The city glimmered with its usual chaos below, a sea of headlights and blinking billboards stretching endlessly in every direction. But up here, on the overpass, it was quiet. Too quiet.
Aaron gripped the steering wheel tighter as he drove. The yellow-white floodlights illuminated the empty highway ahead. No cars in the opposite lanes. No honking horns. Just his tires whispering against the asphalt. He glanced at the clock on the dashboard: 11:47 PM.
He hadn’t realized until now how eerie a highway could feel when you were the only one on it.
The first oddity was subtle. As Aaron drove past an overhead exit sign, the letters seemed to flicker, rearranging themselves for just a moment. His eyes darted back. It was normal again. He shook his head, blaming the long hours he’d worked. But as he continued, the highway signs started to blur into something unrecognizable, like gibberish scrawled by an unsteady hand.
That’s when the figure appeared.
At first, Aaron thought it was his reflection—something about the way the man stood, facing away, hands in his pockets, swaying slightly. But the man wasn’t in a car. He was standing on the edge of the overpass, staring down at the bustling city below.
Aaron slowed the car. A chill ran down his spine. "Is he about to jump?" he muttered to himself. He wasn’t heartless. He couldn’t just drive past.
He rolled down the passenger-side window and shouted, "Hey! Are you okay?"
The man turned slowly. Too slowly.
Aaron’s heart dropped. The man's face was blank. Not expressionless—blank. No eyes, no nose, no mouth. Just smooth, pale skin stretched over his skull.
Aaron slammed the gas pedal, his car roaring past the man. The rearview mirror didn’t show him standing there anymore. He wasn’t sure if that made it better or worse.
“Call someone,” Aaron whispered, fumbling for his phone. His thumb hovered over the screen, but the signal bar was empty. “No service? Here?” He was on an overpass in the heart of the city; this didn’t make sense.
A loud thud jolted him from his thoughts. It came from the roof. Something heavy had landed there.
Aaron’s chest tightened as he felt the weight shift. Whatever it was, it was crawling across the roof of his car. A screeching sound followed—metal being scraped.
His instinct screamed at him to get out, but his logic froze him in place. Then, the scratching stopped.
Slowly, Aaron glanced up at the rearview mirror again.
Two white hands were gripping the top edge of his rear windshield. A face—or lack thereof—peered down at him from above, its smooth head tilting unnaturally to one side.
Aaron didn’t think. He swerved hard, the car fishtailing before slamming back onto the correct lane. The figure was gone again.
The overpass stretched endlessly now, far longer than it should have. The city lights below grew dim, distant. The hum of the highway lights became a droning buzz, a mechanical hum inside his head.
That’s when he saw them.
Rows of figures lined the edges of the overpass, motionless and identical. Blank faces turned toward his car. Every one of them raised a single hand as he approached, pointing.
Aaron pressed harder on the gas. His heart raced as he blew past the figures, but the overpass didn’t end. The city below was no longer visible. Just blackness.
The dashboard clock blinked: 11:47 PM. It hadn’t changed.
In the distance, he spotted a shape blocking the road—a pile of wrecked cars. The headlights illuminated shattered glass and twisted metal. His stomach turned when he realized one of the vehicles was his own car, crumpled beyond recognition.
He slammed on the brakes, the tires screaming as the car skidded to a halt.
Aaron stepped out, trembling. The wreck was eerily quiet. He moved closer, and that’s when he saw it.
A man slumped against the driver’s seat, head hanging lifelessly. It was him.
From behind him, the sound of footsteps echoed across the overpass. Slow, deliberate.
Aaron turned around.
The blank-faced man stood there, his hand outstretched. This time, he had a mouth.
“Welcome back,” it said, in Aaron’s voice.
The overpass lights flickered and went out.
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