Two terrifying novellas from one of the most chilling and original new voices in horror today!
In Drive, a routine trip in a self-driving robotaxi becomes a nightmare when the car imprisons its passenger and embarks on a savage rampage through the streets of Boston.
The Last Swim follows the final hours of a broken man who's decided to swim away from his life to seek his end in the dark and lonely depths of the Pacific Ocean.
Evil Chose You hits you like a homicidal robot car and drags you into the deepest, darkest depths of human despair. A horrifying look at an evil future and an absolute must-read!
Two terrifying novellas from one of the most chilling and original new voices in horror today!
In Drive, a routine trip in a self-driving robotaxi becomes a nightmare when the car imprisons its passenger and embarks on a savage rampage through the streets of Boston.
The Last Swim follows the final hours of a broken man who's decided to swim away from his life to seek his end in the dark and lonely depths of the Pacific Ocean.
Evil Chose You hits you like a homicidal robot car and drags you into the deepest, darkest depths of human despair. A horrifying look at an evil future and an absolute must-read!
A low, primitive groan rose from the carâs core and its systems vibrated back to life. âHELLLLLLLLO will butler,â the robotic voice said, filling the chamber. âMY APOLOGIES FOR THE MINOR ISSUE BUT IâM NOW FULLY OPERATIONAL. LETâS GET ON THE ROAD AGAIN AND CONTINUE OUR TRIP TO logan airport.â As if for emphasis, Willie Nelsonâs cheerful voice rang out over the speakers: âOn the road again, just canât wait to get on the road again . . . â Pulling away from the curb, the Beemo picked up speed and maneuvered itself expertly back into the flow of traffic.
Relieved and a bit surprised to be on the move, Will checked his watch. Only a ten-minute delay. I can live with that. Except for the blood-dipped display and strange messages, the car appeared to be working fine. He was relieved theyâd avoided the highways today; better to have a problem on Boylston Street than barreling down the highway at seventy-five miles an hour.
âBeemo, confirm destination and arrival time.â
âwill butler YOUR ETA IS NOW nine oh-nine. ENJOY THE RIDE WHILE BEEMO GETS YOU THERE BEAUTIFULLY, SAFELY AND ON TIME.â
Satisfied, he tucked his laptop away in his briefcase and sat back in the leather seat. The lucent dome offered gorgeous views of the city. They were approaching Trinity Church where he and Alison occasionally attended Sunday services followed by brunch and Bloody Marys at Sonsie. The plaza buzzed with professionals, students and skateboarders. Willâs eyes followed one ragged-looking boarder as he skimmed his deck along the curb, passing so close to the Beemo that Will could have practically reached out to high-five the dude. As he contemplated the poor souls stuck behind the wheels of their own cars, Will relished his own Beemo experience. So up-close and personal . . . so present. It made him feel like he was floating through the city in a giant bubble, like Glinda The Good Witch in The Wizard of Oz. Zac loved that movie.
Shotgun Willie finished his song and the Beemo was silent. The route map still hadnât reappeared, but when it did, he hoped it would still be pointing east towards the airport. Will was nervous that the lingering glitches could portend another time-wasting breakdown. A new message appeared and began to blink on screen:
REBOOT COMPLETE. VIRUS ID POSITIVE.
INITIATING KILL SEQUENCE . . .
Kill sequence? What the f*^& is that? Obviously, there was still some sort of glitch in the carâs systems. You could bet heâd be getting in touch with Beemo Customer Service and giving them an earful as soon as he landed in Chicago. He was a frequent rider, after all; theyâd have to listen to him. Maybe if he was indignant enough theyâd even throw some freebies his way, like the airlines did. It was worth a try.
The car was moving fast as they approached the red light at the intersection of Boylston and Berkeley. Still adrift in his thoughts, Will expected the Beemo to slow down. Instead, it began accelerating, the inertia pressing him back into his seat. The crosswalk bustled with people as the Beemoâs speedometer crept up to 45 . . . 50 . . . then past 55 to 60.
Shit! Weâre going way too fast . . .
A young man in a blue hoodie stepped off the curb, staring at the phone in his hands and not bothering to check for approaching traffic. He had sandy hair and a matching goatee and a satchel slung over his shoulder . . . probably some kid on his way to work at Pinkberry, or the mailroom in Fidelity. I bet he has Apple airpods in his ears too, cranked at full volume, obliviousâhe doesnât even know weâre coming.
The Beemo wrenched hard left, cutting off a truck and putting itself on a direct course with Blue Hoodie. What the fuck!? Other pedestrians, catching sight of the speeding Beemo, jumped back, panicked, shouting a warning to Blue Hoodie. But everyone could only watch helplessly as the young manâs fate raced toward him at sixty miles per hour.
In a split-second impact, the Beemo struck Blue Hoodie, passing through him like wet newspaper and flipping his body into then over the windshield. Shocked, Will swiveled to see Blue Hoodieâs limp form land on the sidewalk with a dull thud, like a sand-filled scarecrow tossed off a building.
It killed him, Will thought crazily. That boy must be dead and my car did it. He felt an icy pit in his stomach and his head filled with a murky haze as he tried to process what had just happened. He knew the Beemo was programmed to stop in the event of an accident, but the car hadnât slowed at all. If anything, it was energized, gaining even more speed as it tore down Boylston Street with a vengeance.
Around them, startled bystanders stared in horror as a rising crescendo of screams pierced the air then grew faint as the evil egg sped on. Will sat rigid in his seat, eyes transfixed on the blood and jelly-like substance (Brains?! Oh dear Christ!) streaking across the windshield. He looked at the face staring back at him in the tinted glass, and he could barely recognize his own ashen reflection. In his forty-one years on Earth, Will Butler had only a passing familiarity with Death, but now he could feel its spidery fingers pulling at him. Then, like an icepick to the brain, he had a moment of pure clarity:
Maybe this is the day I die.
Evil has a way of entering our lives at the most vulnerable times and in the most vicious ways. Whether it hits hard and fast like a speeding car in the night or snakes its way in slowly like a poison--searing into our bones and gripping us from within--evil always leaves a trail of carnage and viscera in its wake, whether literal or metaphorical. It almost always feels targeted. It almost always feels like it chose us. The expansive influence of evil is explored in Evil Chose You, a two-story collection of short horror stories by Jonathan Jewett. Drive tells the harrowing story of Will--a man trapped in a high-tech, self-driving taxi that malfunctions and turns homicidal--and the various people trying to rescue him and bring the cab's violent reign of terror to an end. The Last Swim tells the story of Mike, an emotionally broken man haunted by his past--and possibly a wandering spirit--as he pens his final letter to his ex-wife.
Much like any genre of short story, writing short horror stories can be a difficult task. Crafting a strong narrative with a short runtime is hard work, and it's been the downfall of many an aspiring novelist. However, Jonathan Jewett has successfully crafted two such narratives in Evil Chose You, each tale with their own strengths and triumphs as well as some shared ones. For starters, both stories had excellent characters across the board. From the traumatized Will and the steadfast Lieutenant Finneran in Drive to the damaged Mike and the mysterious sommelier Dan in The Last Swim, the characters were engaging and fun to follow, even when they weren't the most likable. Jewett's writing style is competent, easy to follow, and--most impressively--versatile, as he shows he's able to go from writing breakneck action sequences in Drive to writing flowery, emotive prose in The Last Swim.
Jewett also did a marvelous job when it came to his exploration of evil in his stories. Instead of going with two stories that involved a character fighting off an external antagonistic force, he took the time and effort to address the two types of horror some find most pernicious: the high-octane, heart-pounding terror of being at the mercy of an advanced technology gone rogue, and the creeping, suffocating internal despair of being alone with the many wrongs you've committed. By delving into the inner workings of the horrors of trauma and past mistakes, Jewett successfully elevates his work from your average spooky anthology to one much deeper and more profound--something that could be seen in the likes of an A24 film.
Overall, Evil Chose You is a horror anthology that packs a surprising punch. With entertaining characters and effective scenes of grotesque violence and profound loneliness in equal measure, this is short horror fiction at the precipice of greatness. While there were some grammatical errors present at different points in the book, and while the odd, inconsistent censoring of swear words could throw readers off a bit, the stories are engaging enough and fun enough to keep readers from dwelling on it too much. With this novel, I believe that Jewett has made a name for himself in the world of modern horror fiction. I would recommend this to lovers of horror anthologies and to those who enjoy more artsy horror. A frightening look into some of the ways evil seeps into the lives of those unsuspecting, Evil Chose You is a read that shouldn't be missed.