Dr. Creepen's Dungeon - S6 Ep349: Episode 349: Car, Trucks and Drive in Theaters

Episode Date: June 30, 2026

Our first story this evening is ‘The Late-Night Creature Feature in Pompeii, Indiana’, an original work by the talented MCsinister765, again kindly shared directly with me for the express purpose of having me exclusively narrate it here for you all./user/MCsinister765/ Today’s second fantastic story is ‘The Last Drive-In Theater I Ever Visited’, another original work, this time by the fabulous Zucca101, again kindly shared directly with me for the express purpose of having me exclusively narrate it here for you all. /user/Zucca101/Today’s final terrifying tale of the macabre is ‘Stay in Your Car’, an original story by Craig Groshek from Chilling Tales for Dark Nights, kindly shared directly with me for the express purpose of having me narrate it here for you all. Author Profile: https://www.creepypastastories.com/authors/craig-groshek/ LinkTree: https://linktr.ee/chillingtalesfordarknights YouTube channel: https://www.youtube.com/@chillingtalesfordarknights Chilling Tales for Dark Nights: https://www.chillingtalesfordarknights.com The Simply Scary Podcast Network: https://www.simplyscarypodcast.com Creepypasta Stories: https://www.creepypastastories.com 

Welcome to Dr. Creepin's dungeon. Cars make for terrifying horror stories because they represent both freedom and vulnerability. The vehicle is supposed to be a safe space, a place that carries us home, protects us from the outside world and gives us control over where we go. Horror takes that comfort away by turning familiar situations into nightmares. A deserted road at midnight to stranger following from behind a breakdown in the middle of nowhere. on the terrifying realization that you're not alone inside the car. Yes, there's something uniquely frightening about being trapped in a moving machine,

surrounded by darkness with nowhere to run and miles of empty road ahead. The car becomes more than just a setting. Comes a place where isolation, helplessness, and fear collide, as we shall see in tonight's three tales. As ever before we begin, word of caution, tonight's stories may contain strong language, as well as descriptions of violence and horrific imagery. That sounds like your kind of thing.

Let's begin. The late-night creature feature in Pompeii, Indiana. There's an almost universal feeling of discomfort and ease that a person experiences when they see a deserted place that their mind tells them should be full of people. The stark feeling of wrongness and creeping dread that is perhaps a holdover from our animalistic ancestors, meant to warn us when danger is fast approaching. I think most people are familiar with the sensation,

but few know that it has a name. Kinopsia. Now, Kinopsia is defined by the dictionary of obscure sorrows as the eerie, forlorn atmosphere of a place that's usually bustling with people, but is now abandoned and quiet. Like a school hallway in the evening, long after classes have let out, an unlit office building over the weekend. the store display window after dark or vacant fairgrounds totally devoid of anyone to enjoy them.

Basically, it's a kind of emotional afterimage that creates a feeling of not just emptiness, but hyper emptiness, the kind that seeps into the song. In a way, it could be described as a kind of haunting, but rather than being haunted by some lingering supernatural malignancy, one who experiences Kenobsia is haunted by what is not there but should be. I've experienced Kenobseal several occasions throughout my comparatively short life. But the one that stands out in my memory is the night my older brother Caleb and I found ourselves in a place called Pompeii, Indiana, after a long night of driving aimlessly down some backroads high on psychedelics.

Now I'm certain that many rational people will use my admission that I was using drugs that night as an excuse to dismiss the entire experience as a simple hallucination, brought on by intoxication. That'd be fair. I may have been inclined to do the same were I in their shoes. But one cannot hallucinate the deep scars that now mark my body to this day. I've yet to find a drug that could cause a person to simply cease to exist in the way I witnessed that night. But, well, I digress. You will not find Pompeii, Indiana on any map.

And Google searches of the town's name will best give you the address of a pizza place in Lake County, as well as a large serving of disappointment and palpable frustration. Believe me, I've tried. My attempts to retrace the journey my brother and I took and to pin down an exact geographic location of the town I very nearly lost my life in have so far proven to be futile. The most I can tell you is that it should be located somewhere about two and a half hours south of Indianapolis as far as I could tell.

Well, when you're tripping on acid, it's hard to keep track of landmarks and road signs amidst the backdrop of ever-shifting, kaleidoscopic hallucinations and euphoricestine. sensations that demand your attention for hours at a time. Honestly, in hindsight, it's a miracle that we didn't crash the car. I'd say we were lucky, but knowing where we ended up, that will be a lie. It all started at our parents' house in Brownsburg, Indiana, around midnight.

Our folks had just left for an out-of-state vacation that Caleb and I had declined to accompany them on, with the somewhat plausible excuse that neither of us could take the time off of work that would have been required to accompany them. But in reality, he and I have been strategically planning to embrace the golden opportunity that was their absence to have a drug-fuelled night of excitement ever since we'd learned that they were going on vacation some months prior.

Our parents had barely made it out of the driveway and down the dimly lit street before Caleb dashed up to his room on the second floor of our three-story house and quickly returned with what looked to be a wad of aluminum foil and a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. Oh man bro, it's going to be so fucking sweet, he'd said. He then wasted no time placing the ward on the kitchen counter and unwrapping it with care,

revealing what looked like neatly cut little paper squares that were small enough to fit on the tip of a finger. I being the younger of the two of us, and at the time woefully inexperienced in the world of controlled substances, felt a mixture of exhilaration and nervousness as Caleb instructed me to take one of the paper squares, from the foil and place it under my tongue, only to be very underwhelmed by the lack of any detectable changes in my perceptions after the first couple of minutes. I don't feel anything, Caleb. Are you sure your guy didn't sell you bullshit? I asked him, with concern and impatience, seeping into my voice.

Caleb chuckled as if I'd said something extremely childish before reassuring me. Give it time. The chemicals take a while to reach the brain. Well, how will I know when it's working? Trust me, you'll know. I took him at his word and we spent the next 45 minutes or so just hanging out in our spacious living room, flipping absent-mindedly through channels on the TV, waiting for the acid to work its magic. When I made the suggestion that I'd regret for the rest of my natural life.

I'm hungry, man. Why do we go down the street real quick and grab something to eat before we're both too high? to function. Caleb, being the only one out of the two of us with a license and a car, scratched his head as if weighing the pros and cons of the idea, before he conceded with a shrug. Sure, as long as it's just down the street and back, we should be okay. My vision was starting to vibrate at this point, and any notion of how dangerous getting into a car in the state we were in was chased away by the marvelous visions that had begun dancing before my eyes. After a few minutes of fumbling around through the fastly developing wonderland that was forming around us for our coats, shoes and Caleb's keys,

both of us somewhat clumsily loaded ourselves into Caleb Silverado, pulled out of the driveway and proceeded down the street toward a string of local fast food places at a languid pace. Well, it's worth mentioning at this part of my story that Caleb had a terrible sense of direction, one that I, and practically everybody that knew him, teased him for relentlessly. He'd often get lost driving to the houses of friends that live just a few blocks over. This, coupled with the fact that both of us were now tripping balls on acid, and it should come as no surprise that Caleb somehow managed to completely pass the fast few joints and steer us onto the highway. We were both so far gone that we must have driven for a good 20 minutes

before either of us realized that we were lost. Once we did, we were basically the blind leading the blind. Both of us arguing back and forth about which turn to make and which exit to use when neither of us really had any idea of where the hell we were going. It wasn't all bad to tell you the truth. I mean, in some ways it was a lot of fun. A short trip to get fast food had become an all-out, a psychedelic adventure through the open fields and winding country roads

of our little slice of the Midwest. We laughed, joked, argued, and debated. with one another about all manner of things while we looked in awe at the sights and sensations the drug we'd both taken was producing for us. Eventually, though, as it became clear to both of us, that we were thoroughly lost with the way back to the house nowhere in sight. We agreed that it would be best to stop somewhere and get our bearings, maybe even get a hotel for the night until we were clear-minded enough to find our way back home, even though the prospect of trying to have normal social interactions with anyone, given our house, high we both were, seemed like a herculean task. And that was when I first noticed the ashes that

fell from the otherwise clear summer sky, like snow. I dismissed it as just another hallucination at first. Gradually, though, as it started to collect on the windshield and obstruct our vision to the point where Caleb had to turn on his windshield wipers so he could drive safely, I realized that it was real. I turned to Caleb for verification of this, on the off-chamble. On the off-cham that I was just hallucinating. Hey man, do you see that? Yeah, man, it's really weird. Yeah, totally weird.

After driving for another few miles down the road through the strangest weather phenomenon either of us had ever experienced, we saw a large, weathered old sign in the distance that was all faded paint and rotting wood that read, Welcome to Pompey, Indiana. In big, bold letters, overlooking what seemed to be a decent-sized town, complete with a motel, a gas station, the town hall, the diner, a school, a few rows of old-looking houses here and there,

and what from the distance looked like an old-school drive-in movie theatre, all covered in a slowly growing blanket of ashes. It wasn't exactly inviting, but any port we'll do in a storm, as the saying goes, so we decided to check it out. If a town could ever be accurately compared to a recently hollowed-out corpse, then Pompeii would definitely be the perfect candidate for that comparison. Everywhere we looked, we were confronted by a complete and utter lack of any noticeable signs of human life, or any life at all for that matter.

Despite the fact that in contrast to the weathered old sign that had welcomed us in, nothing we saw looked particularly old or dilapidated at all. In fact, some of the machines and appliances left scattered around, apparently abandoned buildings, show clear signs of recent use. We stopped at the gas station first to fill up and grab some snacks, since neither of us had eaten anything since our ill-fated journey had begun. And what we saw once we passed through the open glass double doors and made our way inside was equal parts confusing and unsettling.

Directly in front of us was a row of about six or so commercial coffee pots that had all still had steam rising out of their tops, as if freshly brewed. After the left was the checkout counter where the register drawer stood open and a pack of cigarettes lay on its side next to it. As if whoever had been working the counter had just set them down in the middle of ringing them up and just left without even bothering to close the draw. The air pump out in the parking lock was running, although there were cars anywhere in sight. Since those machines generally tend to run for only about a few minutes at most after someone puts enough quarters in it, logically speaking someone had to have turned it on in the last few minutes but there were no visible signs of anyone that i could see nor were there any obvious clues to where the people who had to have lived there had gone no tracks in the ash that blanketed the ground no hastily handwritten notes saying out to lunch or offering any kind of explanation to where the fuck everyone was it was just deafening silence and a profound feeling of isolation It wasn't just the gas station either

Everywhere we looked the outcome was the same The diner was all but abandoned Its retro interior clearly meant to replicate the atmosphere Of a 1950s burger joint It was totally barren No people anywhere to be seen though Almost every single table was loaded With at least five or six plates of food apiece

All of which were still warm to the touch As if the place had been packed with families Getting ready to enjoy a hearty evening meal with one another just a few moments earlier, before they just left and went somewhere, somehow. Just like at the gas station, we could see no cars in sight. We stopped for a moment to help ourselves to a few plates of the abandoned meals before checking out a few of the other buildings, namely the derelict motel in a few of the houses, only to find more of the same.

At this point in our journey, the hallucinogenic effects of the acid we'd taken was beginning to work against Caleb and I. Our feelings of carefree foolishness and euphoria had morphed into unease and steadily growing paranoia and the acid was only amplifying that. Everywhere I looked I saw shadows moving in the periphery of my vision, but whenever I turned to confront them, they'd be gone. I could feel sweats starting to gather on my forehead

and a cold, tingling feeling start to crawl up the small of my back. and Caleb wasn't doing much better. I could see him visibly shaking and watch his eyes dart from side to side in rapid panicky movements as he pays back and forth in the empty motel parking lot where both of us now stood next to the park Silverado

trying to figure out what to do next. His face had begun to contort and wilt almost like it was melting off of his head the longer I stood and stared at him. I had to verbally remind myself that his face only looked that way because I was on drugs, but, well, the more I repeated it to myself, the more it sounded like a lie. Calm down. You're tripping. Everything's fine. Everything's fine. I repeated to myself like a prayer.

Where the fuck is everyone? Caleb had yelled in transparent frustration, now looking only vaguely recognizable as himself to my eyes. His normally unkempt sandy blonde hair now look blue and tattered and his head had swelled to at least twice its regular size. His mouth was lopsided and only a single, glassy eye could be seen on his now horribly distorted face. I must have been gawking at him with wide-eyed terror because he stopped pacing for a minute to see what was up with me. Hey, you okay? Do I have something on my face? I bit back the urge to tell him he looked like a freaking alien out of one of those low-budget 80s horror movies and did my best to respond with coherent sentences.

No, you're fine. I'm just really fucking high and I don't want to be here. Well, neither do I. Fuck this, man. Let's just get the hell out of here. Literally anywhere would be better than here. Agreed. With that, we hop back into the Silverado and gunned down the road, back towards the highway.

maintaining a very tense silence between the two of us as we went. Neither of us could really put into words at that time, but we felt in our bones that something was very off about that place. The ashes that fell from the sky had ceased gently falling like snow and now whirled around the truck-like winds of a blizzard, devouring the highway in front of us, and even after Caleb had turned his brights on, we could only see maybe a few feet of road in front of us.

We didn't care We just wanted to get out of that place As fast as we could We didn't make turns And we sure as shit didn't turn around I'm sure of it Yet after about 15 minutes or so Of gunning it down the highway

As fast as we could We were once again face to face With that decrepit Rotting old sign that read Welcome back to Pompeii Indiana Without skipping a beat Caleb whipped the truck around and took off in the opposite direction,

only to have the same thing happen again, and another time after that. After we found ourselves in front of that goddamn sign for the fifth time, I remember pounding my fist against the dash out of sheer frustration before I turned and started screaming at my brother. What the fuck is wrong with you? You have one job, Caleb, let's get us the fuck out of here. Why is that so freaking hard?

Caleb didn't respond to me right away. He just sat there staring at the eroded, ancient-looking sign with an expression of pure bewilderment. His face looked relatively normal to me now, which made no sense given that he told me that the acid we took usually lasted about nine hours on average. There was simply no way that nine hours had passed already. I don't know. This was all he could manage to say. That was when I noticed the drive-in movie theatre in the distance, or more specifically that there seemed to be a movie playing on the towering projection screen.

It was almost impossible to make out what was playing from that distance, but regardless the site filled me with a desperate kind of hope, because, after all, if a movie was playing, that meant someone had to be down there working the projector, and maybe that someone could tell us what the hell was going on. Hey, there's a movie playing down there, I said. pointing to the drive-in. Caleb followed my finger with his gaze down to the drive-in

and at the movie playing on the screen, before looking back at me with a confused look. So? What do you mean? So, if there's a movie play and then there have to be people down there? Oh, we can't be sure of that. Well, do you have any better ideas about what we should do? I'll tell you what we should do.

We should stay the fuck away from that town. this is beyond creepy do what sit here forever there could be someone down there who could help us Caleb conceded with a frown oh god I don't like this bro I don't like this at all

he then put the truck back into drive and reluctantly took us back through the deserted streets of Pompeii towards the theatre and since I can say with confidence that I was totally clear-minded at this point I noticed small details here and there that I'd totally overlooked before. When we passed the empty church building, for instance,

I saw a rather ominous message scrawled on the sidewalk just outside the main entrance that read. Here we were deceived. The more I looked around, the more I found that similar messages have been scrawled along the entranceways and sidewalks of several places all around town. One such message inscribed. along the sidewalk the board of the diner red. Here we went unnourished.

Yet another that I saw a written outside of the town hall read. Here we were portrayed. But the message that was easily the most unsettling out of all the ones I saw was the one scrawled over the faded sign over the entrance to the drive in itself that read, Here we bore witness. The gate itself. hung open and offered an unobstructed path into the theatre, which seemed to consist of a large open parking area that, unlike virtually anywhere else in town, was packed with cars from end to end,

and what looked like some sort of concession stand located roughly at its centre. We could see the dim silver light of the projector as it filled the enormous screen at the northernmost end of the drive-in, with what looked like an old-fashioned black-and-white movie that hadn't seemed to have progressed past its opening credits. Names of actors and companies I'd never heard of scrolled slowly down the length of the screen before the movie opened was seen of an idyllic-looking Midwestern town overlooked by a starry night sky

that, well, in some ways, resembled the one we now found ourselves in. Before I could turn to Caleb and discuss what we should have done next, the screeching static of the Silverado's radio pierced the silence that prevailed between the two of us, before it morphed into what we assumed was the radio that accompanied the movie. At first it was this really corny-sounding jingle, the likes of which you'd expect to see on an old commercial. Then it abruptly became a loud crashing sound

as one of the stars that graced that beautiful night sky on the screen fell to earth below and made a large crater in the woods just outside of the town. The scene then shifted to a young boy who looked to be around high school age, walking through those same woods alone in the daytime. He wandered around aimlessly until he happened upon the crater, which had by then been filled up to the edges with a strange viscous black liquid. The boy then sat along the edge of the pool, regarding it curiously, as if debating with himself about whether or not he wanted to touch it,

when a stream of bubbles rose up to the pool centre and started to pop one after the other, and each pop bubble carried with it a word from a voice that sounded remarkably human, almost like that of a young girl. Hello, who are you? The voice asked. Each syllable sounded strained and unnatural, as if whatever was making them had not quite mastered human speech.

The boy, for his part, seemed shocked at first, but his shock quickly changed into rapt fascination, and he started talking back. Hello, I'm Ronnie, he said. Ronnie, the voice echoed. Who are you? I am lost. Lost.

The boy named Ronnie repeated, sounding confused. Lost. I am lost. I want to go home. Can I help? Small. I'm too small. I must grow. You must grow, Ronnie repeated, his face suddenly becoming vacant and expressionless.

He then turned and walked in the opposite direction back towards town, repeating, She must grow, she must grow, to himself like a mantra. The scene then changed again, this time showing Ronnie and another boy who was approximately the same age, walking through the same woods towards, the pool it's just this way ronnie said his voice distant and unnatural which didn't seem to be lost on the other boy sure ronnie whatever you say you're feeling okay you sound weird i'm fine we're almost there the boy didn't see him reassured but went along regardless when the pair finally came upon the pool once again ronny gestured to it with veneration

The other boy seemed to think it was mesmerizing. He knelt by the edge and watched the bubbling black liquid with wide-eyed fascination, while Ronnie slowly and subtly maneuvered behind it. This is so cool, Ronnie. What is it? A boy was barely able to utter the word it before Ronnie pushed him in with all the force he could muster, and upon making physical contact with the liquid, the other boy led out a heart-breaking scream.

oily black tendrils reached up from the depths of the pool and constricted around him like pythons you could hear the sickening sound of his bones snapping into the tendrils began pulling him down slowly but surely he thrashed around and cried out desperately for his friend to help him but roney remained still and just watched the horror unfolding in front of him with that same vacant dispassionate look in his eyes she must grow he said eventually the other boy vanished beneath the liquid completely and the pool began to expand ever so slightly the black ooze flowing past its edges no more words were spoken aloud between Ronnie and the entity inside the pool but he seemed to be aware of its will nonetheless the next few scenes played out in a similar fashion Ronnie luring hapless victims to their inevitable fates in the woods and the pool steadily expanding with each new sacrifice. Before long the pool had become a large pond,

and not long after that a small lake. As it grew, it devoured the plant life it came into contact with voraciously. Trees and other vegetation that were unfortunate enough to be in its path, withered and died almost before my eyes, so I watched that horrible black ooze creep ever closer to the town itself. Though it was never explicitly stated, by any of the characters. I got the distinct impression,

after the pool had expanded past a certain point, the entity no longer needed to rely on Ronnie for sustenance. Before long, others began to do its bidding as well. In one scene a pastor of the local church let his day's congregation into the dying woods and the edge of the black ooze for baptism, and then much them all die in the depths of that murky blackness one after another,

before walking into the pool himself, with the most contented smile across his face as he did. In yet another scene, I couldn't bring myself to watch all the way through. A school bus driver veers off the road with a look of total vacancy in his eyes. He puts his foot to the gas as he drives towards the woods, with reckless abandon and a busload of terrified kids. The film reached its climax when open conflict broke out between a group of townspeople who seemed to have retained their minds

and those that had fallen under the sway of the voice from the pool. The conflict had been short and bloody, and although the townspeople had fought like cornered animals, they were ultimately subdued and corralled like livestock by their possessed neighbours. I scarcely have the worst to describe the cold and detached depravity I witnessed on that screen. I've never considered myself the screamish type, and I'd seen a lot of documentaries about things like the Holocaust and the Rwandan genocide, in school growing up, so I wasn't totally unfamiliar with the concept of one group of humans

setting out to systematically exterminate another, but what I saw on that screen was not like those events at all. There was no anger and no malice in it, no zealous demagogue spewing hateful rhetoric. The day's servants of the alien entity carried out their atrocity in near total silence. They didn't even speak to each other. One by one they either bound people they'd lightly known their whole lives with duct tape and ropes, scavenged from around town, and dragged them out into the woods completely oblivious to their pain cries and desperate pleas for mercy, or they simply beat them until they could no longer resist. In one instance, I saw a large man break the legs of a woman who could easily have been in her 80s

before he hoisted her over his shoulder and carried her off into the blackness. In another, I saw a woman strangling a small girl that was her spitting image into unethiesies, into unconsciousness and then carrying her limp form to the woods. Once everyone had been gathered up and brought to the edge of that liquid abyss that had swelled to far beyond its original size, what I can only describe as a kind of grotesque ritual took place. The elderly and infirm were pushed in first. Then came the men, afterward the women, until only the children remained.

I thought that the children would meet the same awful fate, only to be temporarily relieved when that didn't happen. Instead, I winished each and every one of the possessed people walk into the ooze and perish with joyous smiles painted on their dazed faces, leaving the children of the town bound and alone for several moments before the boy caught Ronnie emerge from the depths of the ooze and walked out onto the land, looking simultaneously younger and also ageless. The dark liquid of the pool fell from his eyes.

and ran down his cheeks like tear drops, and a chillingly warm smile stretched across his freckled face. He spoke to the terrified little ones in a voice that was his own, and at the same time not. Hello, are you lost? Do you want to go home? He asked. Common sense dictated that he was speaking to the children on the screen, but the angle of the camera made it seem as though he was speaking to me directly, and that made my blood her uncold. The children's response to his question came in the form of gargled cries and terrified wines. Don't be afraid, little ones.

We'll all go home soon. Look how she has grown, he said as he turned to the ooze-filled crater with his arms outstretched as that thing slowly rose out of the pit. I've tried so hard to purge the image from my mind over the years with drugs, booze, and even blunt-force trauma, but none of it could expel the image of those great black wings that eclipsed the moon and the stars. No amount of physical trauma could exercise the sight of its ten heads and seven horns, each bellowing black ash and fire into the sky. Through Ronnie, I heard it speak. each and every one of its blasphemous names, each more terrible than the last.

I heard it speak of its home in the black void beyond the stars where all light goes to die, of the utter apathy of God and the complete meaningless of my own existence. At that point, I lost conscious awareness that I was watching just a movie, and I heard myself scream. Panic set in and I clawed frantically at the truck's door

only to find that Caleb had locked it. In the same instant that I realized this, I felt his hand on my shoulder, and I whipped around to see a serene, peaceful look on his face as black tears fell down his cheeks. It's all right, brother. We're lost no more.

It's time to go home. He said in that voice that was not his own as he wrapped his hands around my neck. I struggled against his ground. grip but couldn't break free. Through the haziness of my oxygen-deprived brain, I could see Caleb's skin begin to bubble and blister, as if it had been exposed to unimaginably high temperatures, before I saw my brother erupt into blue flames, all while keeping that same serene expression on his face as he began to burn away. Out of sheer strength brought on by mortal terror,

I threw him off of me, busted the passenger window with my elbow, and scrambled out and away from the Silverado just as the entire thing burst into flames. I then looked on in horror as my brother burned away into nothingness, so that not even a body remained, just the burned-out husk of a vehicle and an empty feeling of despair. The unnatural storm of ashes that had dogged us throughout this ill-fated journey had whipped up to unbelievable speeds at this point, pelting my skin and stinging my eyes, though I hardly noticed it. In truth, I felt a felt. I was going to die, and I was okay with it. I didn't want to be in that awful place alone.

I laid on the cold asphalt and gravel, waiting for deaths embrace. I only to find myself in an unfamiliar hospital bed when I next opened my eyes. Over the next several days, I'd learned that I'd been found unconscious on the side of the highway by a passing trucker who'd in turn caught the police and got me to a hospital. after I was awake and coherent enough to tell the doctors who I was and my family's contact information my parents soon rushed over and nearly pulled me out of the bed when they embraced me I was as grateful to see them as they were to see me they brought with them questions I really didn't know how to answer where did you go what happened to you and then of course

the most painful question of them all where is Caleb I had no words to form an answer, and I doubt they would have believed me if I did anyway. My silence told them enough. I can still hear my mother's pain sobs that penetrated the thin walls of my room from outside in the hallway, and my father's softly spoken reassurances that did know real good. Eventually the police came by to ask very similar questions, and they wouldn't take silence for an answer. The detective, who I spoke with, was a reserved and professional man who was very careful with his words. But I could tell that he didn't believe me when I told him that I had no recollection of what had happened to me in Caleb that night.

It'd be better for you in the long run, if you told the whole truth, son, he'd told me. I knew that the whole truth would likely just land me in a mental wall, maybe even jail. And so I said nothing. without any concrete evidence of foul play the police eventually eased off of me that didn't stop the rumours and the gossip around town or the cold stairs I got from people I passed on the streets in the absence of a true telling of events

it's human nature to construct your own and the version of events that ended up circulating around town was that I'd murdered Caleb over drugs or that maybe he'd overdosed on something and I'd left him to die None of that was true, but people believed it and treated me accordingly. I was effectively a total pariah by the end of the month. That wasn't the worst of it, though. Those things all paled in comparison to the feeling I felt whenever I had walked by Caleb's empty room,

which, in the months and years following his death, had become a kind of shrine to his memory. Whenever I look at his room now, I know what it is to be haunted. real hauntings don't come from wraiths or spirits, but from memories and the knowledge that someone who should be there is not. That detective still comes around every now and again to check on me, and to ask if I'm ready to talk, though I always tell him that I have nothing to say. In a strange way he's become like my only friend. I think I may tell him everything one day when I have nothing else to lose and I can hold

on to this thing no longer. There is no happy ending to my story. Only a plea that you cherish those you love because you never know when they'll be gone from the world forever. And a warning that, if you ever find yourself in Pompeii, Indiana, for the love of God, stay away from the theatre. Stay away from the late night creature feature. The last drive in theatre I ever visited. This is the story. of a monster.

My name's Harold Brown. I'm six foot one, built like a Viking, short and thick tree trunk legs, huge torso, big paunch, thick blonde hair, blue eyes,

hair everywhere, and gigantic arms cap by ham-sized fists. Suffice to say, when I go to Renaissance fairs, it's always as William Wallace. I go to a university in California, you, one of the last good ones, a hidden gem, really.

And five months ago, I met my girlfriend, Cassandra. How we met is the stuff of, at once, dreams and nightmares. I was behind her in a drive-thru late at night and saw some guy climb into her cup. I followed after her, frantically honking and flashing my brakes to get her attention. But she evaded me, not knowing of the monster hiding behind her. Because I grew up on the farms and ranches surrounding this town, I quickly located the back roads they'd gone down and called in the police. Cassandra was still alive. I met with her again after she was released from the hospital. I knew I had to ask her out after the cops

tried to take the bag of fast food that was in her car for evidence, and she ferociously snatched it back and mauled the burger in half a minute, in spite of being starkers, and red as a tomato from head to toe, thanks to the bleach she'd been dunked in by that psycho. Coffee, movies, a great hole in the war restaurants I know around town, none of which were drive-through since she'd officially sworn off of them, and whatever else a pair of students on a shoestring budget could manage. Her cascade of wine-red hair, which reminded me of my field of study, a mother of pearl skin and her vibrant blue eyes, or marked a young woman who knew her way around an animal cell.

I'd regale her with talk of wine and wine-making. Geekery. The time I was shot while working as a security guard at the Santa Barbara County Fair and Expo and books I grew up with. Star Wars' expanded universe. Raptor Red and Snow Crash, if you must know.

She would bless my ears with descriptions of cellular mitosis. Star Trek, which got her into science because Mr. Spock's her a hero, Oh, and Mystery Science Theatre, 3000. I was already a fan, but she helped me truly appreciate the skits in between the movie segments.

She called me her big Viking wolf. I call her my little Spitfire Fox. To be honest, I probably wouldn't have met or talked to her or any of the girl there at that university. It's not that I'm shy. Of the Myers-Briggs personality types, I'm an INFJ, introverted, intuitive, feeling, judging.

The rarest of them all. Great privacy, but great empathy. A healer, a crowd-pleaser, but someone preferring their alone time and their own headspace. But more than just that, I struggle with feelings of intense self-hatred, none of which manifest on the surface because my nurturing nature doesn't want to spread that around.

How do I find validation? Through helping others. Counseling helped and probably saved my life. But that self-hatred still pops up. All of it prompted by a traumatic three years when I was nine at the hands of an ex-sister-in-law. But for now, these days, I'd managed to find a wonderful young woman who saw past my imperfections to the person under the carefully constructed mask. Dating bliss.

at last. We had to be careful, though. In our town there's a significant homeless population and some gangs, too. Most of the latter didn't bother with students, unless someone was behind on a drug tab, but most students' vices were beer

and video games, and the former they were usually pretty chill. There's even a mural of one, dubbed the Pirates, thanks to his eyepatch and haggard demeanour. Every time a student would see him, They'd pump a fist and shout,

Ah, matey! And the pirate would shout, Ah, matey, back. Nice guy. Lo's doze, Echrist's beer, and if you buy him a drink or sandwich, he'll regale you with stories from his time working on a freight ship that are so outlandish and so ridiculous,

they absolutely must be true. Unicorn Man. So named for the single dreadlots sticking out from his head at all times. He was a professor at the university until something he was researching just broke his mind. The cop, named because of the tattered police shirt and cop-hattie wore, was an abandoned Down syndrome baby, but the man could be trusted to walk women safely home on dark and frightening nights.

Yeah, a real-class act, the cop. Then there's some of the unsafe ones. The Martian, who thinks aliens are going to invade. Pigpen, who's only held together by all the parasites he carries holding hands. and tapeworm. There was a dried-up, crap-spattered tail sticking out of his hands that's composed of the half-dead tapeworms dangling out of him and keeps yelling about how his son was taken by polar bears.

He was just a student that cracked from pressure and never went home. He'd become violent towards anyone with a small dog or cat, demanding they give him his son back, and spend a night in jail. Once upon a time, We had institutions that helped these people. But because a relative few psychos turned them into their own personal Dr. Mengler playgrounds, they mostly got closed out.

Things everywhere would have been different if these folks got the help they needed. But, well, I digress. One evening, when we'd finished our studies over a plate of tequitos and guacamole that had grown cold and limp and dark green, respectively, Cassandra looked out from her book and shut it with a heavy thud Let's go see a movie She exclaimed

Grinning that adorable way that she did Oh, as long as not the Star Wars prequel I growned She scoffed As if you even had to say it After what Jar Jar Abrah Abrams did to Star Trek I'm not wasting time on that hurry

See? Dream Woman Okay Okay, so, um, how about Amman? I asked. Oof, I haven't seen much in way of the Marvel movies. She shrugged. Got one you want to see, then? I asked as I stood up, slipping my huge work boots on. The boots, Cassandra, joke, could be used as lifeboats in the event of a catastrophic floods.

I don't know. What do you want to see? she asked, twirling a strand of that red hair around a finger. Very helpful, Foxy. Um, well, Mad Max Fury Road sounds like fun, I supplied. She tilted her head in thought. I'd shown her all three movies after I discovered our mutual love of Fallout, and she liked Thunderdome the most. Well, I'm more of a Road Warrior fan myself. Okay, Fury Road it is, she chirped.

It was wonderful to see her cheering and smiling like this. She was shaking and paraded the first month. after her ordeal, but, well, time, dates, and distracting schoolwork and recreation has got a way of helping you forget the horrors that have been visited upon you. I checked the listings on my phone, and the only showing that would conclude at a civilised time was at a drive-in theatre. It had been in town for as long as anyone could remember, near a trailer park. Every Sunday, there'd be a swap meet there, and on occasion we pay a visit to see what second-hand goodies we could find. I mentioned this And Cassandra hesitated

biting her lip anxiously Hey, it's all right We can wait for another show in We'll find another movie I said with a smile Scratching my fingers up and down her back The way she likes No

No, it's okay Let's go I shouldn't let some scary crap Define me for the rest of my life She shot to her feet a fist melodramatically thrust in the air. God, what a dork. What a beautiful, wonderful dork.

Taking my truck, we stopped at a gas station on the way to grab snacks. Since movie theatre's snack prices, usually somewhere between kidney and first-born child. But, at Cassandra's insistence, we got fresh popcorn from the concession stand. I've got to support the local business, after all. Fortunately, we like our popcorn the same way, drenched in that fluid they somehow get away with calling butter, and generously salted to the point that the mere side of the torso-sized tub of popcorn caused our arteries to shrivel up like twigs. Armed with our gas station candy, sodas and popcorn, we drove to a spot, tuned the radio to the driving frequency and relaxed.

ahead of us another couple in a little blue Prius were watching, frequently tearing themselves away to steal kisses while the cocker spaniel dog in the back stole mouthfuls of popcorn. Well, I relaxed.

Cassandra kept reaching into her purse to feel the comforting grip of her taser. The same one that had ended the life of her would-be murderer. She eventually settled down, sample some popcorn, nibbled on her snickers bar, sipped at her soda pop.

The film was extremely exciting, and it drew Cassandra in. I kept looking over at her, making sure she felt comfortable and was enjoying herself. That was more important to me than the film. Around the time Max blew up the guy decked out in ammo. Oh, I want that hat now, by the way. The intermission came. Fifteen minutes to get out of the car, relax, get a snack or use the facilities. Cassandra needed the latter most, and before asking me to go with her, I offered to escort her myself,

making sure I locked my truck, smiling reassuringly at her, I took her along to the restrooms. One of these brick affairs set up near the same building they kept the projectors in and sold concessions from. I waited outside and surveyed the dark landscape of cars, watching snacks and drinks dance invitingly on the screen. Yeah, real subtle. I leaned against the bricks near the women's restroom entrance, gazing up at the stars. You can make out most of them, given the small size of the towns around here. I heard jingling and clicking approaching from the drive-thru and glanced down, seeing the dog, that popcorn-stealing cock aspaniel, trotting along, leash trailing behind it.

Uh-oh, looks like we got a jail-breaker, I exclaimed with a laugh, bringing my giant boot down on the leash before leaning down to seize it. Let's get you about to your folks, silly boy. I walked the dog back towards our spot. I noticed the car ahead of my truck had its driver door wide open and was completely empty. I glanced towards the concession stand, spotting a few people, but none of them look like the couple from the car. I started to walk towards it. When the dog became immediately agitated, barking, growling and making a round.

real fuss. Easy now, buddy. It's all right. I consoled the unhappy K-9. I'm sure they're okay. That sounded like a hollow lie even to myself.

I slowly rounded the back of the couple's car and peered into the cabin. It was completely dark. So I fished out my phone and turned on the flashlight, shining it into the Park Prius. Dark,

red. So, the upholstery and the console. Oh my God. I saw a bloody hand sticking out from under the car, and the dog let out a mournful whimper. I scooped him up under one arm and scrambled like the devil himself

when nipping at my heels, darting back to the concession stand. I banged a fist on the door to the women's restroom. Occupied, Cassandra snarved from inside. Give me a minute. Cassie, baby. Lock the door in there. don't unlock it.

I bellowed, and staggered to the concession stand, scaring the crap out of the poor, acne-riddled freshmen with dark circles under his eyes, manning the place. Holy shit, dude! He yelled, bloodshot eyes widening in surprise. Listen, call the police. Someone's been hurt.

I yelled. He stared at me for a few moments, jaw slant. Oh, what? A skeptical mumble struggled its way from his mouth. murder call cops freaking now i bellowed banging my fist on the counter for emphasis done ran all the way back to the truck panting hard i tossed the dog into the back and snatched cassandra's taser from her purse I spun around just in time to see a dirty, haggard face framed by stringy, greasy hair and a pair of venomously angry, dark brown eyes boring into mine.

I got a half second to let out a startled shout before I felt a cold impact in my abdomen accompanied by rigid stiffness. It was tapeworm, and he just buried an old kitchen knife in my belly. I could tell it had penetrated abdominal muscles, but where the knife wound up, it was mostly adipose that was pierced. And the thick shall inherit the earth.

I'm a gentle saw by nature, and can count on one hand the number of fights I've been in. One time when I was in 4-H, one more thing I have in common with Cassie, and I held off a gang of kids from beating up my little brother. At Boy Scout camp, I got into a fight with the big lummox who picked on me excessively. Thirdly, I was shot in the torso by half. an idiot punk with his idiot girlfriend because they wanted to get into the fair after closing hours. I did the same thing when stabbed, that I did when shocked.

I became enraged. I have a deep-seated rage issue stemming from a ruined childhood at the hands of the ex-sistering role, the one I mentioned earlier, who tortured me whenever no one was around. From between when I was nine years old to when I was 12, When my brother divorced her for unrelated reasons, well, I never told anyone what happens, save for the counsellors, and frankly that's a lengthy story for another time. I always found outlets for that rage, so it never controlled me. Games, a little time at the sharpshooting range, a little kickboxing.

It vented perfectly. But when this poor, broken and delusional man stabbed me, it was something he immediately regretted. my vision reddened and i leap forward the same way i had after that chisel jaw-punk put a bullet in me i brought my fists down on him muscle-toned from long hours on the farm and ranch i grew up on burning as i struck him across the face as he screamed son get out the truck run away boy get help he cried to the cocker spaniel whose owners he'd butchered in a delusional stupor as i rained one blow after another down on him. You know that little bit of restraint you have? That restraint that keeps you from putting your full potential strength into a blow. That well-trained part of your super ego that has told you it's not good to hit people. Well, in that moment, as in the three fights of my life before,

that restraint fell away as I broke his jaw, cracked his cheekbone, felt his ribs crack under my unrelenting and brutal assault as all the built-up rage, frustration and angry. leaf inside me poured out into this man. Somewhere in all this fray, the knife had come out of me and I was bleeding all over. By the time the police arrived, I was standing over him and was bringing a size 13 triple E work boot down on his femur, snapping it like a toothpick. All the while, the movie continued. Seems a kid in the booth was too shaken to think to turn it off. And while in Morden Joe was driving his souped up hot rod on the big screen. The rest of the drive-in's patrons watched on, oblivious to the

mayhem happening less than a hundred feet away. The cop shone their light on me. I heard them bellow at me to stop, and when I looked up at them, the rage burned still. And according to the dash cam footage I later saw, thanks to a friend of the family in the police department, they had just caused to believe I was about to attack them. This distraction, though, was in the enough for my gentle signs. What I hope is my real self, to grab the reins again. The adrenaline rush ebbed, and after taking one step, my strength left me, like the blood of mine pulled around my feet.

I collapsed. I have faint memories of Cassandra walking alongside the gurney that the paramedics had managed to get my giant self onto, holding my hands. She caught me her warrior, her protector, her night in her. shining armour. Please, no, baby. Don't call me those things. She rode with me to the hospital, and I woke up to her and my family gathered around.

Cassie's dormmates were even there. Nicole, the activist girl, Jeannie, the nice but bubble-headed beauty queen who had yet to pick a major, and the perpetually cheerful and extra-thig gothaw, Gloria. My brothers joked about how I needed to get a slash on my tour. also, and my battle damage will be complete, after have been shot and stabbed now. Mum and Dad were their usual supportive selves. Cassander kept calling me brave, heroic and mighty. No, no, I'm none of those things.

The detective who came to interview me, Jack Cunningham, explained that the couple that Tateworm had attacked had not survived their injuries. Well, you really tore up that guy, cunning himself. I felt sick to my stomach, but not because of the dull pain where I'd been stabbed, which was throbbing with infection that a cocktail of painkillers in antibiotics was battling. I looked away from him, trying to hide my shame. Then he grinned. Can't say he didn't deserve it, Cunning himself.

No, God no, don't say that. Have I going to jail? I mumbled. This completely falls under self-defense. But you beat the guy to within an inch of his life, and he's probably going to end up in the funny farm, the detective said. This is what it took. This is what it takes before people who need it gets sent someplace

where they can hurt others or themselves. I'll come back with more questions and paperwork. But you go on and heal up, hero. This is pretty cut and dry. He said, giving me a thumbs up on his way out. friends and family drifted in and out over the next week and even the pirate sent a card saying tape wasn't right in the head

shame this happened get well soon brother he'd included a gift certificate for a big bottle of honeyjacks after I got out I would frequently glance at the other homeless folk no not because I was afraid of being attacked but looking for a scow a frown a dirty look something

anything to validate how loathsome I felt. Nothing off the sort. Why couldn't people see in me what I know exists? I finally went back to my dorm, hand in hand with Cassandra in one, and the leash of the newly adopted coccaspaniel in the other. And after sitting down, I hammered this whole story out. The monster I mentioned when I began?

No, it wasn't tapework. Beating a handicapped man with no control over his actions got labelled a heroic act. It shows hell doesn't feel heroic. The monster I referred to lives inside me. The hide to my jekyll. I know, on the surface, that I'd never hurt the ones I love, even when angry. But a primal fear always hides deep down. Our brains are divided into many different parts.

know why you get a headache looking at optical illusions that's your brain arguing over what it's seen whatever part of my brain that monster lives in I pray to all as good and holy that it's never unleashed again that's why I've gone back to counselling Cassandra says she's proud of me for it she's the only one I've ever told any of this to

well until now and I'll tell you all what she told me You're worth healing. You're worth helping. You're worth being happy. I implore you, friends. Battle those demons in your soul. Don't do it alone. Once we graduate, I'm going to ask Cassandra to marry me. My table-top game friends, Raoul and Mandy, gave me an engagement ring to give to her when the time's right. Well, I'm thinking Pismore Beach at the end of the pier. right when the moon is hovering over the ocean.

Just not at a drive-in movie any time soon. Would you survive the loneliest road in America? A midnight drive down Nevada's desolate Route 50 turns into a nightmare when a driver stumbles upon an overturned semi, abandoned cars and a group of terrified strangers huddling in the desert wind. Strange voices crackle through the radio, warning of a mysterious geological event. Something massive, fast and deadly is lurking in the darkness, clicking as it closes in.

Can they survive the hunt, or are they already too late? Buckle up for a chilling tale of isolation, terror, and the unknown. Stay in your car by Craig Grosheck. Part 1 Listen, before I start, if anyone finds this, if anyone reads this, you need to know. know something. I shouldn't be talking about this. It's been ten years since that night, and I've kept my mouth shut like I promised, even when I wanted to scream it from the rooftops. But the NDAs finally expired. I guess the people behind it figure enough time has passed,

that anyone who still remembers has moved on or being silenced. But not me. I still see it every time I close my eyes. I'm still risking my neck by speaking up. I'm still risking my neck by speaking up. A lot of money was spent keeping what happened buried, making people like me disappear one way or another. But I can't keep quiet any longer. I need to get this off my chest if only so someone else knows what's out there. If you're reading this, if you ever find yourself on a deserted highway in the middle of nowhere and something tells you to stay in your car, you better listen. Save my life that night. And if you're lucky, maybe it'll save yours too. starting on a dark, empty stretch of U.S. Route 50 in Nevada, just me and my 15-year-old Honda

chugging along through the desert, hours away from the nearest town. It's around 1 a.m. and the whole world was dead quiet. No cars in sight, no streetlights, just the black ribbon of asphalt stretching into the night and the occasional flash of a jackrabbit's eyes in my headlights. I shouldn't have been out there alone, but it's not like I had a choice. I was coming back, from a mandatory business trip in Reno, one of those we need you here in person kind of deals. My boss didn't care that it was the middle of the night and that it meant hours of driving through the Godforsaken desert. Not that I could say no. Besides, I figured the worst that would happen was that I'd have to crank up the radio and chug a few red bulls to stay awake.

That was before everything went to hell. I remember glancing at the clock, 1.17 a.m. when it started. The radio, which had been my only companion, fizzled out mid-song. One second I'm listening to some local station out of Carson City, and the next, it's just static. I fiddled with the dial, but there was nothing but dead air. And that's when I heard it. The voice, faint and crackling, like a whisper breaking through the static. Emergency alert, geological event. Remain in your vehicle.

remain. I leaned forward, straining to catch more, but it cut off, leaving me alone in the dark with nothing but that strange, heavy silence. My stomach twisted. A geological event? Out here? What the hell was that supposed to mean? It felt like a warning to turn back, and I'll admit I thought about it, but I told myself I was just being paranoid.

I shrugged it off, sped up a little, and focused on the road ahead. But then, just as I crested a small rise in the highway, I saw them, lights flashing in the distance, cutting through the darkness. At first I thought it was just a wreck, an overturned semi-blocking the lanes, some emergency vehicles parked around it. Well, a hassle, sure, but nothing to panic over. But as I got closer, I saw something that made my skin crawl. There weren't any flashing red and blue lights. No cops, no EMTs, just the steady blinking hazard lights of abandoned cars, all stopped in a crooked line around the wreck,

where they all tried to swerve and just died. My foot eased off the gas, I rolled to a stop a few car lengths back, the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end. The headlights from my car lit up the scene just enough for me to see that the semi was completely overturned, blocking both lanes. But what really caught my attention were the people standing around. A handful of them huddled together in the faint glow of their car interiors. Something was wrong.

I should have turned around right then, found some other way back. But instead I turned off my ignition, opened my door and stepped out. The wind hit me like a wall as soon as I stepped outside. Hot and dry, smelling faintly of dust and something else I couldn't place. Something metallic. I squinted, showing my eyes as a flashlight beam swung toward me. Hey, a man called out, his voice sharp and urgent. He was older, mid-60s maybe, with a wild mop of gray hair and a thick mustache that twitched as he spoke.

You shouldn't be out of your car. What's going on? I called back, my words half lost in the wind. He jogged over, stopping a few feet from me, his flogged. flashlight aimed low but steady. Damned if I know, he muttered, glancing nervously at the overturned semi. Road just buckled. No shaking, no warning, just bam.

Everything stalled out right after. Engines won't turn over. We're stuck. I look past him at the other drivers. An old pickup truck, a couple of beat-up sedans, a minivan. All of them dark, their drivers standing near. by, shifting uneasily. I counted seven people, including the old man, all huddled together like sheep waiting for the shepherd.

Could be an earthquake, I said, trying to sound casual, but the word tasted wrong on my tongue, or some kind of sinkhole. Maybe, he agreed quietly, but that's not what worries me. What do you mean? I asked. But before he could answer a young woman, mid-twenties, blonde hair pulled back in a messy done, poked her head out of one of the cars. Walter, she hissed, voice tense. Do you see anything?

Walter glanced over his shoulder and shook his head. No, Katie, just another driver. Katie turned her gaze to me, eyes wide and wild. You didn't see anything, did you? She asked, voice trembling. Nothing moving? My heart started pounding a little faster. No, nothing.

Just, well, just you folks. Thank God, she whispered, pulling back into the car. I could see her shoulder shaking. All to turn back to me, his face set in grim lines. Look, son, he said softly. You need to get back in your car. Stay there, don't get out again. Whatever's going on, it's not safe out here.

What do you mean? What happened? He shook his head. He wouldn't believe me if I told you. But listen, it's allegedly been some kind of geological event. Whatever that means. That's what the radio has been saying over and over. Emergency alerts.

Remain in your vehicle. I've been repeating it for the last hour. I stared at him, feeling the desert wind whipped through my head. That doesn't make any sense. It doesn't have to, he shot back, but something's out here, and it's hunting. I've seen it move through the rocks, big, fast, clicks when it gets close, hunting.

The word embedded itself in my mind. Open my mouth to respond, but before I could say a word, I heard it. A low, distant rumble, like the earth groaning. It rolled up through the ground, rattling my bones. Somewhere off in the dark, I swore I heard something else. A soft, rapid, my blood ran cold. Walter's eyes met mine, hard and scared.

Get in your car, he whispered fiercely, and for God's sake, stay there. I didn't wait to be told again. I turned and practically sprinted by. back to my Honda. I slammed the door shut, locked it, and pressed my back against the seat, breathing hard. The radio crackled to life again. The voice faint but clear. Remain in your vehicle. Do not exit. Remain in it. I turned the volume down, pulse still racing. Then I leaned forward and peered out through the windshield. Far down the road past the line of dead cars in the reg semi. Some

they moved, just a shadow just for a second. But it was there, and it was watching us. Part two. The first thing I did after getting back in the car was hit the log button about a dozen times. The little thunk, thunk of the locks kept repeating, but I didn't stop until I was sure, until it felt like that flimsy metal door could keep out whatever was out there. I stayed there for a few minutes, clutching the steering wheel like a lifeline, staring out into the night. The highway was swallowed by darkness, and beyond the wrecked semi-scan scattered cars, the desert stretched out forever. I strained my eyes, peering into the black for any sign of movement. Nothing.

The others must have had the same idea. I saw the vague outline of water ducking back into the truck behind mine, his flashed light flickering off. One by one the others slipped into their vehicles. The faint glow of headlights died, leaving us all shrouded in near total darkness. But the thing was still out there. I knew it, and so did they. I fumbled for my phone, trying to call for help one more time. Still no signal, no matter how much I stared at the screen, willing it to change. Useless. I was cut off, completely alone, except for a few strangers and whatever the hell was moving out there in the rocks. Then I heard it again.

It was soft, so soft I almost thought I'd imagined it, like the sound a kid makes when they snap their tongue against the roof of their mouth, kind of low, irregular ticking that raised every hair on my arms. I craned my neck, turning my head toward the passenger side window, holding my breath. I didn't see anything, but that didn't mean it wasn't there. Stay calm, Ross, I whispered to myself, don't freak out. But it wasn't easy. In everything about the scene, the overturned semi, the cars abandoned at awkward angles, the people

cowering in their vehicles, the metallic tang in the air, it felt off. I could take in a wrong turn and ended up somewhere I shouldn't be. I kept replaying Walter's warning in my head. Don't leave the car. matter what. I almost laughed out loud. What choice did I have? There was nowhere to go, nothing to do but wait for morning,

hoped for a tow truck or some highway patrol to roll through and start sorting things out. But deep down I knew that wasn't going to happen, not out here in the dead of night in the middle of nowhere. That's when the clicking came again. A little closer this time. I turned off the interior lights, plunging my seat. into complete darkness. My fingers fumbled, trembling as I adjusted the seat and eased myself lower, trying to make myself as small as possible. Maybe if I kept out of sight it wouldn't see me.

Maybe. A faint flash of movement just outside the driver's side window. A blur of darkness, something low to the ground. Moved too quickly for me to make out any details, but I caught the impression of slick, black skin, something glistening under the faint moonlight. I froze, forcing myself to breathe shallowly. It stopped near the front of my car, a shadow among shadows. Then it lifted one limb, thin, bird-like, ending in a set of long, curved claws. It rested its clawed hand or foot on the hood of my car, just inches away from my windshield. My heart stuttered, I could feel it beating in my throat, threatening to choke me.

The creature moved its head slowly, almost lazily, turning in my direction. I couldn't see its face, couldn't make out anything beyond that long, sinuous limb and the dark bulk of its body. But I felt its gaze, like a pressure building behind my eyes, a sense of something malevolent and curious peering through the glass. The claws flexed, tapping lightly against the glass. the metal. I didn't move, didn't breathe. Another soft click, this time from behind, then another off to my left. Oh God, there was more than one. The creature turned sharply at the sound, clicking back rapidly. I had no idea what he was saying, if it was communicating, signaling in the others, or just taunting me. But whatever it meant, the others responded in kind.

Dozens of soft, eerie clicks echo through the night, moving in a slow, deliberate rhythm. They came from all sides, too many to count, surrounding the line of cars. I clenched my teeth, trying to fight back the panic rising in my chest. Stay calm, I told myself. Stay quiet. They don't know you're here. But they did. I could feel it in my bones.

the same way you can feel a thunderstorm rolling in or a predator's eyes watching you from the tree line. My gaze drifted to the truck behind mine. I could just barely make out Walter's silhouette through the rear window. He was crouched low in the driver's seat, eyes wide and staring. I knew he could see it too. See them. I glanced at the other cars in the row.

My fellow travellers huddled in the darkness. silent, waiting. A small movement caught my eye, Katie in the car next to Walters, slowly lifting a piece of paper to her window. She held it up for a few seconds, just long enough for me to read the word scribbled in thick, frantic strokes. Don't, like I needed the reminder. Then before I could blink, the creature in front of my car lowered itself to all fours

and scuttled sideways, disappearing into the dark. I watched it go, my muscles locked up tight, half expecting it to turn and launch itself at me. But it didn't. It was moving away back toward the rocks. And the clicking sounds were growing softer. My whole body felt numb, like I'd been holding my breath for hours. The thing was leaving. They all were.

Whatever had drawn them here, they were losing interest. And I heard it. A sharp metallic clang, followed by a man's voice. What the hell is this? Get off my car. My heart sank. I twisted in my seat, craning to look down the line of vehicles. At the far end to the driver of a battered pickup was half out of his door, waving a flashlight wildly.

His face was flushed red, mouth twisted in a snarl. Even from this distance I could see the way his hand shook as he brandished the flashlight like a weapon. Get off, he shouted, jabbing the beam at something I couldn't see. I'm warning you. The entire line of cars seemed to hold its breath. I saw Walter frantically waving his hands, mouthing something that the man didn't see, didn't care.

And then the creature lunged. It happened so fast I almost didn't register it. One moment the man was shouting, trying to shove his way out of the truck, the next something huge and black slammed into him, knocking the flashlight out of his hand. I heard the crunch of metal, the shriek of torn fabric, and a wet, horrible ripping sound. The man screamed lasted all of three seconds.

I clapped a hand over my mouth, biting down hard to stop myself from making a sound. The creature reared up, silhouetted against the pale glow of the flashed light as it bent over him. I saw the gleam of teeth, long, needle-like, stained dark, and then it struck again, tearing into the man's throat. His body jerked once, twice, then went limp. And then, just as suddenly as it appeared, the thing straightened, tossing the body aside like a discarded rag doll. It turned slowly, claws flexing, its head swiveling as it sniffed the air.

And then it looked right at me. I couldn't move, couldn't even blink. I just sat there, heart pounding, staring into the darkness. Took a step forward, cocking its head like a curious animal. The clicking started again, rapid and frantic. I realized dimly that it wasn't coming from the creature in front of me. It was coming from everywhere. The others were answering.

The creature hesitated, claws twitching, and then with a final growl, it turned and loped back toward the pickup. Shoveed its head inside the cab, sniffing around the ruined interior, and then disappeared into the rocks behind. I slump back in my seat, every muscle trembling. For a moment I thought I was going to throw up. All I wanted was to twist the ignition key, fire the engine, and get out of there. I could feel the urge in every muscle, a raw, desperate instant. instinct to flee. But the memory of Walter's warning and the sight of those things, lingering just beyond the headlights, made me freeze. What if the engine roared to life, and they all

turned on me? I couldn't take the chance. Somehow I held it together, forcing myself to stay still, to stay quiet. The escape wasn't going to be that easy, and I knew it wasn't over. It had just begun. Part three. The night stretched endless. Lastly, every tick of my watch felt slower than the last, each second dragging on as if time itself had come to a standstill. The desert around us was unnervingly still, too quiet except for the intermittent click-click-click noises skittering in and out at the dark. Walter had been right. The worst thing I could do was to leave the car, but staying in it wasn't exactly reassuring either. My back ached from sitting too long And my heart pounded in my chest

As if trying to hammer its way out of my rib cage I kept expecting the thing One of them, all of them To return at any moment and tear the door right off the hinges Katie's note kept flashing through my head Don't move I stayed still My breathing shallow hoping the creatures would lose interest

But the silence was worse than the sounds. If I could hear them clicking, at least I'd know where they were. Now every shadow seemed alive, every bump of the road against the car felt like the start of another attack. Then the radio crackled again, just static at first, like a ghost in the machine. But through the static, the automated emergency broadcast returned, eerily calm. Remain to your vehicle. Do not leave for any reason. A wait for other instructions. I turned the volume down to a whisper, as if the noise alone might attract the creatures. My hands trembled against the steering wheel. I felt like they were waiting for us to

break to make a mistake. I just hoped I wouldn't be the first to crack. Then I heard it. Movement from a few cars down. A crack of metal, the sharp slam of a car door. Someone else was getting out. I whispered, leaning forward, straining to see. It was another young man, someone I hadn't met yet, driving a blue pickup. He was fumbling with the truck bed, yanking something out from under a top. A flashlight beam flickered in his hand, shaky but stubborn as he dragged a tire iron free from the mess. His whole body screamed panic. "'You're an idiot!' I whispered under my breath. Get back in the truck, man. Walter must have seen him too.

Through his windshield, I saw his shadow move, his head shaking slowly, like he knew exactly what was coming next. The guy in the pickup gripped the tire iron and stood frozen for a moment, glancing wildly around the highway. Then, against all reason, he took off toward the rocks.

What are you doing? I hissed aloud, even though he couldn't hear me. When he ran, his flashlight bobbing wildly until he was swallowed by the dark. For a moment, everything was quiet again. No clicks, no sounds. Just the heavy silence of the desert. Then came the noise, sharp and violent.

Clang! The tire iron hit something, and the noise echoed out across the empty highway like a gunshot. And then the clicking began. hundreds of clicks all around us overlapping and frantic like an alarm going on. The creatures had heard him. A man's flashlight beam whipped around wildly in the darkness. He screamed, and then something heavy slammed into him. I heard him hit the ground hard, followed by the awful crunch of bones breaking.

I covered my mouth to keep from making a sound, watching as something black and slick dragged him back towards the rock. He kicked once, twice, and his legs disappeared into the shadows. The flashlight flickered one last time before going out completely. Just like that, the creatures were back among us. I slunk lower into my seat, every muscle tensing. Outside my car I could hear the light scuffle of claws against metal, a faint tap of glass being tested. One of them crawled over the roof of the car next to me, making the frame groan under its weight.

Stay still. Stay quiet. A woman two cars down started sobbing softly, a mother with a toddler. I could hear her whispering frantically, trying to soothe the child, but the sound only seemed to stir the creatures more. One of them crawled toward her vehicle, slow and deliberate, testing the windows with the a series of curious taps. The taps turned to loud, deliberate knocks. Then the thing let out a burst of rapid clicks, and another one answered from the darkness.

The toddler whimpered, and the mother's soft shushing turned into a panicked whisper. Please, please don't. Glass shattered. I turned away, clenching my fists as I heard a high-pitched scream, a short piercing whale that was cut off as quickly as it started. Something thudded against the pavement.

I didn't need to look to know what it was. Panic swelled in my chest. I wanted to help her. I wanted to do something. But Walter's warning echoed in my head. Stay in your car. Don't leave no matter what. The creatures move quickly, slipping between the cars like shadows.

One of them leaped onto Walter's truck, claws scraping as it searched for a way inside. I could just barely make out his face through the windshield, calm, composed but pale as death. He gave me a slow nod, a silent reminder. We just had to survive. That was all. The minutes stretched into hours. The clicking noises would come and go, like tides ebbing and flowing and flowing through. the night. Sometimes I could hear the faint crunch of gravel as the creatures moved away,

only to circle back moments later. Katie stayed put in the car next to Walters. Her silhouette slumped low in the seat. She'd been smart, quiet, still, but I could see the fear in the way she gripped the steering wheel, white-knuckled and unmoving. Somewhere further down the line, another man was muttering under his breath. His voice was low and rhythm. His voice was low and rhythmic, like a chant or a prayer. I don't know if it was helping him, but it was started to get on my nerves. Then came another noise, the slow, deliberate groan of a door opening. I snapped my head toward the sound.

Someone else was making a run for it. It was Katie. She eased her door open just enough to slip out, then hunched low and started crawling along the ground, trying to stay hidden. I wanted to shout at her to stop to get back inside, but I didn't dare make a sound. She was heading for the overturned semi, where the creatures had first emerged. Walter saw her too. He pressed his forehead against the window, eyes wide with disbelief.

What are you doing, Katie? I whispered hoarsely. The creatures must have heard her too. The clicking started again, soft at first and faster, louder. Katie froze for a moment, weighing her options. Then she bolted toward the truck, her footsteps light but urgent. The clicking turned frantic. They were coming. Katie made it to the truck, diving under the wreckage, just as one of the creatures lunged after her.

It missed her by inches, slamming into the side of the semi with enough force to make the whole frame shudder. For a moment, the creature thrashed. Washed wildly, clawing at the metal, its body writhing like a snake. Then, with a final frustrated click, it scuttled away, disappearing into the night. Katie stayed hidden under the truck, breathing hard. Walter led out of breath. I did too. But we knew it wasn't over, not yet.

The creatures were still out there, circling, waiting for the next move. It was only a matter of time before one of us slipped. I glanced down at the gas gauge on my dashboard, a part of me desperate to turn the key and gun it and leave everyone else behind. But with the car off, I couldn't tell how much fuel I had left, or if it would even start again. And the creatures were closer now, so close that I could hear every click, every shift of their weight

as they moved from car to car. The memory of the other victims flashed in my mind, and fear washed over me, I couldn't risk even the smallest sounds, not when I knew what the engine rumble might do. If we didn't find a way out soon, I wasn't sure any of us would make it. I swallowed hard. The clicking was getting closer. Much closer, part four.

The night had taken on a surreal quality, every second dragging like hours, every breath too loud in the claustrophobic space of my car. I get my movement small and quiet, trying to stay invisible. The creatures were still out there. I could hear them clicking softly, scraping against the cars like they were testing the strength of the metal. Walter stayed inside his truck, historic but tense. Katie was still under the overturned semi, her silhouette just barely visible in the dim starlight. Every few moments I saw her shift slightly, hugging her knees as if she could make herself disappear. And the sound of something heavy, metal being bent, twisted, came from the far end of the line of vehicles.

Someone had snapped. Their voice rose, shrill and desperate, cracking with the strain of panic. I can't do this. I can't. Get me out of here. Twisted in my seat to look toward his car. His door was wide open, and he was halfway out, dragging what a lot of it. appeared to be his wife with him. She was sobbing, clinging to his arm, begging him to stop, but he was too far gone. We have to move, Judy, he hissed, his voice cracking.

They'll kill us if we stay. Don't you get it? We're sitting ducks. Alan, no, please, Judy whimpered, stumbling as he yanked her forward. They stumbled between the cars, making too much noise, their shoes scuffing on the gravel. That's when the clicking started again, louder, closer and much more aggressive. Water banged on the inside of his windshield, mouthing the words, get back inside. But Alan either didn't see or didn't care. Frantically, he dragged Judy toward the open desert. The clicking intensified, I saw a dark shape slither out from behind a nearby SUV.

Oh, God! I whispered. The creature pounced before Alan could take another step. One moment he was dragging his wife forward the next thing hit him like a freight train. He crumpled to the ground under its weight. The breath knocked out of him in a loud grunt. Judy screamed. The sound so raw and heart-wrenching that it felt like a knife slicing through the air.

She tried to pull him free, clawing at the thing's slick black body, but it was too late. The creature's claws flashed, and Judy's scream cut off with a sickening thunk as her head snapped backward, her body-going limp. I squeezed my eyes shut, but the sound wouldn't stop, the wet crunch of bones breaking the scrape of claws against flesh, awful animalistic sounds of the creature tearing into his prey. Alan never stood a chance.

The creature dragged their body. back toward the rocks, leaving a tread of blood behind. I forced myself to breathe, even though every inhalation tasted like acid. My hands were clammy on the steering wheel, and I felt like I might pass out. Walter's face was pale as chalk, but he held my gaze through the windshield, mouthing the words, Don't move. Don't you dare.

I nodded, biting the inside of my cheek to keep from making a sound. There was nothing we could do, no way to save them. Now we were out of options. The creatures had thinned our numbers again, and I could feel them circling closer, emboldened by their latest kill. We had to get out of here. Katie shifted under the semi, a hand waving urgently toward Walter. She pointed to the far end of the overturned truck,

where the metal frame had bent just enough to create a narrow crawl space. He looked barely large enough for a person to slip under, but from the way Katie gestured I could tell it was the only real protection she saw, especially if the creatures came after us. Water glanced at me, his eyes wide, suddenly asking if I was ready to move. He didn't say a word. None of us dared, but the urgency in his expression was enough.

He and Katie were making their move toward the edge of the lots, maybe closer to the open road where they could plan and escape down the highway. From his posture, I could tell he was inviting me to come with them. I hesitated, gripping the steering wheel. Water's plan made sense, but in the back of my mind, an idea sparked. I could try my car one more time. If it worked, I could escape this mess entirely. I didn't know these people. I didn't owe them anything. If the engine turned over, I'd be out of here in seconds. Katie and Walter held their position, watching me. waiting for me to decide.

I forced myself to breathe and gave them a brief nod, signaling that I be with them soon. Walter nodded back, and then, with practiced caution, he crept across the gravel, weaving between the abandoned cars and managing to avoid drawing any attention. He slipped under the semi,

joining Katie, who waved frantically for me to hurry. They waited, hidden under the metal frame, but I turned my attention to the, ignition key in my hand. Just one last chance. My pulse raced as I twisted the key. Nothing. I swallowed hard and tried again, turning the key a little harder, pressing my foot on the gas as if that would somehow change things. The engine gave a series of sickly sputters, coughing and stuttering, but it wouldn't catch. My heart pounded faster as I twisted the key one more time, willing the engine to roar to life. But the only sound was a horrible, grating wine,

like something broken and dying. I heard Walter slap his hand against the underside of the semi in frustration, and Katie's face, tense and pale, was a mix of anger and desperation. She raised her hands, silently begging me to stop. Then came the clicking, a frenzied, electrifying burst of it, surrounding me from all sides. My chest tightened with terror as I realized I'd drawn the creature's attention. I stopped trying the engine, yanking the key from the ignition, and threw myself out of the car. The darkness seemed alive with movement, shadows darting between vehicles, growing closer with every passing second. My heart thundered as I bolted across the gravel, every muscle screaming at me to move faster,

to get to the semi before they reached me. I threw myself under the truck, scrambed. into the narrow space between Katie and Walter, just as the first clawed hands slammed into the car I'd just abandoned, before descending upon the semi moments later. The creatures clicked and furiously clawed at the semi's undercarriage, their frustration growing with each unsuccessful attempt to reach us. Several creatures slithered past the semi, their black, oily bodies gliding through the dark like shadows.

They paused momentarily, sniffing the air. their clawed feet tapping on the gravel. I held my breath, willing my body to stay perfectly still. Every nerve in my body screamed at me to run, but I knew that even the smallest movement would make things worse. The creatures clicked softly, as if tasting the surroundings, and then slinked away. I exhaled slowly, shaking uncontrollably.

Beside me, Katie and water lay still, frozen in place. Slowly the clicking faded as the creatures withdrew, apparently losing interest when they couldn't break through. After a few minutes of tense silence, we dared to exchange glances. Our relief tinged with the bitterness of exhaustion. Katie looked at me, her expression a mix of anger and disbelief. What the hell were you thinking? She whispered fiercely.

Trying to start the car? You could have gotten us killed, and clenched my jaw, but I didn't argue. She was right. But I was past defending myself. If you had a working car, you'd have done the same thing, I muttered. Now I couldn't keep the shame from my voice. Water gave me a look, but didn't say anything. Our expression said it all. We were drained. We stayed under the truck a while longer, gathering what little strength we had left,

each of us knowing that as soon as the creatures retreated far enough, we'd have to make a break for it. When the time came, water shifted beside me, his face a mask of grim determination. We move on three, he whispered, so quietly I almost didn't hear him. One, two. Before he could say three, a deafening crash shattered the stillness. One of the creatures had slammed into a nearby car, sending glass and metal flying. He was angry, furious.

and the sound of its rage echoed through the night. Walter didn't wait. He grabbed Katie's arm and pulled her forward, motioning for me to follow. We scrambled out from under the semi, staying as low as possible. The creatures were distracted, tearing into the abandoned car with a kind of frantic glee,

and we used the opportunity to make our escape. We bolted toward the far end of the lot, our footsteps light and fast. The overturned semi-shielded us from view, but I knew it wouldn't be long before the creatures noticed we were gone. Or to reach the edge of the lot first, his eyes scanning the horizon. Katie was right behind him, panting softly but determined. I brought up the rear, my legs burning with every step.

And just as we reached the open road, the clicking started again. Louder, angrier. They knew we were running. We didn't stop, we couldn't. We ran down the highway, hearts pounding, with the sound of clicking growing louder behind us. The creatures were gaining, their claws scraping against the asphalt, their clicks rising to a fever pitch.

We kept going, even when every muscle in my body screamed for rest. We didn't have a choice. Creatures were right behind us, and if we stopped, if we slowed down for even a second, they tear us apart. There's no way of knowing if salvation lay ahead, or if we were running straight into the jaws of the unknown. All I knew was that we had to keep moving,

and pray we made it through the night. Bart Five. We ran until my lungs burned, the highway stretching endlessly ahead of us, and the sharp clicking of claws echoing behind us. The creatures were closing in, faster than I'd imagined, anything that size could move. Their glicks formed a chaotic chorus, each sound sharp and distinct,

like they were speaking to each other. Walter was the first to spot the maintenance tunnel, a narrow rusted grate set into the shoulder of the road, barely visible in the moonlight. There, he shouted, waving us toward it. Gady reached it first, yanking at the grate with trembling hands. He didn't budge. It stuck. Walter caught up, shoving her aside gently but firmly. Move. Got it. He wedged the edge of the tire iron into the seam and pried with all his strength. The great gave way with a metallic screech, the noise far too loud in the still night. The creatures heard it. A risk to glance behind us. A pair of glistening. A pair of glistening. black shapes scuttled across the asphalt, low to the ground but terrifyingly fast.

One of them leaped onto a car hood with the grace of a predator, claws digging into the metal like it was butter. Its head twitched toward us, teeth gleaming. Water looked back at me and shouted, inside now. Katie scrambled into the tunnel first, wriggling through the tight space, the metal scraping against her jacket. Walter threw the greater side and followed right behind her, his broad shoulders barely fitting through the opening. I hesitated, gripping the tire iron in my hand, hard hammering in my chest.

The first creature hit the ground just feet away from me, its claws glicking madly as it skittered forward. There was no time left. I dove head first into the tunnel, my body scraping against the rusted edges. All to grab my arm and yanked me deeper inside, slamming the grate shut behind us, just as the creature plowed into the edge of the grate.

It shrieked, an ear-piercing, angry sound, slammed its weight against the tunnel entrance, shaking the entire structure. Go, Walter hissed, shoving me forward. Crawl, damn it. The tunnel was pitch black. the only sounds our ragged breathing and the scrape of our clothes

against the metal walls behind us the creatures clawed and thumped at the entrance they're clicking now rapid and furious I didn't look back I couldn't the tunnel stretched longer than I'd expected

sloping downward into the earth the air growing cooler and thicker with every step my hands felt slick with sweat and blarred from earlier cuts but I kept moving, pushing forward on trembling arms and legs. Behind me, Walter grunted in pain. Go on, he whispered through clenched teeth. I'll slow him down.

I glanced back. What the hell are you talking about? I'm not making it, he said grim but steady. They're too close. You and Katie, keep going. No. Katie's voice came from somewhere ahead, high-pitched and desperate. You're coming, too. We're not leaving you.

Walter shook his head, his eyes sad but determined. Get the hell out of here, he growled. Now, I wanted to argue, but the sound of claws scraping metal snapped me back to reality. The creatures had found a way through the tunnel entrance, and they were coming. Faster now, shrieking and snarling as they closed the gap between us. Walter turned back, brandishing the tire iron like a sword. His eyes locked with mine one last time, a wordless message passing between us. Run, save yourselves.

I swallowed hard, nodded and crawled forward, ignoring my burning limbs and the ache in my chest. Katie was waiting for me a few feet ahead, tears streaming down her dirt-streaked face, her body trembling with fear and exhaustion. We have to go, I whispered, more to myself than to her. We have to keep going. We crawled deeper into the tunnel, leaving Walter behind. His grunts and the metallic clang of the tire iron echoed behind us. Then came the terrible, wet crunch of something heavy landing.

Walter let out a strangle cry and then, nothing. Just silence. Katie sobbed quietly, but we didn't stop. The tunnel opened abruptly into a narrow drainage ditch on the other side of the highway. We tumbled out into the open air, gasping for breath, the cold night wind biting at our skin. For a brief, glorious moment, we felt free. Then the clicking started again, this time from both ends of the tunnel. They're coming, Katie cried, scrambling to her feet.

I grabbed her arm and pulled her forward, adrenaline numbing the pain in my legs. There, just down the road, a flicker of red and blue lights, emergency vehicles. They found us, I gasped, half-dragging Katie toward the flashing lights. We stumbled toward the line of vehicles, waving our arms wildly. Katie shouted for help, her voice cracking. I could barely hear her over the sound of my own heartbeat thudding. in my ears. The emergency responders, police officers, EMTs and men in hazmat suits rushed towards us. I've heard a strange mix of relief and terror, knowing the creatures were still behind us,

knowing that we'd made it only by seconds. Get down, one of the officers shouted, raising his weapon. I dropped to the ground, pulling Katie with me as a burst of gunfire echoed through the night. I heard the creature's shriek in fury, their bodies hitting the ground with heavy thuds. The clicking stopped, replaced by an eerie silence. It was over, or so I thought. The men in hazmat suits descended on us, pulling us roughly to our feet. One of them shoved a clipboard into my hands, his voice cold and detached. Sign this.

What? I stammered, my mind still reeling from the night's events. What is this? Non-disclosure agreement, the man said flatly. Sign it, or you'll be detained. Katie clutched my arm, her eyes wide with disbelief. You've got to be kidding me. After everything we...

Sign, the man repeated, his voice sharp and final. Now. I look down at the clipboard, the words swimming in my vision. My hand shook as I scrawled my name across the bottom. Katie followed suit, her expression blank, like she was in shock. The moment we finished, the men pulled us aside and handed us identical envelopes. Compensation, one of them muttered. For your trouble.

I stared at the envelope, disgust, churning in my gut. They were covering it up. The creatures, the deaths, everything. and we were just loose ends, tied up with hush money. As we were escorted to the waiting ambulances, I glanced back at the highway. The creature's bodies were already being loaded into unmarked vans, their strange black forms hidden beneath thick tarps. No one would ever know what really happened that night.

No one except us. Bart six. The ambulance was cold and smelled faintly of bleach. Katie sat beside me, silent and staring into nothing. Her hands clenched so tightly in her lap that her knuckles had turned white. The hazmat-suited men talked quietly outside the ambulance, exchanging clipped sentences like we were just another routine clean-up. A blanket was thrown over my shoulders,

and one of the EMTs gave me a bottle of water, but the kindness was hollow, mechanical. No one asked what we'd seen. No one asked if we were okay. They didn't need to because they already knew. They were part of it. I glanced down at the envelope in my hand. It felt heavy, though.

I knew it only held a check and a stern reminder that talking would come with consequences. Thought about water, his grim smile, the way he'd swung that tire iron knowing he wouldn't make it. They'd probably write him off as one of the casualties, along with Alan, Judy and the others. Katie's voice finally broke the silence. How can they just cover this up? I shook my head and not trusting myself to answer, because I knew exactly how they'd do it. A couple of staged accidents,

maybe a gas leak or an animal attack in the official report. They'd sprinkle the deaths over a few days, burying them in statistics so no one would see the pattern. Anyone who knew the truth would be long gone. or silent. Just like us. They dropped us off at the edge of a small town I didn't recognize, some lonely outpost along the highway.

No explanations, no offers to help. Just a quiet reminder to keep our mouth shut. As they disappeared back into the desert, taking the bodies and the wreckage with them. The moment they were gone, Katie broke down, sobbing into her hands. I wanted to say something, anything. to make it better. But what was there to say? We were alive. That was supposed to mean something,

but all I felt was emptiness. Katie eventually stood, wiping her face with the back of her hand. What now? she whispered. I looked out toward the empty highway, the sky still dark, with only a faint hint of dawn on the horizon. We go home, I said. Though the word felt far, The days that followed blurred together. I managed to get back to my apartment, my girlfriend Claire and my job, but none of it felt real. Claire asked me how the trip had gone, why I hadn't called, what had happened to my car. I gave her the official explanation, that there was no cell coverage in the desert and that there had been a delay, something about a roadblock on the way back. Along the way I told her my ancient Honda had finally given up the ghost.

She bought it. I think she was just relieved. I was home. The next day we went out and got me a new car and life went on. Everything started falling back into place. But it wasn't really there. Not all of me. Part of me was still stuck in that tunnel, hearing Walter's last shout, feeling the scrape of claws on metal,

and waiting for the next click. Every time I closed my eyes, I was back on that highway, trapped, with the creatures crawling all over the vehicles. I kept the envelope in a drawer unopened. I didn't want to know how much my silence was worth. It was a few weeks later when I found myself back on Route 50. I don't know why I went. Maybe I needed closure. Maybe I just needed to see it for myself to prove that the road wasn't haunted.

that it was just a place, just asphalt and dust. The highway looked exactly the same as it had that night, empty, endless, surrounded by the vast, silent desert. No sign of the overturned semi, no trace of the vehicles or the blood that had soaked into the gravel. It was like none of it had ever happened. But as I drove past the spot where we'd been hunted, massacred, the radio crackled. First it was just static. I almost laughed, thinking it was just a bad signal.

But then through the static I could have sworn I heard a familiar voice whisper. Remain in your vehicle. Aw wait further instructions. I froze, gripping the wheel so tight my knuckles went white. The message repeated once, twice, and the static swallowed it whole, leaving only silence. I drove faster out. after that, not daring to look in the rearview mirror.

But even now, long after I've left that highway behind, I can't shake the feeling that I wasn't alone out there. But somewhere in the dark, those creatures are still waiting, watching, ready to hunt again. So, if you ever find yourself out there on Route 50, and your car stalls or the radio tells you to stay inside, listen or better yet

turn around and get out of there fast because if you don't you might not make it home and so once again we reach the end of tonight's podcast my thanks as always to the authors of those wonderful stories

and to you for taking the time to listen now I'd ask one small favour of you wherever you get your podcast wrong please write a few nice words and leave a five-star review as it really helps the podcast. That's it for this week, but I'll be back again, same time, same place,

and I do so hope you'll join me once more. Until next time, sweet dreams and bye-bye.