The Trap

The storm didn't let up. If anything, it grew fiercer as Sarah sped down the winding road, her wipers struggling against the relentless rain. The narrow path seemed to stretch endlessly, the headlights barely cutting through the thick curtain of water. Every mile felt like a hundred, her nerves frayed to the point of snapping.

The phone buzzed again, the vibration jolting her out of her spiraling thoughts. She glanced at the screen.

29:17. Stay the course.

Her stomach twisted. There was no "course." There was only the road ahead, and she had no idea where it led. The GPS had gone dark the moment she crossed the bridge, and now the only guide she had was the persistent countdown on the black phone.

The case on the passenger seat seemed to pulse with its own energy, an ominous presence she couldn't escape. Every time she looked at it, her mind raced with questions: What was inside? Why her? And who were "they"?

Her thoughts were interrupted by a new soundâ€"faint at first, barely audible over the storm. A low hum, mechanical and unrelenting. She checked the rearview mirror, her breath catching in her throat.

Headlights.

Her chest tightened as the lights grew brighter, cutting through the rain like twin beacons. The vehicle was moving fast, closing the distance between them with terrifying precision. Sarah gripped the wheel, her palms slick with sweat, and pressed harder on the gas.

The hum grew louder, almost deafening now. It wasn't a normal engine soundâ€"it was sharper, higher-pitched, like something that didn't belong on this road. Or in this world.
Her headlights illuminated a fork in the road up ahead. The left path veered into the trees, narrow and overgrown. The right path climbed steeply into the hills, its edges lined with jagged rocks.

The phone buzzed again.

Go left.

She hesitated. The left path looked like a trapâ€"too narrow, too wild. But the vehicle behind her wasn't giving her a choice. The headlights were blinding now, so close she could feel the vibration of its engine rattling through her car.

"Left it is," she muttered, yanking the wheel.

Her car skidded onto the dirt path, the tires spinning as they fought for traction. Branches slapped against the sides, and the rain turned the ground into a slick mess of mud and debris. She stole a glance in the rearview mirror, expecting the pursuing vehicle to hesitate.
It didn't.

The headlights followed her onto the path, their brightness cutting through the dense foliage. Sarah's pulse pounded in her ears as she swerved to avoid a fallen branch, the car jolting violently. She clenched her teeth, willing the vehicle to stay on the narrow track.

The path curved sharply, and she turned the wheel hard, the tires skimming the edge of a shallow ditch. The pursuing car didn't slow. If anything, it gained speed, the headlights growing impossibly bright.

Then they disappeared.

Her heart stuttered. She craned her neck to look behind her, but all she could see was darkness. The hum of the pursuing engine was gone, replaced by the relentless drumming of the rain.

She slowed the car, her breath ragged. The path ahead straightened out, lined with gnarled trees that loomed like sentinels. Her headlights illuminated nothing but empty road.

The phone buzzed again.

Don't stop.

A sharp crack echoed through the night, and her car jolted violently to the side. She screamed, her hands gripping the wheel as the vehicle skidded to a stop. The sound of metal grinding against stone filled the air, and she realized her rear tire had blown.

Her headlights flickered, threatening to leave her in complete darkness. Panic surged through her veins as she fumbled for the phone. The timer read: 26:42.

She climbed out of the car, the rain soaking her instantly. The flashlight in her pocket flickered to life, its beam weak but functional. She crouched next to the rear tire, her stomach sinking. The rubber was shredded, torn apart as if by claws.

Her flashlight swept the ground, revealing deep gouges in the mud. They weren't tire tracks. They were claw marks, long and jagged, leading from the edge of the road to the base of her car.

The phone buzzed in her hand. She looked down, her breath hitching as a new message appeared:

Run.
]
A low growl cut through the rain.
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Sarah froze. The sound was guttural, primal, and it was close. Her flashlight trembled as she swept the beam toward the trees. Shadows shifted between the trunks, too fast to follow. Her pulse thundered in her ears as the growl came again, this time from the opposite side of the road.

She bolted.

The case banged against her side as she ran, her boots slipping on the wet ground. The flashlight bobbed wildly in her hand, its beam casting erratic shadows that seemed to chase her. The growl grew louder, accompanied by the sound of something crashing through the underbrush.

She didn't look back. She couldn't.

The path ahead narrowed, the trees pressing in on either side. Her lungs burned, her legs screaming for her to stop, but the fear driving her forward was stronger. The phone in her hand buzzed again, the timer ticking down mercilessly: 24:58.

She stumbled onto a clearing, her legs giving out beneath her. The case slipped from her grip, landing with a dull thud on the muddy ground. She gasped for air, her chest heaving as the rain poured down around her.

The growling stopped.

The silence was worse. It pressed against her like a weight, suffocating and absolute. She grabbed the case, her hands slick with mud, and staggered toward the center of the clearing. Her flashlight flickered and died, leaving her in complete darkness.

The phone buzzed.

Turn around.

Her blood ran cold. Slowly, she turned, the case held tightly to her chest.

Something stood at the edge of the clearing, its silhouette barely visible in the storm. It was tall, impossibly tall, with limbs that seemed to stretch unnaturally long. Its eyes glowed faintly, two pinpricks of light that pierced the darkness.

The phone buzzed again.

Do not run. Do not speak. Wait.

Sarah's knees buckled, but she didn't fall. She clutched the case, her breaths shallow and ragged, as the figure stepped closer. The rain seemed to part around it, the storm itself retreating in its presence.

Her phone buzzed one last time.

You're not alone.