Speaker 1: Fast Food Horror is an Abbey Normal production. Hey guys,
it's ej over here at Fast Food Horror. We started
last week with our Urban Legends series with a retelling,
a reimagining, a re nightmary of the classic story of
the Hook. This week we do a good old fashioned
ghost story with the Lost Hitchhiker. So turn the radio up,
turn the lights down low, and get ready for a
retelling of a classic urban legend. In this week's installment,
Happy Halloween. You've found your way back to my fire.
What happened get lost in all the twists and turns
in the woods. Don't worry, friend, It's happened to many.
At least count yourself lucky that you've found your way back.
There are many, so many that are still walking about
the wood lost for eternity can be dangerous out there.
Why don't you sit and relax a bit, and I
will tell you another tale, an urban legend of a
traveler who picks up another kind of traveler in this story,
known as the lost hitchhiker. This is not what I
told dispatch at the end of my shift, and not
what I put in my end of day report. If
I had done that, it would have made me the
joke of the terminal and more than likely had me fired.
This is what actually happened, though, and why I bid
off this route. I never ever want to go back
on that stretch of road again. The snowstorm hit that
Friday afternoon, because of of course, that's when all snowstorms hit,
earlier than the forecasters had projected, right in the middle
of the school day on a Friday, when the drivers
and the students both want nothing more than to start
their weekend. The snowstorm triggered an early dismissal from all
schools to get in front of the real brunt of
the storm, get everybody, students and staff alike, home quickly
and safely. My route was a pretty straight run directly
out of town and up along the ridge, dropping off
all the kids that lived in farm country, and then
coming straight back down into town. I've had this run
for a couple of years. My kids are really well
behaved and very respectful. They know that when I'm driving
in bad conditions, they really really need to stay quiet
so I can give the road by full attention. Today
was one of those days. The visibility was only about
twenty to thirty yards nothing but a huge windshield of white,
like driving in a snow globe shaken by Mother Nature
who had drank one too many red bulls. Slow and steady,
I made my way up the incline of the ridge,
dropping the bus into the lowest gear so as to
have the most traction. Patiently I drove along the ridge,
making all my stops as I went, trying not to
stay in one spot too long so as not to
get stuck, but making sure my students were clear from
the bus and safely up their driveway. Then slow and
steady down the ridge, making sure not to stand on
my brakes so as to prevent me from skidding out
and ending up in a ditch. What usually was a
twenty minute descent was turning into almost forty with the storm.
Thank goodness, my bus was empty. The tree line, though,
was acting as a nice wind block from the blowing snow,
and as I made my descent, which made visibility a
bit better. And then I saw her, a bundled up
figure in a puffy baby blue winter coat and baggy
jeans and a cookie monster beanie. The hat made me smile.
She couldn't have been more than fifteen. Her head was
down to shield against the wind, her black curls flying,
walking her way up the road towards the ridge. I
slowed to a stop as I got near and opened
the door. This had to be one of my students,
or maybe their parents drove them into school, So not
one of mine. I racked my brain going through my
roster of kids, name by name, face by face, but
every one was accounted for. Nope, not one of mine.
As she approached the door, I tried to mask my
concern and annoyance that a child, or anyone for that matter,
would be walking up this stretch of road in these conditions,
and I yelled out as cheerily as I could, Hey,
what are you doing out in this? She raised her
face up to meet my look of concern, cherubic face
surrounded by black curls with freckles across her nose. I
didn't recognize her. Not one of my students, not this
year or years past. Her reply to my greeting was
a teeth chattering missed my ride to have to make
a home. Well, you're not walking in this. It's not
safe for anyone out here, I said, come on, I'll
take you home. What's your address? She fed me her
address as she came aboard, and I entered it on
my cell phone's GPS, trying to find anything. This would
be next to impossible, and I would rely on any
tech assistance I could rules be damned. I told her
to get warm and that the heater in the back
was the best and it was on full blast. I
watched as she made her way to the back, yelling
that to thank you, that they ain't thank you through
her chattering. What's your name? I shouted to the rear
of the bus, hoping she heard me over the engine
and wind. Jenny came the reply, Jenny Strom. Okay, Jenny,
here we go, I yelled, trying to hide my growing anxiety.
I put the bus in gear and radioed into terminal
just to let them know I had picked up a
student and was going to take them home rather than
let them walk in the storm. Ten four mister c
reply came, followed by a stay safe. I made my
way to the bottom of the incline and did a
quick three point turn at the empty country intersection before
starting to climb six miles up the incline to the
address she gave me. I was laser focused on the
road or black thereof in front of me. As I
kept thus moving forward, darkness was starting to fall, which
was making visibility even worse. But slowly I continued forward
through the drifts that were now starting to up and
cover the road. I hoped I was going to get
her home, and that I was going to make it
back down safely. About mile three, my faith kicked in,
and I found myself doing mental rosaries, followed by a
prayer to Saint Jude. If I made it without crashing,
it would be a miracle. A voice broke my thoughts.
You have arrived. Thank goodness for GPS, we were here.
I never would have found this address without it. A
small little cottage set off the road, surrounded by trees.
I could barely see the lights on inside, so someone
was home. Even better, I yelled back to Jenny, Hey, Jenny,
you're home. No reply came back. Maybe she didn't hear me,
Hey Jenny, we're here again. Not a sound. Maybe she
fell asleep. It's a long school day, no telling how
long she was out walking in this and it was late.
I set the parking brake and turned on my four
ways and quickly made my way to the back of
the bus, trying to make some noise so I could
wake her as I approached. I really didn't want to
stay and park too long, though, I didn't want to
get stuck out here all weekend. Jenny. Where I had
made it all the way to the back of the bus,
all forty feet was empty. I walked the length of
the bus again, looking under the seats as I went,
calling her name. Where the hell did she go? I
saw her get on the bus and walk to the
rear There's no way she got off the bus. The
emergency door would have sounded. I walked the bus again
and just a double check, opened the rear door and
heard the loud buzzing alarm before closing the door. Where
the heck did she go? I went to the front
of the bus and looked out the student door. The
snow was up to the first step and there was
no footprints. I couldn't understand where she went, but that
wasn't the worst of my problems now either the snow.
The snow was up to the front step on an
incline road. I put the bus in gear. I keyed
the mic one five to seven a base, but all
I got back was static one five to seven a base.
Again the electric reply of white noise, and then the
horror struck. Not only was the radio no use, I
wasn't moving. I was stuck and lost the child. I
looked at my cell phone, no bars. I searched for answers.
Where how did she get off the bus? What was
I gonna do? How was crap? I was in trouble
with no options for help. My eyes drift to the
left and then to the right the lights the cottage.
I forced the passenger doors open and stepped out into
the snow and felt myself sink. The snow was all
the way up to my knees. I pushed through the
quickly falling snow and made my way up to the cottage,
hoping that Jenny was there with a reasonable explanation and
that there was a land line. I knocked at the door,
and I heard a muffled female voice. Was it Jenny all? Please?
Let it be Jenny, safe and warm, then she could
explain to me how she did her Houdini impression. I
said my silent prayer until the door opened. Hello, a
female voice greeted me from a partially opened door, chain
still in place. I introduced myself and pointed out my
bus's flashing lights, the only thing still visible on the snow.
Do you have a landline? My radio and cell phone
both are out. I need to call terminal to let
them know what's happened. When I was bringing Jenny home,
the door slammed close. I heard the chain fall back,
and then it slowly opened. She was in her sixties,
all of five two, with graying brown blonde hair and glasses.
And it was behind those glasses I saw a look
of concern and understanding. Who are you bringing home? She
asked Jenny. I explained, I picked her up down the
road and she was wearing a light blue coat, baggy jeans,
and a cookie Monster beanie. She interrupted, Yeah, I said,
she's she's been dead for thirty years. She replied. I.
I'm sorry what I said, baffled. Dead gone thirty years
ago on a night like this, she was walking home
from school. I was stuck at work, was supposed to
get her. Her dad was out of town. Remember this
was before cell phones, or I would have told her
to stay at school. She she took it upon herself
to start walking home. She didn't make it up the incline.
We searched. They, the police searched, they. They found her
in a snow bank two days later, when the snow
finally stopped. People have been picking her up on nights
like this ever since. She's looking for kind strangers to
bring her home. She's still trying to get home. You're
not the first and won't be the last, as long
as there's storms on nights like this. I stood there, stunned.
She was so matter of fact about it, not rehearsed,
but but like she's had this interaction over and over.
Before I could get my next question out of my eyes,
I caught a in memory picture above the fireplace. A
cherubic face stared back at me, surrounded by black pearls,
with freckles covering her nose. It was her. It was Jenny.