If You See the Elara Gas Station on Highway 10, You Need to Keep Driving. I'm Begging You.
I’m typing this with my left hand while my right arm sits in my lap, useless and throbbing. I’m pretty sure the bone is poking through the skin. I’m huddled in the back of my Civic, trying to breathe quietly so he doesn't hear me over the wind.
If you see this, and you’re anywhere near Highway 10, just keep going. I don’t care if your fuel light is screaming at you. I don't care if you’ve been driving for twelve hours. Just don't stop.
It was 3 AM. The desert was a void, just a black hole that swallowed my headlights. My ’98 Civic was rattling like it was about to fall apart, and the gas light had been on for way too long. Chloe was passed out against the window, her auburn hair stuck to her face. She looked so peaceful, which just made me feel like more of a loser for dragging her out here on some "road trip" we couldn't even afford.
Then I saw the sign. ELARA. The 'A' was dead, so it just flickered EL_RA against the dark.
I pulled in, the gravel crunching loud as hell in the silence. My phone had one bar of signal. Not even enough to load a map. I killed the engine and the silence that rushed in was... heavy. Like the air had turned to lead.
The station was a shack. Plywood on the windows, peeling yellow paint, and the smell of stale coffee and raw gasoline. Behind a scratched-up plexiglass shield sat a woman who looked like she’d been dried out in the sun for sixty years.
"Evening," I muttered, trying to sound like a normal human and not a guy who was down to his last twenty bucks. "Full tank, please."
She didn't say anything at first. She just stared past me, out toward the edge of the lot. I turned around to see what she was looking at.
There was a pickup truck parked in the shadows. Leaning against it was a guy in a faded work jacket. He wasn't moving. He was just there, like a statue, watching the car. Even from twenty feet away, I could feel his eyes on the back of my neck.
"Long way from anywhere, ain't ya?" the woman rasped. Her voice sounded like someone dragging a shovel over pavement. "Lot of folks get lost out here. Sometimes they don't find the way back."
"Yeah, well. Just Phoenix for us," I said, trying to laugh it off. It felt forced.
"Some roads aren't meant to be traveled twice." She gestured to a rack of candy. "Want a snack? Got a fresh box of sour worms this afternoon."
I looked at the box. It looked like it had been sitting there since the 80s. "No thanks. Just the gas."
I went back out to fill the tank. The fluorescent light above the pump was buzzing, a sickly yellow flicker.
As I stood there, I saw something red on the ground. A crumpled candy wrapper. A cheap chocolate bar. I’d seen that same wrapper earlier, through the window before I even got out of the car. It was in the exact same spot, the exact same folds.
I know it sounds stupid. It’s just trash, right? But it gave me the chills. Like the whole place was a stage set and someone had forgotten to move the props.
I could still feel the guy by the truck watching me. I didn't look back. I just paid the woman my last twenty, got in the car, and locked the doors.
"Careful on the road," I heard her mutter as I walked out. "The desert takes what it wants."
I glanced at the shadows where the truck had been. It was empty. The guy was gone. No engine starting, no footsteps. Just... gone.
I pulled back onto the highway, and for a second, I felt that wave of relief. We were back on the asphalt. We were safe.
Then I heard it. A faint, metallic click from somewhere under the chassis. It sounded like a lock engaging.
A mile down the road, the car started to shudder. Thump. Thump. Thump.
"Leo? What's happening?" Chloe woke up, her eyes wide and panicked.
"I don't know," I hissed, fighting the steering wheel as the car lurched toward the shoulder.
I got out, the wind screaming in my ears. The rear passenger tire wasn't just flat. It was shredded. Torn to ribbons by something heavy. And there, buried deep in the rubber, was a massive pipe wrench.
My stomach dropped. There was no way I hit that on the road. It had been wedged in there.
Then, out of the dark, I heard a new sound. Tap... tap... tap...
A figure stepped into the edge of my taillights. It was the guy from the station. He was walking toward us, rhythmic and slow, tapping a second wrench against his leg.
"Leo," he said. His voice was a whisper, but it sounded like it was right inside my ear. "You forgot something."
"How do you know my name?" I backed away, my heart hitting my ribs like a trapped bird.
He stopped a few feet away. His eyes were a pale, dead blue. He was smiling, but his face didn't move. "You can't leave without paying the toll, Leo. Nobody ever does."
He didn't wait. He lunged.
Everything happened so fast. I threw my arm up to protect my face and—CRACK.
My forearm snapped like a dry twig. I fell into the dirt, screaming, my vision going white.