5…

The semi truck was a Kenworth, an older model, but in good repair. The driver, however, was redlining, and headed for a breakdown. He was on the final leg of a long haul from Cedar Rapid, to Salt Lake, To LA, then back to Cedar Rapids and home.

4…

After driving this way for a while, he again turned his car around, pulling onto the pavement and cutting across to the other side. He never looked to see if there were cars coming. Who ever drove this road in the heat of the day? Mike turned up his radio, the Eagles blaring out, helping him force his mind off the bright desert heat.

3…

The rate of closure between Ford and Semi was one hundred and twenty-six miles an hour. That’s a mile every twenty-eight seconds. It was dark, quiet and cool within the massive truck. The long haul driver’s eyes drooped momentarily. He shook off sleep and lit a cigarette. His wife thought he had quit for the baby. But, all things considered, he didn’t think that would matter now. His eyes frowned. The smoke swirled through the cabin.

2…

He stopped again along the side of the highway.

1…contact.

As Mike turned to look out the driver side window, he came face to face with a man with pure white hair, stooped, looking in at him. Not six inches away.

"Jesus Christ!"

The man smiled, "Sorry ‘bout that."

Mike’s arms dropped from their protective pose, and fell into his lap. He panted a moment, anger rising to replace his fear. "Where the Hell did you come from?" he demanded.

The man seemed unimpressed, either by the question or by his anger. He said, "You headed for Mac’s?"

Mike paused, anger forgotten. He stared into the man’s eyes, almost hypnotized. The man was not as old as he had first seemed. It was the hair. He had young, merry eyes of the palest blue that Mike had ever seen. The eyes held him helplessly for a long moment.

In a huge burst of sound and wind, a big rig blasted past them, breaking the spell. The man’s unnaturally white hair whipped around ruffled by the truck’s passing. His eyes never wavered.

In the sudden hush that followed, the man continued, "I could use a ride there, if you’re headed that way."

Mike said, "Yeah, I’m going there. But, I can’t find the road."

The man stood up, stepping back in the process. His clothes were white too. Or perhaps too white would be the word. Mike almost laughed out loud at the random thought. The man pointed over a shoulder with his thumb.

"It’s right here."

Across from him, going off to the North, was a newly paved road. The road that led to Cathy!

Mike sighed in relief, "Hop in, mister."

The man climbed nimbly into the low-slung car. He was tall. Mike offered his hand to the strange hitcher.

"Mike."

The hairs of his arm were strangely white too, but Mike noticed something else…

"I’m Jared."

They rode in silence for a while, then Mike commented on what he had noticed.

"You don’t have much of a tan for a man hitching rides in the desert."

Jared looked complacently at his pristine, pink skin that had never seen sunburn, or a mole. He returned his gaze to Mike.

"You don’t have a speck of dirt on your clothes either."

Jared waited.

"Who are you?"

Jared smiled. Mike could see the knowing smile out of the corner of his eyes.

"I’m just a guy who never minds his own business."

"Huh?"