WRONG TURN

Zack gripped the steering wheel, knuckles white, his breath quickening. The night was oppressive, pressing down on the highway like a heavy blanket. Only the beams of his headlights sliced through the darkness. His eyes darted between the rearview mirror and the speedometer as he sped along the isolated stretch of road.

"Calm down, it’s just another jerk on the road," he muttered, but his voice trembled.

It had started innocently enough, as these things often do. He’d been driving home after a late shift, his mind hazy with exhaustion, when a black truck had sped up behind him, flashing its lights and honking. At first, he thought he was in the wrong lane and moved over, but the truck swerved with him, staying close to his bumper like a predator stalking its prey.

His heart raced, an uneasy feeling spreading through his gut. The truck’s engine roared as it tailgated him, headlights blinding. Every attempt he made to let it pass was met with more aggression. It seemed to revel in his panic.

"What’s your problem?" he yelled, slamming his palm against the steering wheel. He sped up, trying to lose it, but the truck matched his pace, staying inches away.

A sign for a detour loomed ahead, illuminated in the truck's headlights. Without thinking, he veered onto the exit, hoping to shake the driver off his trail. His tires screeched as he took the sharp turn, and he glanced back, relieved to see the truck disappearing into the night.

But the relief was short-lived. The detour led him down a narrow, winding road lined with thick trees. The further he drove, the more the trees seemed to close in, their branches arching over the path like skeletal hands.

He glanced at his phone, its screen displaying ‘No Signal.’ "Of course," he muttered, trying to keep his eyes on the road. The unease grew into something else—something colder, more insistent.

Up ahead, the road split into two. The left path continued through the forest, while the right led into what appeared to be an abandoned industrial area, the remains of long-forgotten factories looming in the shadows. He hesitated for a moment, then took the left path, figuring it was safer to stay on the main road.

His pulse quickened when he caught a glimpse of headlights in the rearview mirror. The black truck. Its lights blazed through the trees, tearing through the darkness like a demon unleashed.

"No, no, no," he whispered, pressing down on the gas. His car jolted forward, but the truck was gaining on him. It was as if it had been waiting for him to make the wrong turn.

The road twisted and narrowed, and Zack’s car bounced over potholes and debris. He gripped the wheel tighter, trying to navigate the increasingly treacherous terrain. The truck’s horn blared, a sound that seemed to echo through the forest, vibrating through his bones.

Then, it happened.

His car lurched as the engine sputtered. The headlights flickered once, twice, and then went out completely, plunging him into darkness. He slammed on the brakes, and the car skidded to a stop. His heart hammered as he fumbled with the keys, but the engine only coughed in response.

The truck’s headlights grew larger in the rearview mirror like twin eyes glaring at him. He could feel its presence—ominous, relentless.

"Please, start, please!" he begged, turning the key again. The engine roared to life, and he felt a rush of hope—until something heavy slammed into the back of his car, pushing him forward. His head snapped back, and pain shot through his neck.

The truck’s engine revved, and it slammed into him again. Zack screamed, gripping the wheel as he was pushed further down the road. The truck wasn’t just following; it was hunting.

Desperation set in. He threw the car into gear and floored it, careening through the darkness. His vision blurred as the headlights returned, illuminating the road in ghostly white. The truck stayed behind, its engine roaring like a beast.

Up ahead, he saw a small clearing—a chance to pull over and hide. He swerved off the road, cutting the engine and dousing the lights. He held his breath, heart pounding in his ears. The truck’s headlights swept past, and he watched as it sped by, disappearing into the night.

For a moment, silence returned, the kind that pressed against his ears. He exhaled slowly, trying to steady his nerves.

And then, he heard it—a faint, rhythmic thumping. His eyes darted to the rearview mirror. The truck was gone, but the sound continued. It was close, too close.

He turned, and there, in the glow of the moonlight, he saw it—a figure standing behind his car. Its eyes were black, hollow pits, and its mouth twisted into a grin that sent ice through his veins. The figure lifted its hand, a bloody crowbar glinting in the darkness.

Zack’s breath caught in his throat. He slammed the door lock just as the figure lunged. It struck the window, the crowbar cracking the glass. He screamed, fumbling to start the car again, but his hands shook too much.

The window shattered, and the crowbar hooked around the frame. He screamed louder, kicking at the door, but the figure's grip was iron. In the dim light, he could see its face—no longer human, but something else entirely. Its skin was stretched too tight, its eyes black and unblinking.

The engine roared to life just as the door creaked open. Zack stomped on the gas, and the car lurched forward, throwing the figure back into the darkness. He tore down the road, the wind howling through the shattered window.

His breath came in ragged gasps as he glanced in the mirror. The road was empty, but he knew it wasn’t over. The darkness seemed alive, every shadow reaching out to grab him. His eyes darted between the road and the mirror, searching for any sign of the truck or that twisted figure.

Just when he thought he was safe, the road opened up into a familiar intersection—the same detour he’d taken earlier. Panic surged as he realized he’d been driving in circles. The truck’s headlights appeared again, blazing through the darkness.

"No!" he screamed, slamming the steering wheel. He veered onto the other path, the one leading to the industrial area. The factories loomed like giants, their broken windows watching him as he sped by.

But the truck was relentless. It closed the gap, and Zack felt the impact as it rammed his car again. The road narrowed, hemmed in by rusted fences and twisted metal. He swerved, trying to keep control, but the truck was too close.

Then, out of nowhere, the road ended.

Zack slammed on the brakes, his car skidding to a halt at the edge of a steep drop. He stared at the cliff, heart racing, as the truck’s engine roared behind him. He looked back just in time to see it speeding toward him.

A scream tore from his lips as the truck collided with his car, sending it flying over the edge. His world flipped, and he felt weightless, suspended in the air. The ground rushed up to meet him, and he braced himself for impact.

As the darkness closed in, he heard a whisper—a voice that seemed to come from the shadows, cold and hungry.

"You took the wrong turn."