The Passenger
Ten minutes down the pitch-black trail, the app spoke again.
“In one hundred feet, prepare to stop for your passenger.”Liam’s foot hovered over the brake. "Passenger? What passenger?" he muttered, looking out into the bleak, foggy woods. There was no one. Just the endless rows of black trunks.
The back bumper dipped, exactly as if someone had just hopped onto the tailgate, or trunk. The car felt heavier. Liam’s heart did a violent flip in his chest. He looked at his rearview mirror.
The backseat was empty.
“Passenger secured. Please maintain a speed of forty miles per hour to ensure compliance,” the app droned.
Liam slammed his foot on the gas, terrified. "Shut up, shut up, shut up," he whispered, trying to close the app. The screen was frozen. The map showed his little blue arrow moving deeper into a gray grid with no roads.
The View in the Mirror
The temperature inside the car plummeted. Liam could see his own breath blooming in white plumes against the windshield.
Then came the smell. It wasn't the smell of a person. It smelled like copper, wet earth, and old, stagnant blood.
“Warning,” the app chimed. “Driver eye-contact detected. Do not look at the rearview mirror.”
Liam’s eyes immediately darted upward to the mirror.
The backseat was still empty. But as he stared, two pale, bloodless hands slowly rose from behind the headrests of the back seats. They had no fingernails, just jagged, raw skin. The hands gripped the headrests, and a face began to rise from the darkness below the seat level.
It had no eyes—just hollow, weeping black sockets—and a mouth split open in a jagged, fleshless grin that stretched too wide to be human.
Liam screamed, tearing his eyes away and focusing hard on the road. His hands shook so violently he almost lost control of the wheel.
“Speed dropping. Your passenger is displeased,” the app warned.
From the backseat, a wet, rattling breath scraped against Liam’s neck. He could feel a freezing, foul air blowing on his ear. The thing was leaning forward.
The Twist
, crying, and sobbing for his life, Liam screamed at the phone. "Where are you taking me?! How do I get it out?!"
The app chirped instantly, its calm voice a horrific contrast to the nightmare in the car.
“Destination reached. Pull over.”
Liam slammed on the brakes. The car skidded to a halt in a small, gravel clearing. In front of his headlights stood an old, rusted pickup truck, its hazard lights dimly blinking.
“Your passenger has reached their destination,” the app said. “Please assist with the transfer.”
The weight in the backseat vanished. Liam looked in the rearview mirror—nothing. He looked out the window. Through the fog, he saw the pale, eyeless creature effortlessly gliding toward the rusted pickup truck ahead.It didn't open the door of the truck. It simply melted through the metal, disappearing inside.
Liam let out a sob of pure relief. It was over. The thing was gone. He could turn around and drive back to the highway. He put the car in reverse.
The Shocking Ending
Before Liam could hit the gas, the screen of his phone flashed bright red.
A new notification popped up from the app. It wasn't a navigation instruction. It was a digital receipt.
“Route Complete. Thank you for using Dead-End Rides. Your account has been credited $250.00.”
Liam stared at the screen, his brain short-circuiting. Credited? Paid?
Suddenly, the app’s automated voice spoke one final time, but the tone was different now. It sounded almost amused.
“New order accepted nearby. Preparing vehicle for the next passenger.”
Liam went to unlock his doors to run, but a loud CLICK echoed through the cabin. The automatic locks engaged, snapping shut. The steering wheel locked tightly in place. The gas pedal depressed itself under his foot, and the engine roared to life on its own.
Liam looked at his hands, but he couldn't move them. His body was completely paralyzed, bound by an invisible, crushing force.
The car slowly turned around, driving itself back into the dark woods.
As the app rerouted, Liam watched the front windshield mirror in absolute horror. His own face was changing. His eyes were sinking into his skull, turning into hollow, weeping black sockets, and his jaw was stretching, cracking, splitting open into a wide, fleshless grin.
He wasn't the driver anymore. He was the new ride.
