The evening heat glares down at the red Arizona hills. My filthy white Mustang screams along the empty desert straight, the wheels throwing up enough dust to choke a camel. Ahead of me is a beautiful orange sunset. Behind me dark turbulent clouds. The storm is chasing me.  But I’m the only man on the road and more than happy to run from it at divine speeds in my American chariot.
The blue camel shrouds me in delicious rich smoke, hiding the greasy hair, the cracked glasses and the maniacs grin.  Christ knows how long I’ve been driving or where it is I’m driving to (the work of the empty bag of coke sliding around the passenger seat). I’m currently working on the second one, scooping up the white powder with a key and ramming it into my nose as quick as I can. The acid’s long gone but still, I see patterns flashing in the nothingness and the quick shot of smack at the hotel room makes the tough leather seat feel like a sinking sofa.  There’s enough gear running through this body to put me away but fuck it, there’s no police here, there’s no one. The thought alone makes me start cackling wildly and the storm responds with its own, thunderous laughter.
Most of the adult world would frown on this devils drive but stick any sane man in a meeting for 10 hours straight at some cheap southern hotel. Then offer him and his filing cabinet of narcotics a drive through the Sonoran and then see if he resists it.
I snort up one more key, slapping the dashboard as its fries my brains. Then crack a beer, slurp away the cool foam and toss it behind me with a clatter.
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Perhaps hours have passed but there’s no way for me to know, I haven’t taken my shoe-less foot off the pedal since.  Having become so engrossed with my speed that I swear I’ve become one with the motor.  I do know that 3 packs of camels have passed since then and my fingers begin twitching for another. I raise my head from the steering wheel. Over which I’d bent over emulating one of those NASCAR racers. I grope all over the glove compartment but only find the crumpled cartons.
It’s when I look up that I see something, the very first thing that’s not a cactus or a rock. But a tree, its branches leafless and withered. It casts a vast shadow that stretches onto the road. Standing in that shadow is a man. At least I think it’s a man, who knows, my bodies in that stage where it’s more than happy to lie to my eyes. I bring an empty beer up to my face trying to use it as a telescope but it only turns my vision foamy and green. Angry I smash it against the side of the car and then once again reach for the non-existent camels, curse and with a shout stamp down on the pedal. With a triumphant screech, we’re off.
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My brakes slam right next to the hitchhiker, throwing me forward along with the cluttering sound of empty bottles and loose drugs. The dust cloud I’ve built up catches up and smothers me in it. Spitting and thrashing I clean myself from it. The hitchhiker hasn’t said a word so far in this debacle, perhaps he’s afraid? But when I finally do see him it’s me who feels a dark fear.
He’s taller than any man should be, seven feet at least. With arms that look broken and stretch down past his knees. Sweats starts pouring down me as I stare at his fingers, long, so pale they show all the minute bones yet not a single vein and twitching ever so slightly. Calm yourself, I think, you’re just in a very deep well right now and you’re probably scaring the man to death. Sort yourself out.
So I do, with a quick dab of emergency speed on my gums I find the courage to look up at his face with a demented grin. I wish I hadn’t because there is no face, just a long bovine skull, dirty and covered in scraps of meat. There’s only blackness in the eyes, like of a deep at night.  I can’t even stutter out a word before he’s clambering into the back-seat. Rocking the car as he slouches down.
“W-w-here, are you headed?” I finally say, my throat drier than the desert around us from the tobacco, dust and mortal panic.
The figure does not speak, only points, it’s finger reaching past my ear, points forward.
We drive.
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After a while, I began to calm a little, convincing myself I’m only tripping is easy if I just don’t glance at him in the rear-view. The trouble is, my tiny panicked eyes can’t seem to do that and every time he glares right at me.  So, I do what I can, I drive. Like some demented cabbie, we fly across. My hands shake so bad we zig zag off and on the road and my mind flashes in and out of sanity. The passenger doesn’t seem to mind. Christ, I think I hear him chortle once or twice.
The faster we the go the more intense the journey grows. I grit my teeth against a tornado like wind, my eyes dry from the dust and my dry mouth prickling like a cactus. I feel myself getting heavy, lead flowing through my muscles. My fingers go numb, I feel my stomach churn and brown bile forces itself way out of me. The pain doesn’t subside.The whole horizon has turned pure red. I am convinced we are no longer on this earth. While I die against the oceanic pressures on me, my hitchhiker sits calmly, hissing through his skull.
It goes on so long I feel my soul writhe in pain, then, as if it was nothing the red mist clears. We’re  back in the desert. The pressure has morphed into a soft lulling. Everything shifts in front of me, the air feels purple. Yet I’m sober, I know that this is no hallucination, the pain from the crossing has forced a vicious and unwelcome sobriety upon me.
“Where, are we man,” I ask, as casually as if I was riding with a friend

“In ThE PlAcE BeTwEen”

I face forward, its voice is so still and cold it feels as though I’ve had ice poured over me. Just focus on driving forward, that’s all. Just keep the car straight. But that’s becoming increasingly difficult as the earth around us grows soft and shapes being to melt, my eyes can barely stay open against this visual barrage.
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We pass through a small town, it’s house’s crooked and haphazardly built from rotting woods. I see a few of its citizens, hellish beasts, stumbling between them. Some have three, someone and some none but their eyes are transfixed on the passenger behind me.
I glance into the mirror but the hitchhiker shakes their head softly, I sigh with relief and stomp on the gas, moving far far away from the monstrosities that shamble after us.
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I feel days, nights, weeks even pass during the drive. The sun moves down and drenches us in vibrant purple sunsets that give way to the silvery moon and silent blue night. The horizon is flat with no direction but forward.
I reach into my back pocket and pull out a joint, I took one sweet drag and instinctively pass it behind me. It’s eye’s widening in amusement it brings the roach to its mouth and blows smoke from its nostrils. I laugh nervously.
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Three figures appear on the horizon, casting a shadow on us from miles away. The beast points at them with a crooked finger, I nod with understanding. This is it, what we’re trying to reach. There’s a layer of interest and excitement, however, covering the constant terror I’ve been driving with.
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Three other creatures just like the one in the back, stand in front of the car. With one step they move and surround the car. I duck my head down in fear, hoping they’ll just let me be. Christ, I cry inside, I don’t want them to slit my throat. They look at me with minute interest and talk to the passenger.  Their language sounds like the rattling of bones, dry and emotionless. I hear the car door slam and look up to see all four stand together at the side of the road. Their heads are down and they speak in hushed whispers. Something, some white object gets passed between them, ending in the hands of the hitchhiker. My interest piques and I can’t control myself. When they’re not looking I pry my door open and try to move to them.
Before my foot even hits the ground, their heads crack back at me, “StaY in ThE cAR”, they shriek and leap back into my seat with a yell.
They conclude their business and as the item gets puts away the three visitors point their hands up at the sky, flap them and shoot off into the sky like giant bats. The car lurches again and the door closes. Again the finger points forward.
I’m so tired I don’t think I can bear any more of this freakishness, with desperation in my voice I ask,” Where now”
“NoW We Cross Again”
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