he'll be glad to help you out."



"Okay! C'mon Mark."



A guy came around the jeep, he must have been standing down in the ditch just by the front tire, because he'd been totally invisible until he stepped up out of the ditch.



This guy DID look like he knew how to fight. Crap, where WAS the nearest service station? He should just take off. Except that would look really suspicious now. Mark got in the back seat and scooted over behind Benjamin. The little guy got in front. Benjamin started down the road. He'd drop them off at the Shell the last town back and take off. Better start talking about how someone was waiting for him.



Before he could complain about his non-existent girlfriend always on him about being late, he felt the knife at his throat.



Shit.



--



Mark and Tiny had been doing great with the jeep scam. They'd been pulling on this stretch of road on and off again for a year and a half, scoring all sorts of great shit from the people they robbed. Almost no one ever fought back. Two guys had offered them weed. They sold that. Couldn't do the job if you were too dopey to see straight.



The road had been really empty today, though. It was hot and the one car that had passed hadn't even slowed down.



Finally a Toyota pulled over. A blonde guy with a crew cut and a college kid face smiled out at them. He offered Tiny a ride. He clearly thought a little guy like Tiny would be no risk. The smile fell off his face when all 6 feet of Mark came around the side of the jeep where he'd been crouched. In the shade, probably. He had the easy job, the bastard. It was too late for the guy to back out of helping them without seeming like a dick, so he said nothing as they got in the car with him. Social convention, doing their work for them. There was a laptop bag on the back seat and an ipod charger in the electrical outlet. This was going to be an okay score just on those things. A rich college kid was probably carrying 200$ worth of "emergency cash" too.



"Hey guys, want a Red Bull? I've got a whole case," He smiled and tapped the open can in the cup holder.



Mark and Tiny each took one, it was hot out there. It tasted so good. They finished the cans off before getting ready for the job.



"You know it's funny, I drive this road all the time and I've never seen you guys. You're obviously here a lot."



Tiny laughed. It was funny. Mark snickered, too.



"It seems like you guys have a real good thing going out here," the kid said.



Tiny frowned, he must have chugged that Red Bull too fast. It was upsetting his stomach.



"The thing is, though, you guys need to vary your methods. Same 'broken down jeep' scam all the time. It's easy to track things like that. Gets you caught. Gets you killed," he smiled pleasantly at Tiny, whose eyes had rolled back in his head. He was seizing and frothing at the mouth. Good, he hadn't been sure of the dosage of the poison he'd injected into the Red Bull cans. "This might have worked, but a guy like me has been around. You've got to keep moving." In the back seat, the same show was going on. It was sure a lot more hands off than the knife. "You vary your method. You never let them touch you. You never trust anyone." Varying his method had turned out to be a good thing, Christopher thought, turning off the road.



Christopher pulled up to the local boys' dump site. Where they'd dumped Benjamin's body the summer before. While Christopher was in hiding after faking his own death.


He pushed their bodies out and stood there, staring at them, before imparting his addition to Benjamin's rules.


"You never let anyone you can trust go without a fight."