TURNABOUT, by Colby Quinn
Originally published in Spicy Detective Stories, December 1938.
The filling station was only a hundred feet ahead when she felt headlights blooming on the road behind her, turned and saw the car slow down. He might be slowing for the filling station, but maybe not just for that. And she wanted a ride badly.
It would be hell to be stuck on a swamp road at night. Paved highway, but the shoulders were mucky and soft, and from three feet on either side of the road began the swamps, with their slimy water, their thickly sprouting trees dripping with moss, that harsh, incessant croaking of bullfrogs. Ugh!
“Want a ride, sister?”
She looked the gray V-eight sedan over carefully and looked intently at the man’s face, which was about all she could see as he leaned over toward the window on her side. He was young, honest-looking; handsome even. He looked all right.
He laughed. “I don’t blame you for being careful, getting picked up by a man at night. But you can trust me.”
She smiled. “Thanks. I’ll take a chance.”
He opened the door for her. She settled down beside him, pulling her skirt neatly over her knees.
“We need gas.” He pulled in at the filling station. She glanced at the gas gauge, which showed almost empty. But that meant, she knew, still a little gas in the tank. Probably enough for a few miles.
Her companion got out, ordered the single attendant on duty to fill the tank, and departed toward the wash room.
Lois leaned out, glancing nervously around. She asked softly of the gas man: “Are there any cops around here handy?”
The fellow grinned familiarly. “Nope, lady, not a one in miles. Don’t worry, the law against hitch-hikers doesn’t work this time of night. I saw you thumb the ride, but don’t worry about me.”
“Well…” Lois sat back, her heart pounding. “Thanks.”
* * * *
Two hours later they were still traveling together. She could have got away from him before now, if she’d really wanted to. They’d stopped at one more filling station, but he hadn’t left the car, and she didn’t either. A painful sort of fascination kept her.
He hadn’t asked her much. “Where you going, sister?”
“Atlanta.” Carefully looking him over as she answered. He didn’t seem to be paying much attention to her.
“Long ways off. Well, here’s part of your trip.” He didn’t say how much. She didn’t ask. “Live in Atlanta?”
She hesitated. “N-not exactly. My husband just got a job there, and I’m going to join him. He doesn’t know I’m on my way.”
Instantly she regretted having said that her husband wasn’t expecting her. Why, she wasn’t sure. If she was in any danger, that wouldn’t make any difference. She examined this man again, furtively. You read so much about attacks and murders committed either by hitch-hikers or their benefactors. And certainly she didn’t trust this man, despite his looks.
Once she stared intently at a passing motorcycle and he watched her curiously. He said understanding:
“You don’t have to tell me any more than you want to. But I can assure you there aren’t any cops along this road tonight.”
“I—I was just wondering,” she said weakly.
Neither made any more mention of cops, and after another hour, he said matter-of-factly, “I can’t drive all night. And there’s a place about three miles from here, according to the map, with good tourist cabins. Cheaper than hotels, anyway we don’t hit any towns soon, and if we did there wouldn’t be a hotel, the size they make towns here. I’ll get you a cabin if you want. What do you say?”
Lois drew a deep breath, considering. She was afraid of this man, yet she wanted to stick with him. They’d go on in the morning.
“All right. Thanks.”
* * * *
The young man reported to her, after consulting the proprietor of the cabins:
“They’ve only one left, but it has two rooms, if that’s okay by you.”
“All right.” Her heart jumped. He’d be right in the next room. A man she’d only met tonight. But she had to take a chance now. She couldn’t back out.
Inside her room, Lois set the little suede zipper bag on the one chair and opened it. She drew out closely folded pajamas and then peeled out of her dress. She sat on the edge of the bed and took off her shoes, her stockings, apprehensively watching the curtained doorway. For there was no door between the rooms. Slowly she reached for one shoulder strap of her slip, let it slide down her arm.
It was then that the curtain rustled and her companion stepped casually into the room.
“Pardon me,” he said, but his eyes were bright on her thinly clad form, from bare feet to shoulders.
“What do you want?” she asked tensely, one hand going instinctively to her breast.
“Just to say good night.” He was still fully dressed. He must have been waiting for her…“And to tell you I’m only going to Mobile. But I’d like to help you get on to where you’re going.”
Gradually he advanced into the room toward her. Lois stood up and retreated almost to the wall.
“You would?” Her heart was pounding heavily again. And what surprised her, almost frightened her, was that it wasn’t entirely from fear. She was thinking with a hard cool thought that the best thing she could do was stick with this man. Lead him along, until…
She had to get along with him now.
She knew he wasn’t just big-hearted. And neither was she. Her eyes narrowed as he approached her. “You’d better stay there,” she whispered.
He smiled, his eyes still stabbing brightly at her. “I said I wanted to help you.”
“You don’t need to come any closer to do that.”
“I like you, baby. That’s why I’m willing to help you.” He took another step.
When he took hold of her arm, Lois didn’t scream. She couldn’t do that…but he’d pay for this!
“Let me alone!” she whispered fiercely. But she didn’t twist away from him. His arms enclosed her stiff, unyielding figure and pressed her while he kissed her mouth, her face, her throat. Shivers crawled over her skin, and abruptly she began pushing at his chest and face, trying to get away. She knew now she couldn’t go through with it, no matter for what advantage.
But she’d let him go too far. He held her, one arm low around her waist. With the other hand he finally captured her two wrists and held them while he kissed her again. He worked her arms down between their bodies and locked them there quickly as he held her tight with both arms.
She moaned, suffering the roughness of his mouth, bruising her lips, parting them. Soft, tender curves were forced savagely against his chest until she could hardly move. When she tried to thresh her legs, he held her back to the wall…
* * * *
Lois was crying presently, her face in her hands, and he was bending over her, urging:
“Listen, baby, don’t take it that way. I like you, see? And I’ll help you along.”
Fury and humiliation almost choked her, but she managed to lift her face to his and smile. She kissed him, tasting it bitterly. “Thanks.” Her eyes still didn’t meet his.
He seemed relieved. “That’s the way to act. I thought you would.”
“Good night.”
“Okay, baby. I’ll get out.”
He did.
As he disappeared through the doorway, she called, “Oh!”
When he reappeared, she was standing close beside the doorway with the water pitcher from the table, poised.
She brought it down with an awkward cross-arm swing that took him across the temple. He stumbled, sank to his knees, clawing blindly with his arms and groaning, and she hit him again, this time squarely on top of the head. He folded with his face against the floor.
“Damn you!” she cursed him in a whisper, bending over him. She felt his pulse. It still beat strongly, so she was not a murderer.
She searched his pockets, found the car keys in a license folder, looked at the license briefly and got to her feet.
Lois smiled as she completed dressing and packed the zipper bag.
Outside, she got into the car, found the handbag in the glove compartment, and made up her face practically in the dark. A minute later she was speeding down the road.
With daylight, she stopped at the first place she could find a phone, called the police in the last large town she had stopped.
“I want to speak to Lieutenant Moore. He’s not—Well, I’d like to leave a message. This is Lois Wharton. I reported my car stolen last night, and I want to report I’ve recovered it. I started out hitchhiking for Atlanta, and I must have got a head start on the thief, because he came along and gave me a ride! What? Oh… I was scared of him, and I couldn’t get to a phone or find a policeman. So I stayed along with him and finally hit him over the head. If he’s still there, you’ll find him in a tourist cabin at…”