The car came to an abrupt stop. It was pitch black outside and the wind was howling. Ben tightened his grip on the steering wheel, his knuckles whitening. In the passenger seat, Mia turned toward him, her voice tight with panic.

“Why did you stop?”

“The engine,” Ben said. “It just… shut off.”

In the back, Chris leaned forward between the front seats. “You gotta be kidding me.”

Lily and Jason shifted uncomfortably, each pressing closer to the middle as if somehow the darkness outside could seep through the car windows and drag them out. Ben tried the ignition again. The engine clicked uselessly. No headlights, no dashboard lights, not even a flicker. Jason tapped on his phone. “No service. Not even one bar.”

Chris cursed under his breath. “We should’ve taken the main highway. This shortcut—”

“It wasn’t supposed to be a shortcut,” Ben snapped. “It’s a mapped road. It’s just… isolated.”

Outside, the wind tore through the barren trees that lined the narrow road. Their skeletal branches scratched against one another, making a sound like dry bones.

For a few minutes, they sat in heavy silence, listening to the howl of the wind and the occasional rattle of the car as gusts rocked it gently on its suspension. Then came a new noise. A faint, rhythmic tapping against the passenger window.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Mia jumped. “What was that?”

Ben grabbed a flashlight from the glove compartment, clicking it on with shaking hands. The beam cut through the dark — but there was nothing there. Just the endless stretch of empty, broken asphalt and the wild sway of trees.

“It’s just the wind,” Lily whispered, though no one sounded convinced.

Ben lowered the flashlight, and everyone stared. Fresh muddy handprints streaked across the window.

“Okay, no,” Chris said, his voice cracking. “Nope. Nope. I’m not sitting here waiting for something to smash in.”

Jason, impulsive and stubborn, yanked the door handle and stepped out before anyone could stop him. “I’m checking it out. Probably some creep messing with us.”

“Jason!” Mia shouted, but the wind tore her voice away.

They watched him step away from the car, the beam of Ben’s flashlight wobbling over his figure as he moved farther down the road. Two steps. Three. Then, just beyond the edge of the light, something moved. Not Jason. A pale, hunched figure slipped between the trees. The flashlight flickered. The light died. In the dark, they heard Jason’s voice — high-pitched, terrified, “Something’s here!”

A wet, tearing sound followed. Then silence.

“No,” Lily sobbed. “We have to help him!”

Ben grabbed her wrist as she lunged for the door. “No. Stay inside.”

Mia huddled close to Ben, whispering prayers under her breath. Chris fumbled in the back seat for something — anything — to defend themselves. Another noise. A dragging, scraping sound from the back of the car. Chris turned around, his breath fogging the glass as he peered into the darkness.

“I see something… it’s him! Jason!”

Ben looked too. A shape moved behind the car, slow and awkward, dragging a foot like it was broken. Mia’s hand clutched Ben’s arm. “That’s not Jason,” she whispered.

Chris didn’t listen. He grabbed the flashlight, flung the door open, and ran toward the figure.

“Chris!” Ben shouted.

The figure straightened suddenly, its head cocking at an unnatural angle. Chris froze. The flashlight dropped. The figure lunged. Chris’s scream was cut short. The flashlight rolled on the asphalt, its beam swinging crazily. Ben slammed the car door shut and locked it. Lily and Mia clutched each other, sobbing.

Inside the car, the air grew colder, damper. Ben’s breath came in ragged gasps. Outside, movement circled the vehicle, scratching and tapping, faint and persistent.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Ben gritted his teeth, trying to keep his mind from unraveling. “We wait until sunrise,” he said, voice shaking. “We don’t move. We don’t open the doors for anything.”

Time twisted and distorted. Minutes stretched into hours. The night pressed heavier against the windows. At some point, Mia began murmuring to herself, rocking slightly. Lily clutched her necklace, whispering apologies, prayers, or maybe both. The tapping stopped. A new sound replaced it: voices. Jason’s voice. Chris’s voice. Calling their names.

“Ben… Mia… Lily… open the door. It’s okay now. It’s safe.”

Ben squeezed his eyes shut. He wasn’t stupid. It wasn’t them. The voices grew more persistent, more urgent, a dissonant chorus just outside the car. Sometimes they laughed. Sometimes they cried. Ben held on until his knuckles ached.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, a faint light bled over the horizon, painting the road and the trees in gray. Ben dared to open his eyes fully. The voices were gone. No figures circled the car. No tapping on the windows.

“Morning,” he whispered. “It’s morning.”

He unlocked the door and pushed it open. Cold air rushed in, sharp and biting. His legs felt stiff as he climbed out, blinking against the rising sun. The road was empty. Silent. No sign of Jason. No sign of Chris. No footprints, no blood. Not even the flashlight. Just the empty woods — and the faint feeling that they were still being watched.

Mia and Lily stumbled out after him. None of them spoke. There was nothing to say. Ben glanced back at the car one last time before they started walking. In the condensation on the rear windshield, a message had been scrawled in dripping letters.

SEE YOU SOON.