The

Escaped
Man
by: C.T. Platt
The rain was falling heavily. It was like driving through a thick curtain of
water. He eased off the accelerator a little. Had to be careful on wild nights
like this. The last thing you want is to have an accident or a breakdown.

You just want to be at home on these stormy nights. The "thwack-thwack" of

Through the wash of the rain, he spotted a figure at the side of the road.

The person wore a green parka and had his thumb jerked out. Why on
Earth would anyone be hitchhiking tonight? Surely you would just stay put
until the morning. They must have been in a rush to get wherever they were
going. He signaled down and pulled over. The hitchhiker climbed in. He shut
the door quickly, glad to be out of the rain.
He pulled his hood back and sighed. He had to be in his mid- twenties, he
had wild red hair and a thick beard.

"Awful night, eh?" Said the driver. The hitchhiker held his gaze for a long
moment.

"Yes. Yes it is.“

The driver pulled out and continued through the storm. The hitcher craned
his around and gazed into the blackness behind them. The driver looked at
him.

"You okay?“

The hitcher simply nodded. They drove on in silence for a while. The BBC
radio phone-in blared from the car's speakers, filling in for conversation.
They listened to the radio and their own thoughts as they moved on.

"Where are you headed?" Asked the driver.

"North." The hitcher pointed in the direction he spoke of.

"Are you traveling to visit friends?"

"Hmph."

The driver couldn't tell if that was a yes or a no. He adjusted his tie
nervously. The hitcher stared at him in his suit and tie. The hitcher seemed
scruffy in comparison, dressed in his weathered green parka and a Pink
Floyd T-shirt.

"Do you work around here," asked the hitcher.

"No. Not really."

Again they drifted into silence.

The talk radio show carried on as they drove through the wind and rain. The
hitcher shifted in his seat and stared out the windscreen.

"No music?" The hitcher asked.

"What?“

"Is there no music we could listen to?“

"I-I'm not really a music fan. I like the talk radio shows."
The hitcher's eyes glazed over for a moment. Then he spoke.

"I like listening to music. It calms me down."

The driver said nothing. Several miles later, there was a news bulletin on
the radio. The reporter tried to remain professional as she read the
announcement.

"We are getting reports that a man has escaped from a Manchester
psychiatric institution. The man is said to be psychopathic and is said to
have a history of murder."

The hitcher jabbed a finger at the button on the radio panel. Tinny pop
music blared out from the speakers. The driver stared, at his passenger, his
question unasked.
"I hate the news," said the hitcher. "It's so depressing, it brings me down.
There is never any good news, is there?"

The driver did not speak.

"Don't worry, I'm probably not the killer," the hitcher said, fidgeting with his
coat.

"No?" Said the driver. "I mean, no, of course you're not."

They drove on, listening to the crappy pop music and the overexcited radio
DJ's. The rain pounded on the car.

"What do you do for a living?" Asked the driver. The hitcher was quiet for a
moment. Then he grinned.
"I'm a writer.“

"Really? How interesting. Have you had anything published?“

"No, as of yet I am an undiscovered artist.“

"I'm sure you will make it. What are you working on right now?“

"A book.“

"....yes?“

"It's about a brutal serial killer.“

The driver did not speak. He flicked the talk radio station back on. A man was
rambling on with himself about the change in days his trash bins were emptied.
"Where can I drop you?" Asked the driver.

The hitcher said nothing. When the driver glanced round, he found his passenger
had his eyes closed. He was either asleep, or feigning slumber. They drove on
through the storm down the snaking lanes. An hour later, the storm still raged.
The hitcher look out the window, the driver steered carefully in silence.

Another news bulletin came on the radio.

"We're getting more information on the escaped patient. The killer's name is
Simon Hughes. He escaped from the Green Pastures Institute earlier this
evening. He is extremely dangerous and completely unpredictable. Hughes
made his escape by changing from his hospital-issue uniform into business attire
to masquerade as one of the medical staff. He then stole a car and drove off.”
The hitcher turned to the driver.

"What did you say your name was?“

"My name is Simon.“

The hitcher stared in shock. Simon grinned. The headlights of a passing

End of Story