1. Introduction – A Desperate Search for Gas
The long stretch of highway unraveled before Vanessa, a lonely ribbon of asphalt cutting through an ocean of dense, towering trees. The moon, swollen and pale, peeked out from behind a thick veil of clouds, casting fleeting silver streaks over the road. It had been hours since she had last seen another car, hours since she had passed through the last town.
Her fingers flexed against the steering wheel, tension creeping into her shoulders as the first waves of unease stirred inside her. This route wasn’t part of the plan. She was supposed to be on the main highway, where road signs, gas stations, and civilization were within reach. But her GPS had rerouted her due to construction miles back, leading her onto this unfamiliar, desolate road.
Vanessa sighed, shifting in her seat as she adjusted the volume on her car’s radio. The static hissed, broken only by faint snippets of a voice—some late-night talk show drowning in interference. She tried to tune into something clearer, but every station was the same: just static, as if the world outside had gone silent.
She reached for her phone, checking the screen for the tenth time in the last hour. No signal. A sharp, uncomfortable pang settled in her chest. The road signs had become infrequent, the landmarks unrecognizable. She wasn’t even sure if she was still headed in the right direction. Her boss was expecting her early in the morning, and at this rate, she was going to be late. Not that it mattered much anymore. The gas light on her dashboard flickered on, the tiny amber glow an omen she had been dreading. “Shit,” she muttered under her breath, tightening her grip on the wheel. She had meant to stop for gas hours ago, but every station she passed had been closed, the small towns already asleep for the night. She told herself she’d find something soon, but now, as the gauge needle hovered dangerously close to empty, panic prickled beneath her skin.
Her mind raced through worst-case scenarios. Stranded in the middle of nowhere. No signal. No passing cars. No help. She tried to shake the thoughts away. Maybe it wasn’t as bad as it seemed. Maybe there was a town just a few miles ahead, with a brightly lit gas station waiting to ease her anxiety. But what if there wasn’t? The thought made her stomach tighten. She had never been great at handling situations like this. Her mother had always teased her for being paranoid, for double-checking locks, for avoiding certain areas at night. But wasn’t caution better than carelessness? A childhood memory surfaced, unbidden. A story her grandfather used to tell her. “Never stop at an empty gas station after dark,” he had once warned, his voice a low whisper, meant to frighten her. “Not all of them are safe. Some aren’t even real. You see a place that looks too empty, too still? Keep driving.” At the time, she had rolled her eyes. Just another one of his ghost stories, meant to keep her from wandering too far from home. But now, alone on this forgotten stretch of road, she found herself gripping the steering wheel just a little tighter. The minutes stretched, the road seeming endless, an unchanging tunnel of darkness. She was running out of time.
Her eyes scanned the horizon desperately, searching for anything – any sign of life. Then, finally, a flicker of light in the distance. She straightened, hope swelling in her chest. A gas station. The neon sign blinked faintly, struggling against the night, its glow sickly and pale. She couldn’t read the name of the station from here, but she didn’t care. Relief poured through her, drowning out the unease curling at the edges of her thoughts. But as she drew closer, that relief soured. The station looked old. Not just old – abandoned.
The cracked pavement was littered with fallen leaves, the gas pumps rusted, their digital screens blank. The main building stood under the flickering glow of a single streetlight, its windows dark, the interior impossible to see from the outside. Something about it made her uneasy. Where were the other cars? Even in the middle of the night, most gas stations had at least someone fueling up. But there was no movement here. No hum of a nearby engine, no shifting shadows inside the store. Just the faint, mechanical buzz of the flickering neon OPEN sign.
Vanessa hesitated, her hands hovering over the wheel. Every instinct in her body told her to keep driving. But her fuel gauge told her otherwise. She was running on fumes. She had no choice. Taking a deep breath, she pulled into the station, her tires crunching over the gravel. The sound was too loud in the silence, echoing against the stillness of the night. She turned off the engine, the sudden lack of noise almost deafening. For a moment, she just sat there. She forced herself to move. The sooner she got gas, the sooner she could leave. As she stepped out of the car, the night air wrapped around her, colder than she expected. A gust of wind stirred the trees behind the station, their skeletal branches swaying against the sky. And then – a noise. A faint rustling, just beyond the edge of the trees. She froze, heart hammering. It could have been the wind. It had to be the wind. Still, her pulse remained a frantic drumbeat in her ears as she turned toward the gas pump, forcing herself to ignore the uneasy feeling curling in her stomach. She reached for her wallet. A shadow moved. Vanessa’s breath caught in her throat. She wasn’t alone.
2. The Mysterious Attendant
The silence was thick, oppressive, as Vanessa stood beside her car, her breath forming small clouds in the cool night air. Something wasn’t right. The flickering neon “OPEN” sign buzzed overhead, casting erratic shadows that stretched across the cracked pavement. But there was no other sign of life. No cars. No sound of insects. No hum of refrigeration units from inside the station. And yet, she felt eyes on her. Her heartbeat quickened as she scanned the darkened storefront. The large windows reflected only the dim glow of the neon light, but behind the glass, a shadow moved. Someone was inside. Watching her. She swallowed hard, glancing at her fuel gauge one last time. She really didn’t have a choice. She needed gas if she wanted to keep going. She just had to get in and out quickly. As she approached the pump, she hesitated. The screen was completely blank. No numbers, no instructions, nothing. She pressed a few buttons, but the machine remained lifeless.
Vanessa turned toward the gas station, nerves tightening in her chest. The door swung open before she could reach for the handle. A man stepped out. He was tall and lean, his uniform faded and stained with oil. The name tag on his chest was unreadable, the letters smudged and worn away. His greasy hair hung in limp strands over his forehead, and his face was too pale, as though he hadn’t seen the sun in years. But it was his eyes that made her skin crawl. They were too still, too focused. Like he had been waiting for her.
She forced herself to stand her ground, adjusting the strap of her bag. “Hey, I need a full tank,” she said, trying to sound casual. The man’s thin lips curved into a slow, unnatural smile. “That so?” His voice was deep, but there was something wrong about the way he spoke, like each word had to be carefully placed. Vanessa nodded, shifting on her feet. “Yeah.” His gaze didn’t leave her face. “Not many folks come through here this late.” She offered a tight smile. “Yeah, well, I didn’t exactly plan it.” He tilted his head slightly, as if considering something. “Where you headed?” Vanessa hesitated. The way he asked it—it wasn’t the usual small talk from a gas station clerk. It was too direct. “Just…
heading home.” “Home, huh?” The way he repeated the word sent a chill up her spine. His eyes flicked
toward her car, scanning it slowly before returning to her. “You travelin’ alone?” Her stomach twisted. “My boyfriend’s waiting for me,” she lied, hoping it sounded convincing.
The attendant grinned wider. “That right?” Something about the way he said it made her pulse quicken. She held up her credit card. “Can I just pay and get this over with?” His eyes lingered on her for a second too long before he finally reached for the card. But as she extended it, she stopped. “Actually—” she took a step towards the pump. “Let me try it myself.” The man didn’t move, just watched as she slid her card into the reader. Nothing. She tried again. Still nothing. The screen remained blank, unresponsive. Vanessa’s mouth went dry. That didn’t make sense. She turned back toward him, suddenly more aware of how alone she was. The attendant’s smile never faded as he held out his hand. “Card reader’s a little tricky. Let me do it for ya.” Vanessa clenched her jaw. Her gut screamed at her not to let him touch her card. But what choice did she have? Reluctantly, she placed it in his palm. His fingers were cold against hers. She quickly withdrew her hand, stuffing it into the pocket of her jacket.
The man took his time swiping the card, watching her the entire time. The reader beeped, and he handed it back. “All set,” he said. Vanessa snatched the card, shoving it into her pocket. “Thanks,” she muttered, stepping back toward her car. She could feel his gaze on her as she moved. Her hands shook
slightly as she grabbed the pump handle and started filling her tank. She needed to get out of here. The silence stretched between them. Then he spoke again. “You sure you’re headin’ home?” Her breath caught in her throat. “What?” The attendant’s head tilted again, that eerie grin still frozen on his face. “Just sayin’… lotta people come through here late at night. Some of ‘em don’t make it where they’re goin’.” Vanessa’s skin prickled. She forced herself to keep her voice steady. “Well, I’m not planning on sticking around.”
The pump clicked off. She exhaled in relief, hurriedly returning the nozzle and screwing the gas cap shut. “Alright, thanks,” she said, moving quickly toward her driver’s seat. But as she reached for the door handle—she saw it. A row of faded sun-bleached posters on the side of the gas station. Missing persons. Dozens of them. Some of the pictures were decades old. Others looked more recent. Her breath hitched. She turned back to the attendant, her pulse pounding. “How long has this station been here?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. The man’s grin widened. “Oh, long enough.” She felt a sudden wave of nausea. She needed to leave. Now.
Vanessa turned back toward her car, but her stomach dropped. In the reflection of her driver’s side window, she saw another figure. Someone standing just beyond the edge of the gas station’s light. Not the attendant. Someone else. Watching. Her breath caught in her throat. How long had they been there? Slowly, she turned. The second man was larger, dressed in a thick jacket that obscured most of his features. His face was hidden in shadow, but she could see his breath in the cold air. He wasn’t moving. Just standing there. Waiting. Vanessa’s heart slammed against her ribs.
The attendant didn’t acknowledge the man at all. He just smiled at her, his teeth slightly too white under the flickering gas station lights. “Safe travels,” he said softly. Vanessa’s hands shook as she yanked open the door and practically threw herself inside. She locked the doors, forcing her breathing to steady. She turned the key. The car didn’t start. The attendant was still smiling. The second man took a slow step forward. Vanessa’s hands trembled as she tried again. Click. Click. Nothing. Her breath came in ragged gasps. She glanced at the station one last time. There were no security cameras.
No one else in sight. She was completely, horribly alone. And the men knew it.
3. The Uneasy Escape
Vanessa’s pulse pounded in her ears as she twisted the key again. Click. Nothing. Her breath came in short, panicked gasps as she gripped the wheel, knuckles white. This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be happening. She tried again, harder this time. Click. Click. No ignition. No escape. The gas station attendant hadn’t moved from his spot near the pump, his eerie grin still fixed in place. But the second man—the one lurking in the shadows—was definitely moving. Slow, deliberate steps.
Vanessa’s hands shook as she tried to breathe through the growing terror, clawing its way up her throat. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe the cold night air had messed with her engine. Maybe- No. Something was wrong. Very wrong. The second man wasn’t looking at her car. He was looking at the store. And then he nodded toward the attendant. A silent message. Vanessa’s stomach turned to ice. The attendant’s too-wide grin twitched slightly, then, as if on cue, he turned and walked back inside the store—without another word. A flicker of hesitation rooted Vanessa in place. Why would he leave? If she was really just a stranded customer, wouldn’t he try to help? Or at least pretend to? He wasn’t worried about her leaving. Because he knew something she didn’t. Her throat tightened. She had to act. Now.
Vanessa yanked her phone from her pocket, praying for a miracle. No signal. Her gut twisted. The second man had stopped walking, standing just at the edge of the gas station’s flickering light. He was close enough now that she could make out the shape of something in his hand. A rag? A cloth? Her stomach dropped. Chloroform? No. No. She forced her body into motion, reaching for the door handle- Then she stopped. Her instincts screamed at her to drive, to keep trying the engine until it roared to life. But another voice whispered a chilling thought: What if they cut the fuel line? What if they were waiting for her to panic? To try to flee when she had no real way out. She had to be smart. Her eyes flicked toward the store. The gas station looked abandoned, like it had been standing there for decades without maintenance. But inside… Maybe there was another way out. A back door. A phone. Something.
Vanessa swallowed hard. Every muscle in her body screamed at her to stay put, but she knew that wasn’t an option. If she just sat here, waiting, she’d never make it out. She had to go inside. The bell above the door jingled hollowly as she stepped into the station. The air inside was stale, thick with the scent of dust and old oil. The fluorescent lights above buzzed faintly, some flickering just enough to cast shifting shadows along the shelves. At first glance, the store seemed empty. No sign of the attendant. No sign of anyone. The coolers along the back wall hummed, but condensation had built up on the glass. Most of the drinks inside were covered in dust. Some looked like they had been expired for years. Vanessa’s heart pounded. She needed to move. Fast. As she stepped forward, her shoe stuck slightly to the tile. A dark stain marred the linoleum near the counter. She swallowed. Don’t think about it. She forced herself forward, moving past the shelves stacked with candy bars so faded they looked ancient. The magazine rack was filled with issues from the early 2000s. Not a single new publication. But it was the bulletin board near the register that made her breath hitch. It was covered in missing person posters. Her stomach twisted. Some of them were old, their paper yellowed and
curling at the edges. Others… looked fresh. Vanessa scanned the faces. Young women. Travelers. All of them. A fresh wave of terror slammed into her.
This wasn’t random. They were all people like her. Her gaze darted toward the counter. There was a landline phone beside the register. Maybe it worked. She lunged for it, snatching up the receiver and pressing it to her ear. No dial tone. She slammed it back down, her pulse roaring. A sound came from the back of the store. Vanessa whirled. The attendant was standing at the end of the aisle, watching her. Her breath caught. For the first time, he wasn’t smiling. She took an unconscious step backward. “My car won’t start.” Her voice was too thin, too shaky. “Is there another phone?” The attendant’s head tilted. “Out of service.” Her skin crawled. Her eyes flicked toward the door behind him. A
staff-only door. The attendant followed her gaze. A slow, knowing grin crept back onto his face.
Vanessa’s blood turned to ice. Without thinking, she bolted. Her feet slammed against the tile as she sprinted toward the back. The attendant moved fast—faster than he should have. Vanessa barely made it to the staff-only door before she felt fingers graze the back of her jacket. She shoved against the door hard, twisting the handle. It wouldn’t budge. Locked. Her chest heaved. Her fingers scrabbled against the wood, searching for another way – Then she saw them. The scratches. Deep gouges, carved into the
door near the handle. Desperate claw marks. Her stomach lurched. Someone had been here before her. Someone who had tried—and failed—to get out. The attendant’s breath was hot against the back of her neck.
Vanessa’s instincts kicked in. She turned sharply, raising her knee as hard as she could. It connected with his stomach. The attendant let out a grunt, but it wasn’t pain, it was amusement. His fingers curled around her arm. Too strong. She twisted, biting down on his wrist. He cursed, jerking back. It was enough. She bolted past him, back into the aisles. Vanessa skidded around the corner, her lungs burning. The store felt smaller now, the shelves taller, the aisles like a maze. Her eyes darted toward the front entrance. She could see her car through the window, waiting just feet away. But then she saw the second man. He was closer now. No longer standing at the edge of the station’s light. He was right outside the door.
Vanessa’s chest tightened. The attendant’s voice came from behind her, light and teasing. “Goin’ somewhere?” She didn’t hesitate. She grabbed the first thing she saw on the shelf—a glass bottle of motor oil—and hurled it. It shattered against the tile. The thick liquid spilled across the floor, and Vanessa ran. She dove toward the exit. Her hands slammed against the glass door, pushing— Locked. A chuckle behind her. She turned— The attendant was already stepping over the spilled oil, unfazed. The second man’s shadow stretched across the glass. Vanessa’s heartbeat pounded loud enough to drown out the silence. She had seconds. Seconds before they grabbed her. Her eyes flicked to the windows. Her only way out. Her only chance.
4. Trapped and Nowhere to Run
Vanessa’s pulse thundered in her ears. Her breath came in short, ragged bursts as her fingers pressed against the cold glass of the gas station door. The exit was locked. She tried again, rattling the handle frantically, as if sheer force could break it open. But it wouldn’t budge. Outside, the second man stood motionless just beyond the glass. His heavy jacket made his frame look even larger, his breath misting in the cold night air. He wasn’t trying to get in. He was waiting. Her stomach twisted. Behind her, footsteps echoed against the linoleum. Slow. Unhurried. The attendant. She could feel his presence looming behind her, close enough that she could hear the faint click of his tongue against his teeth. She turned just enough to see him in her peripheral vision. He was smiling again. That same too-wide grin. But now she could see something else. Something lurking behind his eyes. Vanessa’s fingers curled into fists. Her mind was screaming at her to move, to fight, to do anything – But her body wasn’t cooperating. Her legs felt numb. Cold sweat trickled down the back of her neck. Her fingers trembled against the glass, and nausea coiled in her stomach like a living thing. She was trapped.
The realization made her vision blur for a moment. The gas station wasn’t a real place anymore. It was a cage. A trap. And she had walked right into it. “You’re shakin’, sweetheart.” The attendant’s voice was soft. Almost amused. Vanessa forced herself to turn fully toward him, pressing her back against the locked door. “Why is the door locked?” she asked, proud that her voice didn’t break. The man tilted his head, mock confusion flickering across his face. “Locked? You sure?” She yanked at the handle again. It barely moved. His smile widened. “Must be stuck. Happens sometimes.” Her
heart pounded harder. She turned back toward the second man still standing outside, watching. She wasn’t sure which of them scared her more. Vanessa swallowed hard, forcing herself to breathe. Think. Think. She had to play this carefully. If she panicked, she’d lose. She let her hands drop away from the handle, exhaling shakily. She needed to pretend she wasn’t scared. Pretend she wasn’t about to collapse from the pure, bone-deep dread slithering through her veins. Instead, she forced a tight smile. “Can you unlock it for me?” she asked, keeping her voice light. “I really need to go.” The attendant’s expression didn’t change. But something in his eyes did. “Oh, don’t rush off just yet,” he said, leaning casually against the counter. “Why don’t you take a minute? Looks like you’re about to pass out.” Her stomach twisted. He knew. He knew she was on the verge of breaking down. And he was enjoying it. Her brain scrambled for options. If she lunged for the door again, would she have enough time to break it open? No. Too risky. If she screamed, would anyone hear her? No. No one else was out here. The only way out was to play along. At least for now.
Vanessa forced her feet to move, backing away from the door slowly. Act natural. “Fine,” she muttered, pretending to relax her shoulders. “I guess I could use some water.” The attendant chuckled. “There ya go.” Her legs felt unsteady as she walked toward one of the coolers, her movements deliberately slow. Her skin crawled as she turned her back to him. But she needed a second to think. Her eyes flicked toward the glass. The bottled water inside was old and cloudy. But that wasn’t what caught her attention. It was the reflection. She could see the attendant behind her. And the second man had moved closer.
Vanessa’s heart skipped a beat. He was just outside the door now. His gloved hands were resting against the glass, his head tilted as he watched her through the reflection. Vanessa grabbed a bottle, forcing herself to stay calm. She turned, twisting the cap open with fingers that didn’t stop shaking. The attendant was still watching her, his smile never faltering. “Better?” he asked. She took a small sip. Nodded. “Yeah. Better.” Her fingers tightened around the bottle. It was the only thing she could use as a weapon. She just needed a chance. The bell above the door jingled. Vanessa’s stomach dropped. The second man was inside now.
He smelled like gasoline and earth. Her throat tightened as he stepped past her, walking toward the attendant without a word. Her legs tensed. She was closer to the exit now. If she ran, would she make it? The attendant leaned on the counter, crossing his arms. “She’s real nervous,” he mused. The second man turned slowly toward her. He didn’t speak. Just stared. Vanessa’s heartbeat thundered. She gripped the water bottle tighter, forcing a small, nervous laugh. “Well, you guys locked the door on me,” she said, pretending to be annoyed instead of terrified. The second man’s mouth twitched. “We didn’t lock nothin’,” the attendant said smoothly.
Vanessa’s mind spun. They were messing with her. Toying with her, like a cat watching a wounded mouse try to limp away. Her body was going to betray her soon. Her breath was too fast, her hands too cold. She had to act. Now. Her eyes flicked toward the counter. A metal lighter sat beside the register. It was small, dented, and old. But if she could grab it… She knew what she had to do. Vanessa took
another small sip of water. Then, without warning, she threw the bottle directly at the second man’s face. The impact was enough to make him flinch. It was all she needed. She lunged for the counter, grabbing the lighter before the attendant could react. Her other hand snatched a nearby can of lighter fluid. She took a step back, flicking the lighter open.
A small flame bloomed to life. The second man’s expression darkened. “You don’t wanna do that,” he said slowly. Vanessa’s chest heaved. “I swear to God,” she hissed, “I will burn this place down.” The attendant’s grin finally disappeared. Silence. Then—He took a step forward. So did the second man. Vanessa’s grip tightened on the lighter. She had seconds before they reached her. Seconds before she lost her only chance. Her legs coiled beneath her. And then—She ran.
5. The First Escape Attempt
Vanessa’s pulse roared in her ears. The flame from the lighter flickered unsteadily in her trembling hand, its orange glow casting twisted shadows against the cracked linoleum floor. The can of lighter fluid felt slick in her grip, her fingers damp with sweat. The two men—the attendant and the silent one in the jacket—stood in front of her, their expressions unreadable. Then, the attendant’s grin slowly returned. “You sure you wanna do that?” he asked, voice light. Almost amused. Vanessa’s throat felt tight. She had no choice. “Back. Off.” Her voice wavered, but there was steel underneath the fear. The second man’s fingers curled into fists. Her stomach tightened. She knew what was about to happen. She had seconds before they lunged. And then they did.
Vanessa reacted first. She hurled the lighter at the shelves behind them and twisted the cap on the lighter fluid. Flames erupted instantly, licking up the shelves of old plastic wrapped snacks and faded magazines. The fire spread fast, too fast, crawling up the walls, smoke curling toward the flickering ceiling lights. The attendant let out a curse, jerking backward. Vanessa didn’t wait. She turned and ran. Her feet pounded against the tile, her legs burning with adrenaline. The exit was still locked—but there had to be another way out. She bolted toward the staff-only door. Behind her, she heard the attendant shouting. “Don’t let her out!” The second man was right behind her.
Vanessa slammed into the door, wrenching at the handle. Locked. “Come on, come on,” she gasped. The second man lunged. She ducked at the last second, his fingers grazing the back of her jacket. Vanessa threw her full weight against the door again. Something behind it cracked—and suddenly, it burst open. She stumbled inside the storage Room. The room was dark and claustrophobic, lit only by the dim emergency exit sign overhead. Old cardboard boxes were stacked against the walls, filled with rotting supplies and dust-covered junk. A rusted metal shelf leaned to one side, its contents spilling onto the concrete floor. Vanessa’s breath came in ragged gasps as she backed up, eyes darting around for a weapon. Her chest heaved. Her legs shook. The second man’s shadow stretched across the doorway. She had seconds before he recovered. Her eyes locked onto a heavy metal pipe near a pile of old tools. That’ll do. She lunged for it, fingers curling around the cold steel. Then- He stepped inside.
Vanessa swung the pipe with everything she had. It slammed into his shoulder with a sickening crack. The man grunted, stumbling back, but he didn’t go down. Vanessa swung again. This time, he caught the pipe mid-air. Her heart stopped. His grip tightened. Then, with terrifying strength, he ripped it from her hands and flung it across the room. It hit the ground with a loud clang. Panic surged through her. Before she could react, he grabbed her by the arm. Vanessa screamed, twisting violently, her nails digging into his skin. He didn’t flinch. His grip tightened, yanking her forward. She lashed out blindly, kicking hard, her boot connecting with his shin. The man let out a grunt, loosening his hold just enough.
Vanessa jerked free and staggered back. Her elbow hit a shelf, sending a stack of rusty tools crashing to the floor. Then—she saw it. A fire extinguisher. She grabbed it. The second man lunged again. Vanessa squeezed the handle, and a blast of white foam exploded from the nozzle. The chemical spray hit him full in the face. He stumbled back, coughing violently. Vanessa didn’t hesitate. She threw the extinguisher straight at his chest. It slammed into him, sending him toppling backward. He hit the ground hard. Vanessa spun toward the door, but she hesitated. She had to buy more time. Her eyes
flicked to the shelf. She grabbed it and shoved with all her strength. The metal shelf toppled over, crashing onto the second man’s legs, pinning him beneath its weight. He let out a muffled curse, struggling to move. She backed up toward the exit. Then—a voice behind her. “Clever girl.” Her blood ran cold. She turned slowly. The attendant stood in the doorway. Unfazed. Smiling.
The fire was growing now, thick black smoke curling toward the ceiling. Vanessa’s lungs burned, the heat licking at her skin. But the attendant? He didn’t look concerned. He wasn’t trying to escape. His smile never wavered. Vanessa’s legs tensed, preparing to run. Then he stepped aside. Gesturing toward the exit. Vanessa’s stomach twisted. No. It was too easy. A trap. She didn’t move. His smile widened. “Well?” The smoke stung her eyes. The second man was still struggling beneath the shelf. She had no choice. She ran. Vanessa raced through the open door, lungs screaming for fresh air. But the moment she stumbled into the next room, she knew she’d made a mistake. It wasn’t an exit. It
was another storage area.
The walls were lined with old filing cabinets, some of them slightly ajar. A single, flickering light bulb dangled from the ceiling. Her breath hitched. There were no windows. No way out. She spun—just as the door slammed shut. A click. The lock. Her heart dropped. She whirled back toward the door, hammering her fists against the wood. “Let me out!” she screamed. Silence. Then—the attendant’s voice. Calm. Patient. “You should’ve played along.” Vanessa’s breath came in panicked gasps. The room suddenly felt smaller. The air thicker. She whipped around, searching frantically. Then—her eyes landed on something. A vent. Small. But maybe—just maybe—big enough. She bolted toward it. Her fingers scrabbled against the rusted metal, pulling at the cover. It rattled. She could hear footsteps outside. Getting closer. She yanked harder. It gave. She shoved herself inside just as she heard the key turning in the lock. Her fingers slipped on the metal, knees scraping against the tight space. She didn’t stop. She crawled forward, toward the faint glimmer of moonlight at the other end. The door creaked open behind her. A voice—too calm. “You think you’re getting away?” Vanessa didn’t answer. She kept moving. Kept crawling toward freedom. Because she wasn’t dying in this place. Not tonight.
6. The Store is Not a Safe Haven
Vanessa’s breath came in shallow, ragged gasps as she pulled herself through the vent. Her scraped elbows burned, her legs ached from crawling through the tight metal shaft, but she didn’t stop. The distant voice of the attendant echoed behind her, muffled by the metal walls. “You think you’re getting away?” She ignored him. Kept moving. Her fingers slipped against the vent’s rough surface as she dragged herself forward, ignoring the sharp bite of metal against her palms. The grimy air smelled of dust, rust, and something rotting. Then—light. A faint glow at the far end of the vent. Her heart leapt. An exit.
She crawled faster, her knees scraping against the metal, sending dull spikes of pain up her legs. She reached the edge—pushed against the cover—and— It burst open. Vanessa tumbled out onto the floor of a darkened room. The air was stale, heavy with the scent of old paper and something faintly metallic. She coughed, pushing herself up. Her hands pressed against a thin layer of dust. She was in the back office of the store. A dead end.
Vanessa’s pulse pounded in her ears as she took in her surroundings. The dim, flickering fluorescent light overhead buzzed weakly, casting the room in sickly yellow hues. An old wooden desk sat against the far wall, covered in piles of disorganized papers. A rusted filing cabinet stood beside it; drawers slightly ajar. But what caught her eye was the small, outdated television sitting on the desk. Its screen was alive with static. Her stomach twisted. The store had been empty. There shouldn’t be a live feed.
Then—a flicker. The screen jumped. And suddenly, she was watching herself. Her own grainy reflection, captured from a CCTV camera somewhere in the store. Vanessa’s breath hitched.
The footage was in black and white, the quality grainy and distorted. The timestamp in the corner wasn’t right, it wasn’t counting time forward. It was counting backward. Her stomach plummeted. Then—movement. Not hers. Something shifted in the background of the footage. A shadow. Someone was in the store with her. Her chest tightened. She spun toward the office door, heart hammering. Silence. Vanessa took a slow, shaking breath and turned toward the walls. That’s when she saw the scratches. Dozens of them. Names, carved deep into the paint, layer over layer, some of them etched with desperate force. She took a step closer. Her fingers hovered over the names, tracing them lightly. Some were familiar. Vanessa’s breath caught. They were the same names from the missing person posters. Her blood turned to ice. She staggered back, her heartbeat a frantic drum against her ribs.
The store wasn’t just a gas station. It was a trap. And she wasn’t the first one to fall into it. Radio Transmission. A faint crackling sound broke the silence. Vanessa whipped around. The old radio on the desk had turned on by itself. Static hissed from its speakers, the sound growing louder, sharper. Then—a voice. Faint. Distorted. “If you can hear this… you need to leave… now.” Vanessa’s skin prickled. The voice was urgent, almost pleading. “They know you’re here. The station— it’s not—it’s not real. It doesn’t exist. It—” A sudden burst of static cut the voice off. Then silence.
Vanessa stood there, frozen. Her mind raced. What did they mean—”The station doesn’t exist?” A chill crawled up her spine. She needed to get out. Now. A soft click broke the silence. Vanessa spun toward the doorway. The attendant was standing there. Still grinning. But this time, there was something different. His eyes were darker, his expression… less human. Vanessa’s stomach churned. “What—what is this place?” she demanded, forcing her voice to stay steady.
The attendant’s smile didn’t falter. “Oh, you figured it out faster than the others,” he mused, stepping closer. Too close. Vanessa inched backward, her shoulder brushing against the desk. “You think this is just a gas station?” His voice was soft. Mocking. Vanessa’s breath came shakily. The attendant tilted his head. “This place… it’s a door.” Vanessa’s skin crawled. A door? “To what?” she whispered. The lights flickered violently. The CCTV screen glitched, the footage warping. The attendant’s grin stretched wider. “Let me show you.” Then—he moved. The Escape Begins Vanessa didn’t hesitate. She
grabbed the nearest object—a heavy paperweight, from the desk—and hurled it. It slammed into the attendant’s face. He staggered back, hissing. Vanessa bolted past him.
Her feet pounded against the floor, her lungs burning. She had to get out—before the store swallowed her whole.
7. A Fight for Survival
The moment Vanessa sprinted past the grinning attendant, she knew she had seconds before he recovered. Her lungs burned as she darted through the dimly lit aisles of the gas station, knocking over shelves behind her, sending bags of expired chips and dust covered candy bars spilling onto the floor. It wouldn’t stop him. Nothing would. Not unless she made it out first. Behind her, she heard the thunderous stomp of heavy boots, the rustling of movement as the attendant and the second man gave chase. Vanessa’s heart slammed against her ribs.
Her hands were slick with sweat as she reached for something—anything—that could slow them down. Her fingers curled around a glass jar of pickles from one of the shelves. Without thinking, she hurled it over her shoulder. CRASH. The jar exploded against the floor, the glass shattering, pickle juice splashing across the aisle. A grunt. A stumble. The second man slipped, his heavy boots sliding against the wet floor.
Vanessa didn’t wait to see if he recovered. She ran faster. She spotted the fire extinguisher near the counter—her only weapon. Vanessa lunged for it, yanking it off the wall. Just in time. The attendant was nearly on her. She turned and squeezed the trigger. A blast of thick, white foam exploded from the nozzle, engulfing the air between them. The attendant jerked back, cursing as the cloud of chemicals blinded him. Vanessa kept spraying, stepping back toward the exit, her arms shaking from the effort. Then—the extinguisher sputtered. The blast weakened. It was running out. “No, no, no—” She shook it desperately, squeezing the trigger again, but only a weak spray of foam dribbled out. The attendant wiped his eyes, his grin returning. “Out of juice?” he taunted. Vanessa’s stomach twisted. She hurled the empty extinguisher at his chest. He barely flinched. She turned—and ran. Her mind raced. Think, think, think! She needed something else. Her eyes flicked toward the counter. The cash register drawer was open. And inside—keys. Vanessa’s breath hitched. Keys to what? She didn’t have time
to find out. She lunged, fingers snatching the metal keyring.
The attendant realized what she was doing. “Oh, I don’t think so.” He lunged for her wrist. Vanessa twisted violently, kicking back with all the force she could muster. Her boot connected with his shin. The attendant let out a sharp grunt. It wasn’t enough to stop him. But it was enough to make him loosen his grip for half a second. And half a second was all she needed.
Vanessa bolted for the storage room. Locking Him In. She sprinted through the open storage room door, skidding against the concrete floor. She turned—and slammed the door shut. Her fingers fumbled with the key, her vision blurring from panic. The attendant slammed into the other side. The door shook violently. Vanessa’s breath came in ragged gasps as she shoved the key into the lock. Twist. Click. Locked. A barrage of fists pounded against the door. Vanessa staggered back, chest heaving. It wouldn’t hold forever. She whipped around. There had to be another way out. Then—a shadow. Vanessa’s stomach dropped. The second man was still in the store. He stood near the front entrance, his body partially obscured by the flickering lights. He was blocking the exit. Her pulse spiked. Her legs screamed for her to run. But she had nowhere left to go. The second man tilted his head. “You shouldn’t have come here,” he murmured. Vanessa’s fingers curled into fists. Her body ached, her lungs burned, but she wasn’t going to die here. Not tonight.
Her eyes flicked toward the tool rack near the counter. A box cutter. Vanessa lunged for it. The second man moved too. She snatched the box cutter off the rack and flicked the blade out just as he grabbed for her. Vanessa slashed wildly. The blade sliced across his arm. He jerked back, letting out a pained hiss. Vanessa didn’t hesitate. She drove the blade forward again, aiming for his shoulder. It hit its mark. The second man let out a choked grunt, staggering back. Vanessa wrenched the blade free, breathing hard. This was her chance. She turned and sprinted for the front door. She slammed into the glass door, rattling the frame. Still locked. Her hands scrambled for the keyring she had stolen. She jammed a random key into the lock. Twist— Wrong one. She tried another— Behind her, she heard the attendant roaring in fury, banging against the locked storage door. He was breaking free. Her fingers fumbled. Another key—twist— Click. The lock gave. Vanessa shoved the door open, stumbling into the cold night air. She didn’t stop running
8. The Final Escape
The cold night air hit Vanessa like a slap, burning her lungs as she stumbled out of the gas station. Her legs ached, her hands throbbed, and the gash along her arm burned like fire. But she was out. She didn’t stop running. Couldn’t. Behind her, the flames inside the gas station roared, flickering wildly through the shattered windows. Thick black smoke curled into the sky, twisting like something alive. And in the flames—she saw them. Dark, shifting figures, barely visible through the inferno. Not the men. Something else.
They stood in the fire, unmoving, watching her. Her stomach churned with nausea. No. No, no, no. This isn’t real. She forced herself to look away, sprinting toward her car. Reaching the Car – A Second Too Late. Vanessa’s car was exactly where she left it, the door still open, the keys dangling from the ignition. A fresh burst of hope surged through her. Get in. Drive. Don’t look back. She threw herself into the driver’s seat, slamming the door shut behind her. Her bloody hands fumbled with the key, twisting it hard— Click. The engine stuttered. Her breath hitched. “No. No, come on—” She turned the key again. Harder. Click. Nothing. Her pulse pounded against her ribs. They cut something. They did something to it.
The gas station groaned behind her, the fire spreading fast. A noise. Vanessa’s head snapped up. Across the lot—the attendant was standing in the flames. And he was smiling. Her breath hitched. Then, a movement to her left— The second man. He was coming for her. Vanessa’s chest tightened. She twisted the key one last time— And— The engine roared to life. She didn’t hesitate. She slammed her foot on the gas. The tires screeched, kicking up loose gravel as the car lurched forward. Vanessa’s
hands shook violently as she gripped the wheel, her pulse wild and erratic. The road ahead was pitch black, the moon hidden behind thick clouds. Her breath came in short, sharp bursts as she sped away, the gas station growing smaller in her rearview mirror. But the flames— The flames weren’t normal. They didn’t burn like regular fire. They twisted, reaching, almost as if they were trying to escape.
Vanessa forced her eyes back to the road. Get away. Just get away. She pressed harder on the gas, the speedometer climbing— Then—headlights. A pair of glowing white beams flared to life behind her. Vanessa’s stomach dropped. They were following her. Her fingers clenched around the steering wheel; her knuckles white with pressure. The car behind her—their car—was gaining speed. The headlights glared through her mirrors, growing brighter, closer, hotter. Vanessa’s throat went dry. Her car wasn’t fast enough. She couldn’t outrun them.
The road was narrow and winding, lined with endless trees. If she lost control, if she went off the road— She’d never get back. Her breath shuddered. Then—the car behind her swerved. The bright headlights jerked left, then right, creeping closer, trying to force her off the road. Vanessa’s pulse screamed. She jerked the wheel, trying to hold steady, but the car swung too hard— The tires skidded. The world tilted. And then— The car spun out of control. Everything happened too fast. The trees rushed toward her, the world blurring into a whirl of black and green. The car slammed through the guardrail, the front bumper plowing through the undergrowth. Vanessa threw up her arms, bracing for impact— BAM. The car lurched to a dead stop, smashing into a fallen log deep in the woods. For
a moment—silence. Then—pain. A deep, pulsing ache radiated through Vanessa’s skull. She blinked, her vision spotted and swimming. Her breath came in short, ragged gasps as she tried to orient herself. She was alive. She was still here. But she wasn’t safe. Not yet. She tried to move—pain flared through her ribs. Broken? Bruised? She didn’t know. Didn’t have time to care. Because in the distance— The headlights of the other car were still shining through the trees.
They were coming. No More Running. Vanessa forced herself upright, choking on pain as she undid her seatbelt. Her hands shook violently as she reached for the door handle. She shoved it open, stumbling out into the damp earth, her breath coming in short, panicked gasps. Her body screamed in protest, her injuries flaring hot and sharp. But she couldn’t stop. The other car’s engine rumbled closer, the crunch of tires against gravel echoing through the trees. Vanessa swayed on her feet, her body aching, her vision blurry. She needed a weapon. Something. Anything. Her eyes darted wildly. Then—she saw it. A large, jagged rock, partially buried in the dirt near her feet. Her fingers closed around it. Heavy. Solid. The headlights grew closer. The car slowed. They were hunting her now. Vanessa tightened her grip. No more running. She wasn’t dying tonight. The second man stepped out first. His massive frame was silhouetted against the car’s high beams, his jacket coated in soot and dirt. The attendant followed. His clothes were singed, his grin still sharp and eerie. “You gave us quite the chase,” he mused. Vanessa said nothing. She adjusted her grip on the rock. The attendant took a slow, deliberate step forward. “You know,” he continued, “it’s always more fun when they fight back.” The second man cracked his knuckles. Vanessa’s heartbeat slowed. Not from fear—from focus. From the deep, unwavering decision burning inside her. She wasn’t going to die. Not here. Not by them. She squared her stance. And when they lunged—she was ready.
9. The Aftermath
Vanessa’s hands shook violently as she gripped the steering wheel, the pain from her bruised ribs making each breath feel shallow and sharp. The world outside the windshield was a blur of blue and red, police lights flashing in the darkness, illuminating the gravel parking lot of a small-town police station. She had driven straight here. Straight to safety. But even now, sitting in the harsh fluorescent glow of the station’s intake area, she didn’t feel safe. Her body was here. But her mind was still back there, at that nightmare of a gas station, with its flickering lights and impossible shadows. Someone cleared their throat. Vanessa blinked, pulling herself back to the present.
Across from her, a middle-aged police officer sat, a cup of coffee steaming on the desk beside him. His uniform was slightly wrinkled, his badge catching the artificial light as he studied her with an expression that was more skeptical than concerned. “Let me get this straight,” he said, flipping through his notepad. “You’re saying you were attacked by two men at a gas station?” Vanessa nodded, her hands clenching into fists on her lap. “Yes. They—” Her voice wavered, but she pushed through it. “They chased me. Locked me inside. My car wouldn’t start. I barely got away.” The officer’s brow
furrowed. “But you’re saying the gas station was… on fire?” She swallowed, nodding. “I
set it on fire.”
He exhaled slowly, setting his pen down. “Alright.” He leaned back in his chair. “And where is this gas station?” Vanessa licked her lips, her mouth painfully dry. “It’s about twenty miles west of here,” she said, rubbing her arms as if trying to shake off the lingering chill of the night. “Just off the highway.” The officer nodded slowly. Then he said something that made Vanessa’s blood run cold. “Miss, there hasn’t been a gas station there in over twenty years.”
Silence stretched between them as Vanessa’s stomach twisted painfully. She stared at the officer, her breath coming out in uneven gasps. “That’s not possible,” she whispered. The officer sighed. “That location used to be a gas station, yes. But it burned down a long time ago.” He tapped his fingers against his desk. “What you’re describing… it doesn’t exist anymore.” Vanessa shook her head violently. “No. No, I was just there. The fire—” She stopped, feeling her throat tighten. “The men. They were real.” The officer’s gaze softened slightly, as if he was starting to wonder if she had imagined the whole thing.
Vanessa gritted her teeth. She wasn’t crazy. It happened. “I can prove it,” she said quickly. “The missing posters. The names.” The officer frowned. “What missing posters?” “In the store!” Vanessa insisted, leaning forward. “There were posters—dozens of them! People who had gone missing! You can check for yourself!” The officer’s face remained unreadable. “Alright,” he said after a moment. “We’ll look into it.” Vanessa exhaled shakily, gripping the edge of the desk. But the uneasy feeling in her gut told her that he didn’t believe her.
Half an hour later, another officer entered the small interrogation room. He carried a thin manila folder, which he dropped onto the desk in front of them. The first officer, the one questioning Vanessa, opened the file and skimmed its contents. Then—his expression changed. His brows knitted together, lips pressing into a thin line. Vanessa tensed. “What?” she demanded. “What is it?” The officer hesitated, then slowly turned the file toward her. Vanessa’s heart nearly stopped. Inside were printouts of missing persons cases, old and new, their faces eerily familiar. The same faces she had seen on the bulletin board at the gas station.
Some of the reports were decades old. Some were as recent as a few months ago. Vanessa’s throat closed up. She looked at the officers, hoping for some kind of explanation. Neither of them spoke. But they weren’t skeptical anymore. The second officer cleared his throat. “We pulled this from our archives.” He placed another document in front of her. A newspaper clipping. The headline made Vanessa’s skin crawl. Mysterious Fire Destroys Remote Gas Station – No Bodies Found. The article was dated twenty years ago. She read through it quickly, her eyes scanning every line, her pulse pounding in her ears.
The gas station had been shut down before the fire even happened. Local authorities had never determined the cause. No bodies were ever recovered—but multiple people had gone missing near that area. Investigators at the time had theorized it was used for illegal activity. Vanessa’s fingers dug into the paper. None of this made sense. She had been inside that gas station. Tonight. She had fought those men. The fire had been real. Her injuries were real. Then how could it have already burned down twenty years ago? She looked back up at the officers, her voice barely above a whisper. “What is happening?” The older officer exhaled, rubbing his jaw. “That’s what we need to figure out,” he admitted.
They let her go a few hours later, after bandaging up her wounds and offering her a place to rest. She couldn’t sleep. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw flames. The shadowed figures in the fire. The attendant grinning at her from the wreckage. She pressed a hand against her forehead, trying to will the memories away. But she knew one thing for certain. This wasn’t over. And somewhere, in the darkness… they were still watching.
10. The Final Twist
Vanessa sat alone in her apartment, the dim glow of a single lamp casting faint, flickering shadows against the walls. Her fingers curled around the mug of tea in her hands, the warmth barely registering against her cold, shaking fingers. She hadn’t slept. Not really. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw it—the fire, the shadows in the flames, the grinning attendant standing amidst the wreckage. Her mind kept replaying the police officer’s words. “There hasn’t been a gas station there in over twenty years.” But she knew what she had seen. What she had survived. And yet, here she was. Safe. Alive. Or at least, that’s what she tried to tell herself.
Then—her phone buzzed. She flinched, nearly dropping her mug as she reached for it. A text message. From an unknown number. Her stomach twisted into knots as she clicked it open. YOU CAN’T LEAVE.
Vanessa’s breath hitched. Her fingers tightened around the phone, her heart hammering. She shot to her feet, nearly knocking over the table in her rush. Her apartment door was locked. The windows were closed. This—this was someone messing with her. It had to be. She swallowed hard, her throat dry as sandpaper. Her body screamed at her to ignore it. To block the number. To pretend it never happened. But she knew that wouldn’t help. Because deep down, she already knew the truth. She wasn’t free. Not yet.
That night, Vanessa sat on her couch, knees tucked up to her chest, staring at the door. She had checked it three times already. The locks were in place. The apartment was silent, but too silent. Like something was waiting. She turned on the TV, flipping through channels just to fill the room with sound. Static. Vanessa frowned, clicking to another channel. More static. Her stomach twisted as she flipped again—and again. Nothing but hissing white noise. Then—A flicker of motion. Her hand froze over the remote. The screen glitched, the static momentarily breaking apart. And for a brief, horrifying second, she saw it. The gas station. Not as it had looked when she escaped. But as it had been before. Standing, untouched, waiting. The inside was lit up, the neon “OPEN” sign glowing as if nothing had ever happened. Her blood ran ice cold. Then, on the screen— Someone stepped out from behind the
counter. The screen flickered—and she saw his face. The attendant. Smiling. Her lungs clenched. Then—the TV shut off by itself. The remote slipped from her hands, clattering onto the floor. She was not alone.
Vanessa’s body refused to move. Every nerve in her system screamed at her to run, to get out, to leave. But she couldn’t. Because she already knew—there was nowhere to run. Her phone buzzed again. With shaking hands, she picked it up. Another message. Just one word. “SOON.” Her chest constricted. Her hands trembled so violently that she almost dropped the phone. She shot to her feet, pacing, forcing herself to breathe. “This isn’t real. This isn’t real.” But then—her apartment light flickered. The shadows in the corners of the room seemed to twist and stretch, reaching for her. She clutched her
arms, forcing herself to breathe. She had to prove to herself she was still here. Still in the real world.
Vanessa stumbled to the bathroom, turning on the light. She splashed cold water on her face, gripping the edge of the sink to stop the shaking in her hands. She looked up into the mirror, her face pale, drawn, hollow. Then—she saw it. On the foggy glass of the mirror, barely visible— A smudged fingerprint. Her stomach dropped. She hadn’t touched the mirror. Hadn’t even been in here since she got home. Then—another fingerprint appeared. Right beside the first one. Vanessa gasped, stumbling backward. Then—the light flickered. For a fraction of a second, the room went dark. And in the mirror—she saw them. The attendant. The second man. Standing right behind her. Watching. Smiling. The light flickered back on. The room was empty. But the fingerprints remained. Her legs nearly gave out.
Vanessa slapped the light switch off, plunging the room into darkness. If she couldn’t
see them, they couldn’t be real. Right? Then— From somewhere inside the apartment,
in the quiet of the night— A voice. Soft. Low. Right next to her ear. “Welcome back.” Vanessa screamed.