dennis was almost there.
it was almost midnight, of the second night since he had left babylon. he had just passed logan utah, the last place indicated on the map , and had about 260 miles left to elko nevada.
he started to keep his eyes open for the hitchhiker mr johnson had told him he would see “just before” he reached elko nevada.
the hitchhiker with the gray hat, brown suit, and green suitcase.
he drove another 240 miles. the road was darker and lonelier then ever.
and there was the hitchhiker.
just as described - gray hat, brown suit, green suitcase. a tall, thin fellow, his face hidden by the wide brim of the gray hat.
dennis pulled the limousine to a stop. he popped the lock on the passenger side door.
the hitchhiker made no move to get in the car.
after waiting for about ten seconds, dennis took the package out of the glove compartment, got out of the car and walked around to where the hitchhiker was standing, silent and motionless.
dennis handed the package to the man. “mister johnson told me to give you this, “ he said, but the man took the package without answering and began unwrapping it.
there were two things in the package.
a small jeweler’s box.
and a gun. a pistol, the first one dennis had ever seen in real life.
the man pointed the pistol at dennis.
“give me the key,” he said.
“but - “ dennis started.
“no discussion, just toss me the key.”
dennis shrugged and took the key out of his pocket. “if you insist, mister, but i am still wide awake and can drive.”
the man in the gray hat laughed. it was not a friendly laugh. “you are not driving anywhere, my friend, you are tossing me that key and walking down the road.”
“but mr johnson didn’t say - “
“you are not talking to mr johnson, you are talking to me. no more discussion. you know what they used to call me, back in the day? no discussion smith. toss me the key and move on out.”
dennis looked around. he saw nothing but darkness. “but where am i going to go? and how am i going to get there?”
“that sounds like a personal problem. one last time - throw me the key. and then start walking. don’t stop and don’t look back.”
dennis did as he was told. he was about fifty yards down the road when he heard the car start behind him.
and then it was quickly past him, heading west, probably to jerusalem or nineveh.
dennis kept walking. it did not occur to him to turn around and start walking back east.
about two miles down the road he saw a light.
it was a small diner. ray’s diner, the faded sign above it read.
dennis wondered if it would take the cash mr johnson had given him. maybe it had a phone. he could try to call the garage, maybe get mr johnson himself.
he entered the diner. it was even smaller than it had looked from the highway. no seats or booths, just an l-shaped counter with a row of stools.
a flabby guy who needed a shave was standing behind the counter. he looked like he was falling asleep.
there was one customer.
the girl with the long blonde hair, the hitchhiker he had kept seeing throughout the trip . this time she had a white suitcase, and was wearing a black beret. she was fingering a cracked coffee cup on the counter in front of her.
dennis sat down on the other side of the l-shaped counter, at a right angle to her.
“can i make a phone call?” he asked the sleepy man. he could feel the girl’s eyes on him.
the man behind the counter blinked. “got to wait until morning. when they turn the tower on.”
dennis nodded. “can i get a cup of coffee? i have cash.”
“sure. how do you want it?”
“black. black as night. black as the highway.”
the girl spoke. “pretending you don’t know me, huh, johnny?”
dennis looked at her. “i’m afraid there is some mistake, ma’am. my name isn’t johnny. you must have me mixed up -“
“you lousy rat! do you think i’m some hayseed from hooverville? the only mix-up is my getting mixed up with a crummy welsher like you to begin with!”
“i’m sorry, ma’am - “
“sorry for what? for leaving me behind outside harrisburg? and toledo? and terre haute? and lincoln nebraska? and laramie and cheyenne? not to mention monte carlo and baden-baden.”
“i don’t know what’s going on here,” dennis protested, glancing at the counterman.
“welcome to the club, johnny. nobody knows what’s going on. “ the girl stood up. “maybe this can be lesson number one.” she took a pistol out of her coat pocket. it was smaller than the one the man in the gray hat had pointed at dennis, but looked just as deadly.
dennis looked at the counterman. “what do you think of all this?” he asked him.
“i’m just a poor man, mister, trying to make a living.”
the girl raised the pistol higher. “get ready to die, johnny.”
“i’ve never died before. i don’t know what it’s like.”
“i guess you’ll find out.”
when phil peters would finish his long nightly drive back and forth between logan utah and sparks nevada.
it was as dark and deserted as ever.
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