The NoSleep Podcast - NoSleep Podcast S16E03

Episode Date: April 18, 2021

It’s Episode 03 of Season 16. Our correspondence drives us into horror.“The Runaway Adventure” written by Charlie Davenport (Story starts around 00:01:45)Produced by: Phil MichalskiCast: Narrator – David Cummings“The Unexplained Broadcast of ‘The Rules of the Road’” written by C.B. Jones (Story starts around 00:17:00)Produced by: Phil MichalskiCast: Narrator – Atticus Jackson, Buck Hensley – Mick Wingert“Destination Arrived” written by Ben Vlam (Story starts around 00:31:10)Produced by: Phil MichalskiCast: Mike – Atticus Jackson, Will – Graham Rowat, GPS – Nikolle Doolin“Thunder Only Happens When It’s Raining” written by T. Michael Argent (Story starts around 00:53:10)Produced by: Jeff ClementCast: Narrator – Nichole Goodnight, Gas Station Attendant – Atticus Jackson, Mr. Rawls – David Cummings“I Was a House Sitter” written by C. P. Riggs (Story starts around 01:13:45)Produced by: Jesse CornettCast: Connor – Kyle Akers, Paul – Jesse Cornett, Sarah – Jessica McEvoy, Pizza Guy – Graham Rowat, Not Sarah – Jessica McEvoy, Simon – David Cummings  This episode is sponsored by:Quip – Quip is the good habits company for oral health. With their leading-edge electric toothbrush combined with dentist-recommend scheduled replacement plans for brush heads, toothpaste, floss, and now their chewing gum – Quip makes oral care easy and affordable. And if you go to getquip.com/nosleep right now, you can get a FREE plastic gum dispenser with any refill plan.  Click here to learn more about The NoSleep Podcast teamClick here for our Twitch channelClick here for our YouTube channelClick here to learn more about C.B. JonesClick here to learn more about Ben VlamExecutive Producer & Host: David CummingsMusical score composed by: Brandon Boone“The Runaway Adventure” illustration courtesy of Emily CannonAudio program ©2021 – Creative Reason Media Inc. – All Rights Reserved – No reproduction or use of this content is permitted without the express written consent of Creative Reason Media Inc. The copyrights for each story are held by the respective authors. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

In the dark hours, in the antique, in the letters long lost and forgotten, there are tales of horror to frighten and disturb. Come, join us as we delve deep into the darkness. Into the sleepless hours, when you dare not close your eyes. Brace yourself for the no sleep. Chapter 3. Welcome, sleepless listeners. I'm your host, David Cummings. A big thanks to everyone who joined our live performance of Bavi Sana

on our Twitch channel last weekend. If you missed it, the video is available on both our Twitch and YouTube channels. Follow us at Twitch.tv slash the No Sleep Podcast, so you'll know when we do other live performances and all the YouTube channels. the other game streams we do. Now, as many of you will know, I've been receiving mysterious packages through our No Sleep Podcast PO box. Well, two so far, as of last week anyway. Usually, we would never accept story submissions in this manner, but something about these, the authenticity, the attached correspondence encouraged me to run them on the show. Then I received a third package

this week, I believe it shall be the last single piece of correspondence, I hope. It frames itself as a final test, and the following events, which I made sure to record, as per the instructions, have left me to believe I've passed. As per the previous two packages, this one came with a note attached. Unlike the others, though, the main contents are an entire book. Before I explain more about that, allow me to read the attached letter. Dearest David, thank you, thank you from the bottom of my heart. You followed the instructions in my last correspondence to the letter, pun intended. I know you like puns, don't you?

That's right, I keep a close eye on you, obviously. Otherwise, how would I know that you're just the man I'm looking for? Unfortunately, while I am almost sure that you are, there is one final experiment I need to test. As you will no doubt have seen, enclosed with this letter is a book. To any normal person, it will read like an ordinary novel, albeit a choose-your-own-adventure game book. You can play it again and again. You can have fun with it. But you, David, if you are the man I'm looking for, there should only be one path through the book.

And if you are able to follow the path, as I believe you are capable, then the final piece will fall into your lap. game can begin. I write to you today as one Charlie Davenport. It's a name you might recognize, and thus a name you know does not belong to me, much like the previous names. This will be the last time I contact you using a nom de plume in this manner. In fact, if all goes to plan, you shan't hear from me for a while now. Please read the book I've enclosed.

The rest will be obvious. Yours faithfully, Charlie Davenport. Now, naturally, I glanced over the book. It does look like a standard, choose-your-own-adventure book. It has the author, Charlie Davenport, on the cover. It has the title and an image of a house. But when I flicked through it, all but the first page was nonsense. Unreadable.

A language I couldn't make head nor tail of. I had no idea how the... would work. But I followed the instructions. I began reading from page one and things became clearer. What follows is the audio of me playing the book entitled The Runaway Adventure. Warning! Do not read this book straight through from start to finish. These pages contain many different paths you can take as you try to reach safety. From time to time as you read along, you will be required to make a decision. Your decision may lead to victory or to tragedy.

The paths you take will be the result of the decisions you make. After you make your decision, follow the directions to find out what happens to you next. Hmm. Here we go. Page 1. It's been a hundred miles or more since you packed up everything you own and simply left in the middle of the night. You drive for hours, long past the point where your eyelids, threatened to pull themselves down and snap shut tight over your aching eyes. Still, you push on.

Every hour spent on the road means more miles between you and everything back at the house. From the dinners you sat through with nothing but angry silence passing between you, the creek of your bedroom door in the early morning hours. You drive until there is just a thin sheen of fuel left in the tank, and your spine screams in protest, demanding that you get out of the car and start, stretch. You debate for some time, but when the gas station, with its promise of 24-hour operation comes into view, practicality takes over. Besides, you're two states away from where you started, and that has to be far enough for a start. As you stand out in the early October chill operating

the pump and filling up as far as your meager savings will allow, your eyes drift over to a stand of skeletal trees opposite the station. And there it is. The house beyond the tree. Its shingles are gray from exposure, smeared green from the mold that neglect has allowed to encroach. The front porch bows in the middle from the weight of so many heavy winter snowfalls, looking like a welcoming grin.

Suddenly a light from inside. The one by the front hallway comes on. You know that if you stand there a moment more, you will see your hymn step out onto those dilapidated steps and light his first marl of the evening. He will see you, and then you'll be home. Do you dare go inside? If so, turn to page five.

If not, go on to the next page. Hmm, if I've learned anything from stories on the podcast, it's that you don't head straight into the creepy, horrifying house. So, let's go on to the next page, I think. Page two. The pump makes a whirring ding, indicating that your tank is full, and you snap out of your wool-gathering days. You roar away from the station, your gas cap occasionally clanging against the car as you do. Five miles or so down the road, you finally managed to convince yourself that it had simply been a place that looked a little bit like your home.

You are road-weary and bone-tired, and folks are prone to their minds playing tricks on them when they're in such a state. If you try to sleep on the roadside, even knowing what might be waiting out there in the dark for you, turn to page nine. If you press on and keep driving, likely as you are to wrap your car around a tree, turn to page 13. Sleeping on the roadside seems risky, but so does wrapping my car around a tree. I feel like the book's kind of giving me a hint by mentioning that. I'm going to go for page nine. Here we are nine. You pull your car off to the side of the road and feel an aching exhaustion start to flood over you.

To drive any further is to risk ending up in a ditch. You recline your seat back as far as you can to try to get comfortable. Before you know it, you feel that heavy tug of sleep. It's around six when the sunlight pokes through the windshield, and your eyes open to see the condensation rapidly vanishing as the heat rises. You can see the faint lines of air. an arrow drawn by a fingertip directing you to look out the passenger side window. Your eyes track along the dashboard until you see it rising in the early light.

The house is off to your right again. If you run from the strange house, just like you always run from everything, turn to page 15. If you hold your ground like a big girl, turn to page five. Well, I'm not sure about the accusation that I run from everything, but Again, creepy house, obvious death. Begrudgingly, page 15 it is. Page 15. You tear off, scraping the guardrail in your panic,

and stop only when your tank is dry. You fill up again and put your foot to the floor until you hit Toledo. It was a journey of a thousand miles or so, and you've seen your battered and blighted homestead a dozen more times since then, just off the right-hand turn lane, next to a diner in Gary, Indiana. In the middle of an open field, under gray skies with mountains worn by countless seasons standing behind it, out somewhere in Wyoming.

You make an illegal left and scream away as fast as you can. When you're taking the exit off Route 84 and see it wedged beneath an overpass in a place called Ogden. Each time as it would fall into view, you would see that light come on, welcoming you back to that place. The only place you'd ever been able to call home. You drive through Utah and most of Idaho without stopping, running until either you or your car is on empty, and then you try to sleep, always in the car on some roadside or a parking lot, like some kind of common tramp. As you cross into Oregon, a place not so unlike where you started, you stop seeing it. You look out the windshield at the curve of the road in front of you, your eyes desperately searching just in case.

You check in your rear view, trying to see past the piles of clothes and books that fill your back seat. Remember, ten and two, just like I taught you. Mile after mile fall below your wheels, and the house is nowhere to be seen. If you keep running, and why would you stop, Lisa? Running is all you know how to do. Turn to page eight. If you accept that you've just been acting like a lunatic, running from shadows and making up stories in your eyes, head and get yourself a bite to eat at that diner over there, go on to page 16. If you finally

had enough of this and are ready to come home, turn to page five. Hmm, so I'm Lisa, I suppose. Knowing that I'm not playing as myself somehow makes me more wary. Like this woman, this Lisa, I hold her life in my hands. Hmm, dramatic. But there's something about this book I'm holding and the nature of how I received it. There's a kind of energy. Our mysterious benefactor is clearly sending these things for a reason. This feels more like a test than a game. What would be best for Lisa here?

Maybe I can guide how things go. If I turn to page 16, maybe the stories will end up being made up. And she should probably eat. I imagine her health is flagging. Okay, I'm going to go for page 16. I don't want Lisa to go in that house. Somehow I know she just shouldn't. So, page 16, it is.

Page 16. You felt the tension ease out of your body. Two competing lines of reasoning ring happily in your head. The first and strongest suggests that perhaps you've finally gotten enough distance from it and that it had lost the scent of you somewhere in the byways and back roads. The other, quieter for the moment, but gaining in volume as the night ebbs away is that you simply freaked out,

because it's just an it, isn't it? It's only ever been a house, Lisa. It's never left the rocky soil of New England because that's where it belongs. That's where you belong. Without the adrenaline of the last few days to drive you on, you feel a weariness and a sharp pang of hunger. You pull to a stoplight.

You look for any place that you can pull over and sleep for a few hours before pushing on. You're not sure where you're going to stop, but when you do, when you decide to, you make that place home. On the left is a diner with a simple help-wanted sign hanging under the neon Miller light sign and a sun-fated photo of the best-looking plate of eggs and toast you've ever seen in your your miserable, privileged little life. Sunny's eyed up, just the way you like it. You consider stopping for a cup of lukewarm coffee, and maybe asking about the job.

Maybe. An old man on the crosswalk holds up his hand in thanks as he passes in front of your car. You nod respectfully, indicating that you were raised with at least the slightest hint of manners and are in no particular hurry. As you wait for him to pass, you look slowly over in the direction,

direction he came from. Just as the stoplight shifts from red to green, you see it. The house is off to your right again. It's time to stop running and face what you deserve. Turn to page five. I think we'll stop there. You don't need to hear what happens. Oh, I wish I'd never read this. I need to know more about our benefactor. Something. isn't right. I think we'd better move on to the show. So, that's where my recording ended. No clarity, no conclusion from our mysterious benefactor. Simply that rather doomed ending. And as I said, I thought it was time to move on with the show. But then I decided to give the book one final flick through to see if any of the content had changed. There was no longer any

text in the book. None at all. Not even page one. However, as I flick through, I realized a groove had been cut into the book, and from it fell a key straight into my lap. I have no idea what this key unlocks. It's been sitting on my desk for a few days now. Every now and then, I glance at it, feeling like I should know what it's for. Like in the back of my head, I do. All of this is messing with my brain. I need to think on it. Something tells me I won't be allowed to just forget it. So, anyway, we carry on. And in our first tale, we join a man traveling across the country in the dead of night. He'd heard mysterious rumors of a certain radio show. And as a fan of the unexplained and the strange, he'd made sure to have a tape recorder with him. And in this tale, shared with us by author

C.B. Jones, our traveler not only manages to get a clear recording of this urban legend, but finds that hearing it has affected his life in ways he couldn't predict. Performing this tale are Atticus Jackson and Mick Wingert. So buckle up, get that tape ready, tune in and wait for it, and hope that you catch the unexplained broadcast of The Rules of the Road. The following is a recording of a short radio program that has been picked up by various listeners across the continental United States. Many have been perplexed by its sudden appearance and how it seems to preempt whatever song or radio program they are listening to at the time. Others have heard it pop up as soon as they drive out of range of certain radio tower broadcasts, appearing suddenly when their

program starts to cut out. Common threads between occurrences are that listeners are usually alone. Listeners are driving in their vehicles, and that it more frequently occurs on the AM band. Out of everyone that was interviewed, all had followed the instructions that were broadcast on the short program. There was no way of knowing of those that didn't, although news stories across the country reported at least three episodes of those that could have met the criteria. As for me, I was coming out of North Platte, Nebraska when I heard it. I was driving across barren plains and trying to make Denver before midnight. I was meeting my friends in Aurora and wanted to get a good night's rest before we set off on the slopes the next day. At first I thought it was some sort of joke, an audio sketch show recorded by some locals and inserted into the broadcast accidentally or as a goof.

I was listening to a rerun of car talk on NPR. I'd been on the road for ten hours straight at the point, and the car talk. Tall guy's thick accents and wheezing laughs were keeping me awake. The signal was clear when suddenly there was a wash of static and laughter, a different kind of laughter than the Bostonian cackles of the Magliosi brothers. It was higher and more feminine, but androgynous at the same time. It almost sounded like it came from within the car itself. Then the static washed away and some light, tinkly music,

came on and a voice started talking. It was the voice of a cheery old man with a twangy accent. What follows is a recording of the broadcast I heard on that spooky and unsettling night. Howdy, folks? I'm Buck Hensley, and these are the rules of the road. Tonight, we come to you with an answer to an age-old question that has perplexed many of y'all out there. Why is it when you're driving on some highway or busy interstate, you sometimes, look out at the shoulder and you see a single solitary shoe. How did it get there?

Where is its owner? Why is there only one shoe? We'll try to answer that, but once you learn this rule, you may never be able to look at a single shoe on the side of the road again. In fact, it would be downright deadly not to. So here is tonight's rule.

If at any point during your journey, you see a single shoe on the side of the road all by it's lonesome, then you must pull over immediately. What's that, you say? You're in a far lane, and you spot the shoe, and there's a lot of traffic, and you can't cross over? Well, tough pity. You must find a way to that shoe or else, even if you have to turn around. Once you are pulled over, make sure it's safe for you to exit your vehicle. Now, how tragic and hilarious would it be for you to start out with the good intention of following this vital and important rule only to be splattered on the interstate by the front tires and bumper of some inattentive driver.

How your teeth would scatter on the concrete and glint under the moonlight! So, you've arrived at the shoe and the scene is safe and secure? This part is relatively easy. All you need to do is get out and remove one of your socks and place it in the shoe. Get back in your car and leave. If you don't have a sock with you, you better find one. Now, I made that sound extremely easy,

and most times it really is that simple. But sometimes the shoe's owner is nearby, and he might give you a good old fright. Now, I can't say I rightly know this fellow's name, but he only has one leg, and I don't mean he's some sort of amputee or anything like that. I mean he's a man of sturdy build, and that he has a normal torso and arms and hips.

but his pelvis tapers off into just one leg at the dead center of his body. A thigh as thick as a propane tank. He generally gets around by hopping on one leg, and he has a 10 or 15 foot standing broad jump. Sometimes when the leg is tired, he pulls himself along with his arms, dragging his leg behind him. He looks downright dirty and mean, clothes all ragged and worn. You can usually see him at the tree line or in the brush or down in the ditch waiting for you.

He might approach you. Depends on what mood he's in. Just give him a nod, tuck your sock in his shoe, and leave. Now, I hope my foxy demeanor doesn't undermine the gravity of this rule. What happens if you ignore this rule? Well, something bad will happen, that's what. This is not a joke and ignore you. this at your own peril, but if you don't follow this rule, the next bridge you drive over

will collapse, either due to a construction failure or some other arbitrary reason, sending you and your vehicle into the water below, this will always result in your untimely death. No matter how good a swimmer you are. I hope y'all are having a good one out there. Stay alert, stay lively, stay lonely. Once again, I'm Buck Hensley, and these are the rules of the road. From there, a loud burst of static occurred, followed by an extremely high-pitched wine, so loud that it was painful. I had to shut off the stereo.

I drove in silence for some time, trying to laugh nervously at the message I had just heard. It had to be a sketch, right? some sort of surreal dark comedy or something. Yet I found myself slowing down to 60 miles per hour, driving in the right-hand lane and scanning the shoulder for missing shoes. My heart was pounding, and my palms were sweaty on the steering wheel. What if I missed one? Were there any bridges between here and Aurora?

Any major rivers? I told myself to quit being ridiculous. But it was no use. I drove 60 miles per hour the whole way to Aurora and added an hour to my total drive time. My eyes were wide and watering, and I could feel the blood vessels form onto the whites, begging for me to shut my lids. It wasn't until I pulled off of the exit of I-225 and was coming down the exit ramp that I started to calm down. The fatigue and sleepiness hit me like a freight.

train and as I made the turn onto sixth out of the corner of my eye I saw it a single shoe sitting on the side of the road soul facing up and laces splayed out I slammed on my brakes you're insane I told myself it was cold out there I didn't even bother to put on my coat the traffic was dead a bad part of town A black garbage bag and some trash clung to an overgrown patch of prairie grass and weeds. The car came in the other direction. There was a convenience store off in the distance. I approached the shoe and flipped it over.

A basic black canvas low top. A converse rip off. I looked around to see if anyone was watching. There was a guy in a heavy brown coat and a low-slung baseball cap sitting against the wall of the convenience store. I couldn't tell how many legs he had. Another car came down the ramp towards me, headlights shining. I was probably going to look crazy, but I pulled off my right shoe, peeled my sock off, and tucked it into the shoe.

From the garbage bag I heard a rustle in rattling aluminum cans. A hand shot out from underneath, buried its fingers into the dirt, and pulled a body forward from underneath the garbage bag. A face suddenly appearing and looking at me. Yellowed eyes and a mouth full of awful teeth. I screamed and darted back to my car and never looked back. There were three bridge incidents that year throughout the U.S. 17 deaths. One was an overpass at rush hour.

A structural integrity issue. Another incident involved a riverboat barge that crashed into the pylon. supporting a hundred-foot interstate bridge, and several cars in a semi-plunged into the river below. You had to wonder. I carry a pair of socks with me when I'm out on the road and constantly look for shoes. I always follow the rules to a tee

and take off the sock that I'm wearing, just in case. I haven't seen him again at any of the shoes I've stopped at. Everyone thinks I'm crazy. But nothing bad has happened to me yet. Now, you see, it's worth taking a short break from the horror to reaffirm the importance of good hygiene. Making sure you have clean socks on is important. I'm not quite sure that's the moral of that story.

Good hygiene is the moral of every story. That's why we're such big fans of quip, because oral hygiene is the highest of all hygiene. Well, I'll have you know that I brush and floss regularly. And what about chewing gum? Chewing gum? Yes, chewing gum. Look, a few short years ago, Quip reinvented the toothbrush for the modern age. They've done it again, this time, for chewing gum.

Gum is the unsung hero when it comes to better oral health. The American Dental Association recommends chewing sugar-free gum for 20 minutes after meals. Oh, right. I've heard about gum's beneficial effects, but unwrapping gum with messy hands isn't exactly appealing to me. Good thing, Quip gum comes with a slim travel-ready dispenser. Available in five colors, metal or plastic. It can pack and protect up to 10 gum pieces at a time

and fits in just about any purse or pocket for on the go. And in a world where we all need to be extra safe and hygienic, the quick release button means you can still share with friends. No wrappers, hands, hassles, or socks. I get what you mean. It's not a substitute for brushing and flossing, but this is great support for your oral health. Pair it with a quip electric toothbrush for adults and kids.

refillable floss and more great products from Quip. That's right. In addition to gum packs, Quip also delivers fresh brushheads, floss, and toothpaste refills every three months for $5. Shipping is free so you can save money and skip the misery of in-store shopping. I'm glad the oral care experts at Quip have made gum that stands out from the pack. Some gum comes in fancy packaging, but it only covers up bad breath. Others are loaded with sugar that can wreak havoc on your teeth. Quip gum can prevent cavities.

Oh, and it tastes great too. And if you go to get quip.com slash no sleep right now, you can get a free plastic dispenser with any refill plan. That's a free dispenser at g-et-ku-u-i-p.com slash no sleep. Quip, the good habits company. Okay, I'm convinced. It's quip gum and clean socks for me. Excellent. You'll be all set when foul things are afoot. Ugh. What's the audio equivalent to?

of a face palm. While you figure that out, we'll hot foot it back to the horror. Parties. Who doesn't love them? Well, some people don't, honestly. Even if they're headed to one with one of their closest friends. But maybe you don't know many people there, or you've got social anxiety, or there's something preying on your mind that's stopping you from having a good time. And in this tale, shared with us by author Ben Vlam, there's certainly something preventive preventing Will from enjoying himself, despite the protestations of his best friend, Mike. Performing this tale are Graham Rowett, Atticus Jackson, and Nicole Doolin. So keep driving onwards. Don't stop for anything. Follow the GPS. It knows what it's doing.

It will tell you when destination arrived. You've got to let her go, Will. I can't believe you're still worried about this. We just left everything in a really weird place. In 2.6 miles. Exit right onto Highway 13. Okay, but like, what is there to do about it? It happened. It's over.

Everyone moves on. Well, for starters, the first thing I can do is turn around and go fix things. I wouldn't right now. I mean, personally, I wouldn't ever. But for sure, not right now. What if I regret it, though? And I go through her life regretting it and never live it down. Okay.

So first, that's incredibly extreme. Secondly, you can talk to me and the rest of the guys about it. Live keeps going. One person isn't the end-all-be-all. Plus, we have this party tonight. You're going to finally meet some new women. And I am finally going to talk to Sarah and convince her that I am the man of her dreams. Uh, have you thought about what she might want?

Who, Sarah? Not particularly. Probably not you, though. First of all, Ouch. Second of all, I was talking about her. She might not want you to come back. What if she does, though?

I still have time to fix this. I promise. It's better to just wait and see what happens. Yeah. Fine. Is this my turn up here? In 200 feet, turn. Right.

She beat me to the punch. Onwards, my friend. We have a party to get to. Miles. Keep right. To merge onto Service Road, 332. This party's really out in the sticks, isn't it? The best tend to be.

No people to complain and call the fuzz? Let's hope so. Sam and Tom already get there? They should be. They left pretty early to go grab. Steph. Pretty woods out here, man. You really can be one with nature.

Yeah, for sure. What kind of house does this guy live in that he can throw a party of this size? I haven't seen anything other than trailers for 30 minutes. From the pictures I saw, this house is absolutely massive. I mean, you can get lost in this thing massive. Like an old vampire lives there when he needs a break from Europe massive. It'll be impossible to miss. Awesome.

I was kind of scared you were taking me to some hippie togetherness bullshit. You've been to Thanksgiving with my parents. That's about as close as you're going to get. Man, being lost out here at night would suck. Couldn't be that bad. You don't think you can make it out? The fear gets you. Man's been scared of the woods for thousands of years.

Yeah? It's that deep in our history? Sure. I mean, just think about literature. Little Redding Hood, Hansel and Gretel, Logan Paul. What's the message in all of those? stay away from the forest. And Americans.

It's ingrained in us, the fear of the wood. It's an unnecessary risk in our daily lives. And to the American thing, well, it certainly doesn't hurt. How did you score invites to this thing anyway? I didn't think you knew Greg, right? Greg. Yeah, Greg and I took philosophy this past semester. Helped him study for the final, and he rewarded me with a sweet, sweet Facebook invite.

Does he know you know fuck all about philosophy? Not for another week he doesn't. Lucky you. It's also kind of like one of those things where whoever shows up shows up. Place is too big to know everyone who's there. And the people are going to be so slosh that they don't really care. How many people are coming to this thing? A few hundred were invited.

Plus, the usual word of mouth crowd that finds their way there. I know it's a lot for you, but bear with me. I swear I won't ditch you once we get it. there. What about your plans with Sarah? I swear I probably won't ditch you once we get there. Anyway, we have some grass. That'll chill you up for sure. Yeah, for sure. Where is the pot, by the way? We throw it in the trunk. I'm not about to get searched by Ranger Rick in Shittsville. You tell me, man, you packed it. No. I thought you had it. Good one, well. But for real, where did you pack it? Mike, I didn't pack anything.

Wait, are you serious? Yeah, man. I didn't put it in the car. I thought you were going to. Shit. Is it still home? So much for Plan B. Should we turn around?

No way, dude. We're almost here. Plus, it's a party. I'm sure there'll be plenty of grass. I gotta talk to Sarah tonight anyways. I've been waiting for a year and a half for the right time. You've been watching her for a year and a half? Don't say it like that.

I don't stalk her. I flirted with her from a phone. for a year and a half. All right, man. But you better shoot your shot. I'm not going to sit in a house full of strangers just so you can fuck up with another girl. Yeah, you're one to talk about messing up with a woman.

Wow, Mike. How long did it take for you to use that against me? An hour? You're lucky it really upset you. Or else it would have been 30 minutes. I just hope she's okay. She will be. It was really unfair to ask you to be there for her.

Not after all you did initially. Sorry I brought it up, man. That was really stupid. In 300 feet. Turn. Hey, what did the GPS just say? And half a mile keep bright. Oh, good.

I heard something totally different. Yeah? What did you think it said? Just something stupid. I guess I'm just worrying. Well, quit worrying and focus on how much fun we're going to have tonight. School's done. We both start grad school in a few weeks.

Life is great right now. Listen, man, I know you are still stressing about her. Just want you to know that I think you made the right decision. This isn't coming from Mike, your best friend of four years. This is coming from Mike, a man who really wants to get to the party and for you to have a good time. Oh, thanks. Glad I have the approval of a horny 22-year-old. Horny 22-year-olds have done worse.

I just wish I could apologize. Even if it wouldn't have done anything, it would have been nice to just say. I'm sure you'll get the chance to. It's a small town. You guys will laugh about it in a few years. Is it cool if I play some music? Sure thing, boss. Man, is that all we got out here?

Seems to be. Booneys, I tell you. What are they good for? Parties. I'm going to keep flipping around. I need something other than Mozart to get me in my game. Well, we have classic and static. Not exactly the party starter I was hoping for.

Check for signal again. Maybe we can use your Spotify. No can do. We're out of luck in the internet department. Audiophobia. The fear of being without music. Yeah, that's just not it. Good thing you stuck to business and not psychology.

I'm just glad we loaded the directions into the GPS before entering the dead zone. What does the GPS say our ETA is? I need to get out of this car for a few hours. It says... That's weird. It's not showing the arrival time. How old is this thing? No clue.

Let's hope we get there before the thing stops working altogether. Hylophobia. The fear of being trapped in the woods. Alone, without a working GPS, and a horrible hobocultus approaching, forcing you to do meth. No, please, not the drugs. I'll melt you if you make me do the drugs.

You almost had a good example Keep right Oh hey You're gonna want to ignore her He said on the invite that this road is confusing And his place is on the left He should be down that road She said right

Nah man, it's left He said so Alright, but if we get lost I'm gonna make sure the Hicks sacrifice you first Good luck I've seen deliverance I know how they think Long driveway

I guess Everything is big out of here though. Big house, big pool, big fun. Big chance you took us down the wrong road. You're gonna eat those words. Yeah, I'm sure. Well, if we're right here, you can shut her off. Sure thing, brother. Not the radio, too. It's the only thing in this car that might be worth something. Might as well just turn it off. We're almost there anyway. So where's the house? I don't know, to be honest. At least we saw his mailbox. You must just have a huge, private road.

It's a possibility. His dad is one of those one percenter pricks. And the parents aren't home? No. Invite says it's the second summer home. Real ego on this guy. No shit.

I can barely pay rent on my first summer home. So, our apartment? Yes, our apartment. I'm going to pull over for a second. See if you can call the guys. I've got to take a leak. You should turn around or something. You're the boss.

Recalculating. I thought you turned it off. I did. Re-calculating. Let's just let it die. We can use this guy's Wi-Fi and write down directions to get home. I'll throw this piece of garbage out later. I'll be back in a second.

Be careful. Don't let the alligator grab you. Totally wrong state, Mike. Hey, Will? I think I see a car coming, and I'm going to stop them and ask them for directions. Don't let them see me pee. Hey, would you gentlemen be able to help my buddy and I out? You get anything from them?

They just stared at me and kept driving. What'd they look like? Two older guys. That was really weird. Yeah. No kidding, it was weird. Did you see the state of that car? It had to be at least 40 years old.

Probably just some old drinking buddies. Economy is rough, dude. Driving a shitty car is still driving a car. No way they are drinking buddies. The last bar I saw was at least an hour away. They have to be closing soon anyway. Speaking of, how we're looking in terms of time. Are we going to be late?

Nah, we should be fine. It's only... 1130. What? Are you sure? Maybe the clock's wrong. No, it was right earlier. That's when we ran into her, Mike.

Do you think she screwed up my car after what happened? There's no way, man. She's like 80 pounds soaking wet. She wouldn't do anything like that. If she did, it would be to the tires or the bumper or something. What time does your phone say? I'll reset the clock. My phone still says 11.30.

Stop messing around, man. It's got to be like one in the morning. No, man. For real. It says 11.30. Weird. Maybe it's just a lack of connection. I can see a clearing up ahead.

That's got to be his house. Mike, what the hell is this? Keep right. It's the same split, Mike, the same exact one. It can't be. He probably has a neighbor or something that shares the private driveway. His mailbox is right there. So maybe he's further down the road.

Dude, it's the same mailbox. Are you sure? Mike, who has two mailboxes? Okay, noted, Dick. Anyway, there has to be an explanation for this. It's super dark. We could have gone in a circle and not noticed. We've been going straight the entire time.

Did we turn around when you peed? Nope. Right. Should we turn around? I mean, this is his mailbox. We should just go right. Look, he told us it's to the left. We should just keep heading that way. GPS said right.

Oh, the same one you got at the yard sale? Who knows if it's even up to date on the roads? We should trust the guy who spends half his summer here. Just go left, and when you're wrong, we can turn around. Yeah, that sounds good. Still no signal on my phone. It's fine. I think we're there.

The road looks like it ends up ahead. Hmm, good. These woods were starting to seriously give me a case of the Willys. High-low phobia. I see you've been bitten by the bug as well. So I guess the house is right up here? I guess. It just looks so empty.

Maybe everyone's going to show up later. Let's just head inside. Will, where did the lights go? Mike? I mean, we could see the house and now it's gone. Is this some sort of trick? Let me turn on the car again. What the fuck?

This can't be right, Will. The house was right there. Mike, we are back at the clearing. Why are we back at the clearing? Go right. How did we go in a circle again? We didn't. We haven't turned once.

We got out of the car at the house. Whatever. Let's just turn left this time. Maybe this is some weird loop that they have on the property, or we, uh, we thought it was the house. There's a car parked up ahead. Do you want to check it out? Maybe they know where to go or how to get out of here. Yeah, sure.

I'll go scope out the dark car in the woods. Hold up, Mike. Listen, though, Will. When the evil-clod boogeyman jumps out, we got to do open casket. Mike. I think I'll wear a suit that says, Will made me do this over and over again. Is that too much, or does it get the point across? Look at the car.

What about it? No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, this isn't right. We saw them going the other direction. No way. Has to be different people. Well, it's the same car. How is that even possible? They were driving the opposite direction.

Relax, dude. They could have turned around. They were going in the opposite direction, Will. The other fucking way. We would have seen them in our rear view. I don't know, man. Let's just go home. I'm over the party anyway.

Recalculating. Recalculating. I said go right, Will. How do I turn this thing off, Will? You can't. We need it to get home. Is this like a mode or something? Like the kind of GPS that curses at you when you make a wrong turn? Nope.

Recalculating. Turn right in two miles. Finally. We're getting out of here. Do you have reception yet? I want to give a call to. to the other guys and tell them we aren't coming. And maybe call the cops or something.

Nothing. We should stop at the first gas station. Let them know so they don't worry. How are you doing on gas, by the way? Half a tank, we're fine. Your car has amazing miles per gallon. No, it doesn't. This thing's a gas guzzler.

So how come it's been at that since you saw her? Wait. What the fuck? Well, this is really weird. I want to be out of these woods. Hylophobia. Can you just shut up about that shit? Oh, thank God.

Another car behind us. Let's stop and ask for directions. No can do. They're riding my ass. What are you running from, Will? Will, what is wrong with this thing? What's wrong with the car behind us? Why aren't they just passing us?

In three, three, three, three, three. Three... Mike, this car's gonna hit us, I think. Keep right. Mike? Don't say it. Just keep driving. It was the same fork in the road.

Stop. Just keep going. In 300 feet. Stop. Where are we, Mike? I don't know. Dude, I told you we should have went right from the start. I'm not trying to mess with you.

The invite says go left. Well, he was wrong, because I can see the house. Shit, dude. Thank God. Let's get to this house. You got a flashlight? It's pretty damn dark. Yeah, hold on, Matt.

Where'd the house go? I... I don't know. Maybe it's further up than we thought. It was right here, Mike. Let's just keep driving, then. What happened the last time we did this? So what's the alternative?

Just standing here? Fine, fine. We were just at the house. No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no. See, the house is right here. Let's just get inside. I'll even leave the lights on, okay, until we can maybe get someone to come back out here with us and make sure we don't end up back there. Yeah, sure.

That's a good plan. My door's locked. Can you unlock it? I did, Mike. Maybe it's jammed. No, it's not. You got out of the car like 30 seconds ago. I can't get out, man.

Try yours. Mine's jammed too. I'm going to try the back. I just got out. The back two were jammed as well. Can't get them open. What do we do? We could try and bust through a window.

Oh, Mike. I'm not busting through a window. What else are we supposed to do, Will? Anything else. Call it a night, sleep until morning. Turn around. I'm not turning off the car again. I'm done being toyed around like this.

Fine. Kick out the back window. You're paying. Why did you turn off the car, man? We need the light. I didn't touch it. It did that on its own. Well, turn it back on again.

I don't know, man. We'll turn it back on. Mike. I already know. I'm going to die out here, Mike. No. We are lost and we will be fine. I knew I shouldn't have done anything.

I should have just stayed. with her. Will, this isn't about her. We're just lost in panicking. I messed up so bad. Will, I need you to drop it. For real. I'm going to die out here, Mike. I'm sorry I forced you to come with. You need to pull yourself together, Will. It was an accident, Mike. I lost control. I need to go back to her. We need to go home, Will. We need to get the fuck out of here and go home. I promise we will deal with her later.

What are you running from? How do I shut this fucking thing up? Turn the radio off, Mike. It won't, Will. What do you mean it won't? Hit the fucking button. It's not turning off. Where are we, Mike?

I don't know, man. Your GPS just says error. Why are we stopping? She's standing right there. No way, dude. There's no way she would still be here. That's an answer. Or something.

It's too big to be an animal, Mike. It's gotta be like a bear or something. Let's just keep driving and ignore it. I should have stopped. Will. Will. Keep driving. It's just an animal.

We'll go past it and go home. What the hell is that thing? Will fucking drive! She was fine. She got up. No, she was fine. She was a bike. Will.

How far from home was? Was she? Dude, just drive. Don't listen. And drive. Destination was 20 miles away. Will? I can't turn it off.

Look at her will. Eggs hanging by a shr, shred of skin. Just drive. Parents don't know yet, will. Will. They are getting worried, though. Shouldn't she be home by now? She is lost, Will.

And the coyotes will reach their destination in three minutes. It's all my fault. Drive, God damn it! Finish the job, Will. Finish what used to... Artid. You coward. Destination.

Arrived. Back in their envelopes, it's time to take our leave. The musical score was composed by Brandon Boone. Our production team is Phil Mikulski, Jeff Clement, and Jesse Cornett. Our creative content management, is Olivia White. Our editor-in-chief is Jessica McAvoy. I'm your host and executive producer, David Cummings.

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