18 Oct Stay in Your Car

Part I

Listen, before I start—if anyone finds this, if anyone reads this, you need to 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 NDA’s finally expired. I guess the people behind it figure enough time has passed, that anyone who still remembers has moved on, or been silenced.

But not me. I still see it every time I close my eyes.

And 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. It saved my life that night, and if you’re lucky, maybe it’ll save yours, too.

* * * * * *

It started 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 was around 1 AM, 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 AM—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, there’s just static. I fiddled with the dial, but there was nothing but dead air. 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 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. 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, like they’d 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’ve 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, shielding my eyes as a flashlight beam swung toward me.

“Hey!” a man called out, his voice sharp and urgent. He was older, mid-sixties 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!”

“I, uh… what’s going on?” I called back, my words half-lost in the wind. He jogged over, stopping a few feet from me, his 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 looked past him at the other cars—an old pickup truck, a couple of beat-up sedans, a minivan. All of them dark, their drivers standing nearby, 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 bun—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… just you folks.”

“Thank God,” she whispered, pulling back into the car. I could see her shoulders shaking.

Walter turned back to me, his face set in grim lines. “Look, son,” he said softly. “You need to get back in your car. Stay there, and don’t get out again. Whatever’s going on… it’s not safe out here.”

“What do you mean?” I demanded. “What happened?”

He shook his head. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. But listen—there’s allegedly been some kind of ‘geological event.’ Whatever that means. That’s what the radio’s been saying, over and over. Emergency alert. ‘Remain in your vehicle.’ They’ve been repeating it for the last hour.”

I stared at him, feeling the desert wind whip through my hair. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“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.

I opened 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. And somewhere off in the dark, I swore I heard something else.

A soft, rapid click-click-click.

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 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…”

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 and the wrecked semi, something moved.

Just a shadow. Just for a second.

But it was there. And it was watching us.

Part II

The first thing I did after getting back in the car was hit the lock 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 and scattered cars, the desert stretched out forever. I strained my eyes, peering into the black for any sign of movement.

Nothing.

The others must’ve had the same idea. I saw the vague outline of Walter ducking back into the truck behind mine, his flashlight 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.

And then I heard it again: click-click-click.

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. A 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. 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. Like I’d taken 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. No matter what.

I almost laughed out loud. What choice did I have? There was nowhere to go, nothing to do but wait for morning, hope 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 myself 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. It 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, birdlike, ending in a set of long, curved claws. It rested its clawed hand—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 metal. Click-click.

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 it was saying—if it was communicating, signaling the others, or just… taunting me.

But whatever it meant, the others responded in kind.

Click-click-click.

Dozens of soft, eerie clicks echoed 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 treeline.

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 travelers huddled in the darkness. Silent. Waiting.

A small movement caught my eye—Katie, in the car next to Walter’s, 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 words scribbled in thick, frantic strokes:

“DON’T MOVE.”

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.

Then I heard it—a sharp, metallic clang, followed by a man’s voice.

“Hey! 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, 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, but 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’s scream 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 flashlight 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.

Then it looked right at me.

I couldn’t move. Couldn’t even blink. I just sat there, heart pounding, staring into the darkness. It 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. Then, with a final growl, it turned and loped back toward the pickup. It shoved its head inside the cab, sniffing around the ruined interior, then disappeared into the rocks beyond.

I slumped 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 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.

Escape wasn’t going to be that easy—and I knew it wasn’t over.

It had just begun.

Part III

The night stretched endlessly. 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 of the dark.

Walter had been right. The worst thing I could do was 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 ribcage. I kept expecting the thing—one of them, or 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 wind 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 in your vehicle. Do not leave for any reason. Await further 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. It 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 creak of metal, the sharp slam of a car door. Someone else was getting out.

“No, no, no…” I whispered, leaning forward, straining to see.

It was another man, someone I hadn’t met yet, driving a blue pickup. He was fumbling with the truck bed, yanking something out from under a tarp. 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.

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. Then, the clicking began. Hundreds of clicks, all around us, overlapping and frantic, like an alarm going off.

The creatures had heard him.

The 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 toward the rocks. He kicked once, twice—then his legs disappeared into the shadows. The flashlight flickered one last time before going out completely.

And just like that, the creatures were back among us.

I slunk lower in my seat, every muscle tensing. Outside my car, I could hear the light scuffle of claws against metal, the 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 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 wail that 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 moved 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 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 Walter’s, 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 rhythmic, like a chant or a prayer. I don’t know if it was helping him, but it was starting 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’ve heard her too. The clicking started again—soft at first, then 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 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 let out a breath. I did too.

But we both knew it wasn’t over. Not yet.

The creatures were still out there, circling, waiting for their next move. And 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, 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 sound, not when I knew what that 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 IV

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 kept my movements 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, stoic 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.

Then 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!”

I twisted in my seat to look toward his car. His door was wide open, and he was halfway out, dragging what 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. And that’s when the clicking started again—louder, closer, and much more aggressive.

Walter 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, and 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, the 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—a 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, the awful, animalistic sounds of the creature tearing into its prey.

Alan never stood a chance.

The creature dragged their bodies back toward the rocks, leaving a trail 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. And 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, her 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. It 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.

Walter glanced at me, his eyes wide, silently 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 lot, maybe closer to the open road where they could plan an escape down the highway. And from his posture, I could tell he was inviting me to come with them.

I hesitated, gripping the steering wheel. Walter’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. And 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’d be with them soon. Walter nodded back, and then, with practiced caution, he crept across the gravel, weaving between 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 whine, 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 creatures’ 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, scrambling 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, then slinked away. I exhaled slowly, shaking uncontrollably. Beside me, Katie and Walter 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’ve gotten us killed!”

I 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, though I couldn’t keep the shame from my voice.

Walter gave me a look but didn’t say anything. Our expressions 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, Walter 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. It 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.

Walter reached 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.

But we kept going, even when every muscle in my body screamed for rest. We didn’t have a choice.

The creatures were right behind us.

And if we stopped—if we slowed down for even a second—they’d tear us apart.

There was 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.

Part V

We ran until my lungs burned, the highway stretching endlessly ahead of us, and the sharp clicking of claws echoed behind us. The creatures were closing in—faster than I’d imagined anything that size could move. Their clicks 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.

Katie reached it first, yanking at the grate with trembling hands. It didn’t budge. “It’s 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 grate gave way with a metallic screech, the noise far too loud in the still night.

The creatures heard it.

I risked a glance behind us. 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 under the moonlight.

Walter 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 grate aside and followed right behind her, his broad shoulders barely fitting through the opening. I hesitated, gripping the tire iron in my hand, heart hammering in my chest.

The first creature hit the ground just feet away from me, its claws clicking madly as it skittered forward.

There was no time left.

I dove headfirst into the tunnel, my body scraping against the rusted edges. Walter grabbed 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—and slammed its weight against the tunnel entrance, shaking the entire structure.

“Go!” Walter hissed, shoving me forward. “Crawl, dammit!”

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, their 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 blood 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 them 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 strangled 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, but 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 toward us. I felt a strange mix of relief and terror, knowing the creatures were still behind us, knowing that we had made it by only 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 creatures 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—”

“Sign,” the man repeated, his voice sharp and final. “Now.”

I looked down at the clipboard, the words swimming in my vision. My hands 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 creatures’ 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.

Part VI

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 cleanup.

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. I thought about Walter—his grim smile, the way he had 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, not trusting myself to answer. Because I knew exactly how they would 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. And 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 mouths 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 foreign.

* * * * * *

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 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 I 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, 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 had been hunted, massacred—the radio crackled.

At 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. Await further instructions.”

I froze, gripping the wheel so tight my knuckles went white. The message repeated once, twice—then the static swallowed it whole, leaving only silence.

I drove faster 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. That 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.