Scary Horror Stories by Dr. NoSleep - The Police Chase That Never Ends

Episode Date: June 15, 2026

After a brutal bank robbery goes sideways, two brothers tear down a backroad with a cop car gaining on them — even though they know that officer should be dead. But the longer the chase goes on, the more it feels less like an escape… and more like a punishment that never ends. Listen ad-free, get over 90 exclusive bonus stories and early access to multi-part stories with a 7-day FREE TRIAL of Dr. NoSleep Premium: ⁠⁠⁠patreon.com/drnosleep⁠⁠ – Cancel anytime. No commitment. Huge thanks to our sponsors: BetterHelp: Sign up now and get 10% off at ⁠betterhelp.com/dns⁠. Shopify: Sign up for your $1 per month trial today at shopify.com/dns. Author:  Jake Bible Check out Jake's latest collection of stories, They All Bleed: Ten NoSleep Stories, Volume Two https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0G96H432Y * * * CONTENT DISCLAIMER: This episode contains explicit content not limited to intense themes, strong language, and depictions of violence intended for adults. Parental guidance is strongly advised for children under the age of 18. Listener discretion is advised.  #drnosleep #scarystories #horrorstories #doctornosleep #creepypasta #horror Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

If you're into horror with a heavy dose of sci-fi, classified experiments, and things humanity was never meant to understand, check out my other podcast, the SCP experience. Each episode pulls you into the hidden world of the SCP Foundation, where dangerous anomalies are studied, contained, and sometimes unleashed. These aren't just scary stories. They're classified nightmares. Click here to listen now or search for the SCP experience wherever you get your podcasts. Push the RPMs to the red line, grabbing enough power to pull us out of the turn, then I floor it, hoping to make progress on the straightaway. He's still behind us, Maddy. What the hell, man? How is this even possible? I don't know. I mean, you saw him, right? All that blood? How the hell is he chasing us? And that supercharged dodges howl?

You think this is funny? It's not goddamn funny, Maddie. We're screwed if he catches us. Just shut up and let me drive. It's your damn panicking that got us into this. mess. You know that, right? I spare a look at my little brother. I can see the angry pout already starting to form on his face. His whole life, that angry pout, has been his go-to when he doesn't like what he hears, especially if it's coming for me. I didn't have a choice. I lean over just a little. What was that? I didn't quite hear you. I said, I didn't have a choice. I shake my head and focus my full attention on the road. In the rearview mirror, just coming around the corner is the Dodge, with that damn cop driving it.

The blues and reds are flashing brightly, illuminating the dark road on all sides of the cop's car. Skinny pines and scraggly locusts look like ominous wraiths as they bend along the roadside. Silent sentinels bordering our nightmare chase. Zeke seeds in the passenger seat. The pump-action shotgun lying across his lap. The barrel still has blood splattered across it. Some of it dark black after being cooked by the.

the hot metal. He hates being called out on his crap. He especially hates it when I'm the one doing the calling out. He should have left us alone. I glanced in the rearview again. Well, he's definitely not leaving us alone now. How? You saw him! I did. I saw him. I saw it all. We charged through the bank's front door like a couple of bulls, ready to break a metric butthload of China. Zeke takes up his position next to the security guard, his shotgun aimed at the man's belly. You aim for the head, and they start thinking they can duck and get out of the way of the blast. You aim for the belly, and they know that no matter which way they move, they're losing their guts, and most likely what's between their legs.

I go straight to the first teller and make sure she gets a good look at the empty, black eye of the barrel of my 44. It's a huge gun, and mostly used for show. Sure, it'll put a hole as big as a dinner plate in someone if they try me, but it has never gotten to that point. Most people see the size of the pistol and piss themselves silly trying to give me what I want, mainly so they never have to see the gun again. Unfortunately, they'll see the gun again, especially in the quiet of the night, when it rears its ugly head and the nightmares they'll have for the next few months.

Trauma's a bitch. I toss a satchel onto the counter, shoving it through the plexiglass window. You know what to do? Put a tracker bundle or die pack in there, and I'll make sure Alicia never makes it home from school. We understood? Social media has made our jobs a lot easier. A quick recon of the bank, and we have the names of each teller working. A simple search on Facebook, and we see most of their lives, their spouses, their pets, their children.

We can see their dining out routines, where their in-laws live, and which of their co-workers they hang out with after hours. The woman before me, Angela Ponder, has a six-year-old daughter named Alicia. Her husband is a long-haul trucker, so he's only around on weekends. That makes Angela a perfect target, because she knows she has no one to lean on when it comes to protecting dear little Alicia. Please. That's all she manages to croak out. Fear overtakes her, and her voice gets lost in the terror looping through her head.

She has no idea what is happening to Alicia. Is someone watching her? Does someone already have her? Will she ever see her baby girl again? All of this is rushing through her mind as she robotically starts filling the satchel with stacks of cash. I tapped the pistol barrel against the plexiglass, making her whimper and wince. No dive packs, Angela, no tracker bundles. I will check. I will take it on on Alicia if you screw me. I won't. I won't. I promise. Ten! That's how long we have until the cops get here.

Zeke and I aren't rookies at this. We both know that an alarm was triggered by one of the tellers the second we showed. who we were and what we wanted. Heard. I smile at Angela. She starts crying silent tears. Her makeup is running uncontrollably. Must be a cheap brand. From her money trouble, complaints online, I'm guessing she gets her mascara from the dollar

store. Move it along, please, Angela. Her chest hitches as she nods. Put the weapons down now! I glanced over my shoulder to see a uniformed state trooper standing in the doorway. His sidearm drawn and aimed directly at. at me. I can tell from his stance that he's ready to swivel and put a round or two in Zeke if he has to. Calm now. Keep calm. That's for Zeke, not the cop. No point in telling a cop

to be calm. They are the types that are born wound up and spend their lives looking for an outlet for all that pent-up aggression. Some find youth sports, then cross-fit. Too many find law enforcement. This guy sure did. He's the classic type. Hard-ass glare hidden behind aviator glasses, a tan bordering on a burn from a weekend on his boat, or at his cabin or whatever recreational crap he indulges in with his bleach-blonde wifie and two-and-a-half kids. He probably sports a wife-beater under that tan dress shirt of his. Cucumber, Maddie! That's Zeke's way of telling me he's calm.

But I know my little brother. He probably would have fit right in with the law enforcement culture if we'd grown up lower middle class instead of dirt-poor trailer trash. Lord knows, Zeke is wound tight enough for it. But youth sports and CrossFit futures weren't laid out for us. Nah, it was dodging thrown beer bottles, sometimes empty, sometimes full. It was shoplifting for our dinners. It was skipping school and selling loose joints.

Now it's robbing banks. Brothers got to make a living. I won't ask again. Put the weapons down. Get on your knees, hands behind your heads. Zeke chuckles. I shoot him a glare. Officer, I'm going to have to ask you to put your weapon down instead,

or this pretty lady here loses half her head. I smirk and ease my pistol closer to the plexiglass without taking my eyes off the cop. I think Angela here would like to keep her head intact. She also wants to keep her daughter intact. If anything happens to us, sir, well, our compatriot guts that little girl from stem to stern and dumps her corpse on Angela's front lawn. Angela lets out an anguished cry. My smirk widens.

What you got to say about that, officer? The cop keeps those aviators fixed on me. Same with his sidearm. It's a standoff. For now, that's fine, because Angela is still filling the satchel. Then everything goes to shit when the security guard tries to make a move. Zeke checks the shotgun's chamber for the sixth time. Stop messing with it.

Or you're going to set it off. It's loaded. Let it be. Damn it? Gotta be ready. For what? I ain't letting this guy catch us. But I'm not so sure. My foot is to the floor, and the speedometer is about to bottom out at a hellish 120. If I sneeze, I'll send our cars spinning out of control and off the road. Zeke and I will each get a face full of pine and locust branches before the lights go out permanently. I check the rear view and have to force myself not to swear. The cop is gaining on us.

Sure, sure, that car of his is designed to dominate on the blacktop, but so is ours. Custom built from the ground up. I got my automotive chops from all the garages I used to drop boosted cars off at. Some would let me stick around and learn a bit here, a bit there. Mechanics figured I'd be a better thief if I knew exactly what I was stealing and why this model with this engine was worth twice as much as the other model with the other engine. So the cop should not be gaining, not like he is now. Zeke can sense my unease.

We ain't gonna shake them, are we? I don't respond. I need to focus on the road and keep these four wheels on it. Starting a business always sounds exciting until you realize how many little things you suddenly have to figure out. We've experienced that firsthand with no-sleep coffee. Getting the idea was the fun part, but then came building the website,

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BetMGM operates pursuant to an operating agreement with Eye Gaming, Ontario. The security guards' insides become a misty spray that splatters the wall behind him. Zeke instinctively dives to the floor as the cop opens fire. The second I saw the security guard move out of the corner of my eye, I threw myself to the ground, too. We'd managed to avoid turning a bank into a slaughterhouse for years now. But every thief's luck runs out at some point. The cop's pistol roars as he empties the magazine. Screams fill the air as I roll across the floor,

then scramble up to my feet and race around the bank counter. Terrified tellers cry out at the sight of me as they crouch and cower behind their stations. Angela is screaming at me, her hands trying to grasp my shirt. Please don't hurt her. Please don't hurt my baby. You get us out of here, and I'll make sure she's. I already know she's fine. We have no compatriot watching the little girl. That was all a bluff. But no need for Angela to know that, though. The woman's eyes go wide with panic. Shit, she has no idea how to help us. It's plain as day on her face.

Never mind. I see the satchel on the ground and grab it, throwing the strap over my shoulder and across my chest. No, I can help! I can help! Shut up, bitch! And stay out of my way! I pop her once between the eyes with the butt of my pistol, which short circuits any panic attack she's about to start having. The shotgun booms. I hear a man cry out, and there's a crash, a clunk at another crash. Easing around the end of the counter, I see Zeke and the cop tussling by the front doors.

The shotgun wedged between them. I don't know what happened. Either the cop charged Zeke or Zeke charged the cop, most likely the former, because Zeke's not much of a tussler. I double-checked that none of the tellers are going to make a play for me, which they aren't, and scramble out from behind the counter. Lurching up to my feet, I aim my pistol at the two wrestling bodies, watching, waiting for my shot.

Come on, come on, just roll over. They do, and the cop's back presents itself. But before I can pull the trigger, the shotgun roars again. Blood and bone and brains splatter the glass of the bank's front doors. Hold on! I take the next corner way too fast, downshifting and praying for the tires to grab. The engine revs to a dangerous whine, too many r pms being forced through a lower gear. It's a huge strain on the transmission, and if I hadn't built the car with my own two hands,

I wouldn't even think we have a chance in hell. Then we get around the corner and I shift up. Pushing the gas down as far as it will go once again. Zika's turned around in a seat, eyes on the cop. He's still gaining, Maddie! Where's this guy learned to drive? I don't bother answering, my little brother. He's talking more to himself than he is to me. We all self-sue.

than our own way, I suppose. Another curve is coming up, and I prepare for the struggle ahead. This one looks sharp, maybe too sharp. I need to ease off the gas, but the second I do that, the cop and his dodge will be able to get close enough to shove a finger up our keister. There's no room for error in this turn. Tires squeal, the transmission protests, the engine screams. We make it around the curve, so does the cop, and he's closer than ever.

How the hell? That's what I've been saying! This guy ain't real, Maddie! The panic is instant. Before there was fear, fear is controllable. But once panic sets in, all bets are off. The bank customers all scramble and start running. Same with the tellers and other bank employees.

Zeke shoves the cop's headless body off of him and staggers up onto his feet. He catches my eye and grins. Then he's pushed out of the way as a beefy man makes a break for the front doors. Zeke! No! It's too late. My words are lost to the shotgun blast that sends the beefy man flying backwards off his feet. Half of his rib cage turned to pulp. I don't even need to see the look in Zeke's eyes to know that he's given up on any self-control he may have had, which wasn't a lot to begin with. The shotgun barks flames and lead. People fall, bloody and writhing in pain. Or the lucky ones do. The unlucky ones just fall. Their eyes already gone, glassy before their heads hit the floor. Zeeke keeps firing until the shotgun clicks empty.

Damn it. Woo-hoo! You see that, Maddie? I close my eyes at the use of my name. I'd lay into my little brother about it, but he won't listen to anything until his bloodlust eases back. Right now, he's jacked up on murderous endorphins

and a killer dopamine high. I hear a door slam somewhere in the bank, and that brings me back around to reality. Get your shit together and let's go! Zeke frowns, sad that I'm ruining his buzz. I hold up the satchel, and the frown goes away. How much? Enough.

Let's get the hell out of here. Zeke nods and turns to the front doors. A dozen police cruisers, lights flashing and sirens blaring, screeched to a halt out on the street. Maddie! Yeah, I see them. Back way? I shake my head.

They'll have that covered too. Shit, what do we do? I hear a sniffle and a quiet gasp. Slowly, with my pistol aimed low, I turn and walk back around the teller counter. Angela is still crouched on the floor. I snort a sad laugh. Get up.

You're coming with us. Before she can argue her fight, I grab her arm and yank her to her feet. Her brown slacks are wet at the crotch. I don't blame her. Be cool, and you make it out of this alive. So does Alicia. At the sound of her daughter's name, she almost crumples in my grip. I squeeze hard enough to make her cry out, and I see a little color come back in her cheeks.

Then I walk her out to the lobby and over to Zeke. Reload. You'll cover the cops while I walk us to the car. They won't shoot us with her in tow. Zeke quickly starts shoving shotgun shells into the empty chamber, racking the slide after each one. He cocks his head, looking past the cops drying blood and brains that spackle the glass. They'll tear us apart the second we step out there. I shove Angela forward. My pistol pressed up against the back of her head. Crouching slightly, I make sure she covers my whole body. Stay close and make sure they see that shotgun.

They'll let us pass by. Zeke gives me a look like he would back when we were kids, and I would tell him to jump off the trailer's roof or swim across a flooded river just to prove he wasn't a pussy. Big brothers, right? But he doesn't argue, I'll give him that. With a nod, he follows close behind me as I shove open the soiled front doors. Angela squirms in my grip, and I give her a shake, leaning in close to her so I can whisper. Think of Alicia!

Her body goes stiff, and the squirming ceases. I push her forward, and we step out onto the sidewalk. Took his head off. Took his freaking head off, man. I know. Zeke laughs. Do you? Huh?

Do you, Maddie? Because you seem pretty damn calm considering a dead cop is chasing our asses. It's a different cop. It's got to be. Zeke laughs again. There's madness in the laugh. You know it's him. You know it, man.

He's right. I do know it. But I'm not going to admit that I know it. I do that. And Zeke will spiral to a round. rock bottom that I do not want him to go to. We take another curve, and I have to use all of my skills to keep us on the road. I've given up on staying between the lines, staying in my lane. I need the whole road to keep us alive. Blue and red lights flash on either side of us, reflecting off the pines

and locusts. He's gaining, gaining way too fast, even for that dodge of his. I don't know what he has under that hood, but it's got me beat. That's just a sad fact. There's another curve and another. It's getting harder to maintain control. The brakes are getting soft, and the tires are heating up. A little sticky rubber is one thing. But I've been pushing this baby so hard that soon the tires will lose all grip on the blacktop. When that happens, we're going to meet the pines and locusts up close and in person. A straightaway presents itself, and I put my foot all the way down.

The dodge doesn't lose a beat, doesn't slow for a second, doesn't show any signs of falling back or losing ground. It's a relentless beast, a hound scenting a bletting a blething. black bear and refusing to give up until that bear is treed, then shot down. That bastard pig back there won't ever stop. I know that now. I think about slamming on the brakes and turning this into a shootout instead of a getaway. Zeke has his shotgun in two 45s. I have my 44 and a 38. We have a ton of ammo between us. All I have to do is swerve this baby sideways and we jump out and use our car for cover. We could get a few solid shots into the Dodge's windshield before the cop can stop. I have an idea, Zeke's

eyes widen. I don't like the sound of that unless you tell me you have wings hidden in this thing and it can fly. Don't be stupid. Okay, what's the damn idea? We make a stand. That's dumber than the car sprouting wings. What the hell are you thinking, Maddie? There have to be 30 assault rifles pointed at us, with just as many nine millimeters backing those up. Let the woman go and get on the ground now. I laugh and press my pistol harder against Angela's skull. She sobs on controlably. then cries out, They have my... This is good.

That'll confuse them and divide some resources. Right now, calls are being made to find out who Alicia is and where we might have her. This will buy us a few seconds. But as soon as someone gets a hold of Alicia's school, our con will be discovered. Keep moving. We're heading to that car right there. No, I can't go with you. You can't take me.

Please. Maddie, this is going to go sideways. Hush, I got this. Last warning. Let her go and get on the ground. Go ahead and shoot. Do it! Her death will be on your hands, not mine. Zeke eases toward our car parked at the curb. His shotgun swinging left, swinging right, trying to cover all the cops that want nothing more than to open fire and completely ventilate our bodies.

I step in closer to Angela, keeping my body covered by hers as much as possible. Her sobbing is making her stumble and slip as she walks. We are only a few feet from the car, and before I can shout for him not to, Zeke makes a break for the passenger side door. No! Gunfire erupts everywhere. He strayed too far from Angela and me, and the predators have moved in for the kill.

Zeke screams as he falls to the sidewalk, the shotgun clattering off the curb and under our car. I spin Angela this way and that, making sure that I don't catch any of the gunfire. I don't, but Angela does. Someone somewhere must have decided that one more body is worth the price of taking my brother and me down.

I'm not too surprised. This world is about to be. optics, and the cops will spin Angela's death as my fault. They'll get away with it too, as long as they can parade our corpses around to the local news stations, claiming themselves as selfless heroes. Angela screams once more, then slumps in my grip. I open fire and race to the car, ducking low to scoop an arm up under my brother. I push him against the back door, then swing the passenger's door open and try to shove him inside. I think I got hit, Maddie. Nah, you're good, you're good. The bullet just grazed you.

erupts in my left side, and I turn in fire, dropping an ambitious cop who foolishly separated himself from his pack. With all of my strength, I shoves Zeke up into the car, then I climb over him, making him scream as my knees impact his wounds. Bullets pepper the car, puncturing holes in the doors, the windows everywhere. I don't care. I managed to shove the keys in the ignition, crank the engine, and throw the car into gear as my foot slams the gas pedal down.

The car fish tails for several feet, slams into the side of a police cruiser, then In races past, several officers who have to dive out of the way to avoid being flattened into the asphalt. Yes! Hell yes! I glance in the rearview mirror. Cops are still firing at us, but we're moving too far, too fast for their aim to be any good. I'm about to cheer again when I see something strange. Unhit bad, Maddie. I can feel things moving in me that shouldn't move. I hear my brother, but my attention is on the rear view. The cop. The one that Zeke blew the head off of. The bastard is walking out of the bank. Way. Yes way, Maddie. I think I'm bleeding out. That cop is alive. Zeke looks over at me with

bloodshot eyes. His skin is already so pale that I have to wonder if the blood in his eyes is where most of the blood he has left resides. I need a doctor. The pain in my side makes itself known again, and I nod, returning my attention to the road in front of me. You want me both, little brother. You want me both. I yank the wheel to the side just as I downshift and break, hoping the torque from the lower gear will help stabilize the car. All I have to do is get us sideways so I can hop out and start blasting away at the dodge. But for once in my life, I miscalculate my timing. I don't know how.

It's a maneuver I've done dozens of times. I used to practice as a kid after watching one of those fast and furious movies. I never could get the car to do a full 180 like they do, but I could always get it to stop sideways and block the road. But this time? This time, the car doesn't cooperate, giving itself over to physics, sending us tumbling side over side over side down the blacktop. I don't have a seatbelt on.

Zeke doesn't have a seatbelt on. We end up in a bloody mangled pile on top of each other as the car skids on its roof and slowly crunches to a stop. The red and blue lights get closer, and the sirens cut off as I crawl over Zeke's still form and out the shattered passenger side window. I stagger out into the road, then groan as I stand straight. Zeke stares at me from out of the car. His eyes blank, his face slack.

Oh no. Zeke? Bro? Footsteps echoed through the night, and I go for my pistol, which is nowhere to be found. The cop, his uniform coated in blood and bits of brain, walks around the side of my car and gives me a shattered-tooth grin. He still has those aviator sunglasses on,

but one lens is cracked and the other is smeared with gore. His head looks like it was glued back together. by a toddler on meth. Nice driving. You have skills. I cough and blood sprays onto the road. When I wipe my mouth, my shirt sleeve comes away soaked. My side erupts in agony, and I fall to a knee.

Yeah, that happens when you stop. Gotta keep moving if you want to live. He looks at my car and laughs. Not that this hunk of crap is going anywhere anymore. Gonna have to reset. Who are you? What do you want? Me?

Oh. I got lots of names, lots of them. He sighs, and one of his ears falls off, making his sunglasses cock at a sad angle on his face. He laughs again and takes the sunglasses the sunglasses into the pines and locusts. If it makes you feel any better, same goes for me. Gotta keep moving to stay alive. He pats his body down, and blood squishes from random wounds. Well, maybe alive isn't the right word for it.

He doesn't laugh this time. He steps back and points at my car. Get in, punk. We still have some driving to do. Driving? My car ain't going nowhere. Oh, you'd be surprised what happens when you get back in. You'll see.

It's upside down! The cop shrugs. Upside down, right side up, on its side doesn't matter. There's still an outside and there's still an inside. You need to get inside so we can keep going. Keep going where? Nowhere. Everywhere.

Forever and ever, punk. Forever and ever. He doesn't wait for my response. He walks off, and as he does, I see him pull a new pair of aviators out of a pocket and put them on his Frankenstein face. I look down, and Zeke is staring up at me. He blinks, and I scream. I try to stammer and answer, but the words won't obey. So I limp around the car, crouch down, and crawl inside.

With all of my strength, I shove Zeke up into the car. Then I climb over him, making him scream as my knees impact his wounds. Bullets pepper the car, puncturing holes in the doors, the windows everywhere. I don't care. I managed to shove the keys in the ignition, crank the engine, and throw the car into gear as my foot slams the gas pedal down. The car fish tails for several feet, slams into the side of a police cruiser, then races past several officers who have to dive out of the way to avoid being flattened into the asphalt. Yes, hell yes!

I glance in the rearview mirror. Cops are still firing at us, but we're moving too far, too fast for their aim to be any good. I'm about to cheer again when I see something strange, although an itch at the back of my head says that it isn't as strange as I think. I'm hit bad, Maddie. I can feel things moving in me that shouldn't move. I hear my brother, but my attention is on the rear view. The cop, the one Zeke blew the head off of, is walking out of the bank.

Again. And he's putting on a pair of aviators as he walked. to his dodge. I laugh and Zeke looks over at me with bloodshot eyes. You think this is funny? I shake my head in response and focus on the road ahead of me. I've got some driving to do apparently, and from what it sounds like, this road goes on forever and ever. Thanks for tuning in. If you enjoyed the story, be sure to follow or subscribe and share the show with a fellow horror fan. I'll see you in the next one.