The empty stretch of U.S. Highway 50 highway stretched endlessly before her, the darkness of the night swallowing any hint of warmth or comfort. Her fingers gripped the steering wheel with a white-knuckled intensity as she navigated the straight, narrow road through the high desert.
The only company she had was her thoughts.
“Why did I choose to travel alone at night?” she mused silently, her eyes flicking nervously to the rearview mirror.
As she slipped into a hypnotic state, she felt a sudden jolt, as her car swerved as if protesting against some unseen force. With a glance, she knew it was an issue with her right rear tire.
“Just my luck,” she muttered under her breath.
As she pulled over to the side of the road, her heart skipped a beat when she noticed a lean figure emerging from the shadows. A man stood along the roadside, his silhouette barely discernible against the dark skies.
She felt an unease as he approached her vehicle.
“Need a hand?” His voice cut through the silence like a knife.
Her mind raced, her instincts screaming to drive away, but the shredded tire prevented that. Against her better judgment, she rolled down the window, her voice trembling as she spoke.
“Um, yeah, just a tire issue. I think I can manage.”
The man’s eyes gleamed with an otherworldly light, a knowing smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
“Allow me,” he offered, his voice smooth as velvet.
As he effortlessly replaced her tire with the spare, she couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched, trapped in some twisted nightmare. With a quick thank you, she hurriedly drove away.
But no matter how fast she drove, how many miles she put between him and her, he was always there, standing along the highway, his thumb raised, requesting a ride.
“I must be more tired than I thought,” she huffed. “Either that, or I’m hallucinating.”
When she reached Virginia City, she exited her car and looked along an empty C Street. Her eyes widened in terror as she saw the man standing at the side of the road, just off the wooden boardwalk, thumb up, his dark eyes piercing into her soul.
“Going my way?” his voice came in a chilled whisper.
With a sinking feeling in her stomach, she realized the truth that she had died when her tire shredded itself, and it was none other than Charon himself, the ferryman of death, who had come to claim her soul for an eternal voyage across the river Styx.
The Old Blog in the Desert 