Our Drive

Lucas tapped the button beneath the trunk lip. It lowered with a smooth mechanical hum, sealing their things inside. He zipped his coat, exhaled into the cold, and slid into the driver’s seat. Brenda, already settled in the passenger seat in her oversized hoodie, popped a piece of gum into her mouth and began blowing slow, deliberate bubbles.

“Is that everything?” Lucas asked, glancing at the rearview mirror as if something might still be missing.

“Did you remember to use the bathroom?” Brenda said, her voice dipped in sarcasm but anchored in just enough sincerity to land. Her eyebrows lifted, like she could will his bladder into awareness. Lucas paused.

“Good point. I’ll be right back.”

He jogged through the garage and disappeared into the house. Moments later, he returned, relief written plainly across his face.

“That would’ve been brutal,” he muttered, settling back in.

“Well,” Brenda said, reaching over and rubbing his cheek with a soft, teasing smile, “I guess I did help pack the car.” Lucas rolled his eyes, but there was affection behind it.

“Do you need to go?” he asked, sliding on his Ray-Bans, even though the world outside was still dark.

“Lucas,” she said flatly, “I went before I got in.”

“Sorry, babe, I just—”

“Oh, Lukey,” she softened, leaning into him slightly. “I didn’t mean it like that. I’ve just got cramps. Lady issues. Let’s not start the trip fighting.”

Lucas nodded, a flicker of guilt crossing his face. He pressed the ignition. The engine came alive.

“I love you,” he said.

“I know.” They kissed.

The garage door closed behind them with a low mechanical groan, sealing the house away as Lucas backed out into the night. The SUV slipped through the darkness like something that belonged to it. They left at night to beat traffic. That had been Lucas’s idea. One of many Brenda had learned to trust or resent, depending on the outcome. Lucas thrived on little sleep. Brenda tolerated it. Hours passed. Mountains rose, then fell behind them. Fog gave way to empty land. By the time the sun should have been fully up, the sky remained a dull, muted gray. No warmth. No movement. Just distance. Lucas blinked hard. His eyes burned. His hands tightened on the wheel. The car drifted slightly.

“Lucas!”

He snapped awake.

“I’m fine,” he said quickly, too quickly.

“Do you want me to drive?” Brenda asked, her voice softer now. Careful.

“No.”

It came out sharper than he meant. She leaned back, a quiet frustration settling into her posture.

“Honey… can we stop soon? I’m thirsty. Coffee would help both of us.”

Lucas stared straight ahead.

“I think there was a sign… thirty miles back.”

“Thirty miles?” she said. “That’s insane. How’s the gas?”

Lucas glanced down.

“We’re full.”

He frowned. Brenda turned.

“What do you mean full?”

“I mean full.” he shot back. Silence.

“Did you fill up while I was asleep?”

“No.”

Lucas pressed buttons on the dashboard. The screen glowed back at him, unchanged.

“Five hundred miles,” he whispered. “Range says five hundred.”

“That’s not possible.”

“I know.”

The road stretched on. No exits. No signs. No other cars. Hours passed. The sky didn’t move. The land didn’t change. Brenda shifted, pulling her legs down from the dashboard now.

“Lucas… where are we?”

“We’re about eight hours out,” he said. His voice sounded distant.

“Why haven’t we seen anything?” she pressed. “No gas stations, no rest stops, no people.”

“I don’t know.”

“How much gas do we have?”

“Five hundred miles.”

“How—”

“I don’t know, Brenda.”

But this time, when he said it, he smiled. Brenda felt it before she understood it. Something was wrong with his voice. Not the words. The space between them. She turned slowly.

“Lucas?”

His hands stayed perfectly still on the wheel. No micro-adjustments. No human corrections. The

car glided forward like it wasn’t being driven.

“Lucas… look at me.”

He didn’t.

“I said, ‘Look at me!’”

Slowly, his head turned. And when his eyes met hers, they weren’t human anymore. They were wide, with slits. Unblinking. Like something was looking out from behind them.

“You’re right,” he said softly.

His voice layered over itself, like two sounds occupying the same space.

“This isn’t where we were going.”

Brenda’s stomach dropped.

“What are you talking about?”

“Do you think I’m still Lucas?” what looked like Lucas asked devilishly.

The words landed without emotion. The world outside began to change. At first, it was subtle. The ground darkened. The color drained into something ashen and sick. The horizon blurred, like heat rising off pavement but there was no heat. Then, movement. Not of the car but of the land. Shapes pressed upward from the earth as if something beneath it was trying to surface. Brena rolled down the window. The smell hit her instantly. Burnt, rotting, and dry. Like something alive had been left too long. She gagged.

“Close it, Brenda. You don’t want to get yourself sick on the first day” he said gently.

She didn’t listen. She looked out. And saw faces. The flat surface around them turned from sand into a sea of faces, mouths and eyes vibrant with expressions of anguish, toiling in the ground. The faces were not fully formed. Brenda didn’t know if they were attached to bodies underneath the ground or not. But they were as far as the eye could see on either side of the road, stretching through the ground like impressions in soft clay. Mouths groaned but soundlessly. At least at first. As the car glided down the road cutting through the center of these faces, Brenda could faintly make out the sound of low, layered wailing. Miserably crying but not for any help. Just crying like the cries a newborn makes when it is trying to make sense of the world. The sky cracked open into a deep red-black void, like bruised flesh split apart. Something pulsed behind it. The road remained perfectly smooth. A path cutting through suffering.

“You need to stop the car,” Brenda whispered.

“I don’t think that would be a good idea, Brenda,” the figure said, the features that made it look like Lucas fading away.

“Stop the car!” Brenda yelled, shutting her eyes.

“I can’t,” retorted the beast.

“Yes, you can.”

“I don’t want to,” the driver said, chuckling to himself.

Her chest tightened.

“What is this?”

Whatever had wore Lucas tilted his head slightly.

“This is where the road goes.”

The cries grew louder. Figures began to rise along the sides. Thin, stretched, reaching, grotesque. Their limbs elongated unnaturally, fingers dragging against nothing as the car passed. Some turned their faces toward her. Some had no faces left. Brenda scrambled for the door handle. It didn’t move. The locks clicked.

“You’re trapped,” it said calmly.

She turned to him, tears already forming.

“Why me?”

For the first time, something like amusement flickered across his face.

“You got in.”

The light disappeared completely. Only the road remained. Brenda pressed herself against the door, shaking.

“Please… Lucas… please…”

He didn’t respond. He just kept driving. Perfectly steady. Perfectly controlled. Perfectly endless.

“We’re almost there.”