The Fifth Passenger

Part-2 The Wrong Turn

Ravi drove carefully through the rain. The wipers moved fast, but the water kept coming, again and again, like the sky itself was angry. Nobody spoke for a long time. The only sounds were the rain hitting the roof, the engine humming, and the soft breathing of the children in the back seat.

Meena looked out of her window. The trees outside looked taller than before. Their branches bent low over the road, like they were trying to touch the car as it passed. She told herself it was just her mind playing tricks after the scare with the tire.

"How much more, Ravi?" she asked, trying to sound normal.

"Not much," Ravi said. "Maybe one more hour. Once we cross this jungle road, we will reach the highway, and then it's a straight drive to the hill town."

Meena nodded and looked back at the children. Aarav was resting his head on the window, half asleep, half awake. Riya was sitting quietly, holding her toy rabbit close to her chest, looking straight ahead at nothing.

"Riya beta, are you sleepy?" Meena asked.

Riya did not answer at first. Then, slowly, she said, "Mumma, why is it so dark outside? I don't like this road."

"We will be out of the jungle soon," Meena said, smiling at her daughter through the mirror. "Just close your eyes and rest."

Riya nodded, but she did not close her eyes. She kept looking out of the window, at the trees rushing past, at the rain falling in sheets, at the darkness that seemed to have no end.

Ten minutes passed. Then twenty. The trees did not stop. The road did not straighten. If anything, it seemed to twist more, turning left and right, going up small hills and down into small valleys, as if the jungle itself was folding around the car.

"Ravi," Meena said quietly, "didn't we cross this same tree already? The one with the broken branch, shaped like an arrow?"

Ravi frowned and looked ahead. There it was — a tall tree with a broken branch pointing sideways, exactly like the one he thought he had passed a few minutes ago.

"There are many trees like that in a jungle, Meena," he said. But his voice did not sound as sure as his words.

He checked his phone. Still no signal. He checked the car's fuel gauge. Half a tank left — enough to drive for a while, but not forever.

"Let's just keep going," he said. "We'll reach the highway soon."

But the road did not end. It only continued, turning and twisting, the same trees appearing again and again, the same broken branch shaped like an arrow passing by not once, not twice, but three times.

By the fourth time, even Ravi could not deny it. "This is strange," he whispered. "We are going in circles."

"How is that possible?" Meena asked, her voice rising with fear. "You are driving straight!"

"I don't know," Ravi said, gripping the wheel tighter. "Maybe this road loops back. Some jungle roads do that. Let me try a different turn."

At the next fork, instead of going straight as he had been doing, Ravi turned left, onto a narrower, rougher path. The car bounced over stones and mud. Branches scraped against the windows, making sharp, scratching sounds that made Riya cover her ears.

After a few minutes, the narrow path opened into a small clearing. And there, standing alone in the rain, was a small roadside shop — a dhaba, the kind found on highways, selling tea and snacks to truck drivers. A single yellow bulb hung outside, swinging slightly in the wind, throwing a weak, flickering light over the wet ground.

"Thank God," Ravi said, relief flooding his voice. "Someone is here. We can ask for directions."

He parked the car close to the shop and turned off the engine. For a moment, everyone just sat there, staring at the yellow light and the small hut with its tin roof.

"I'll go ask," Ravi said. "Meena, keep the doors locked."

"Be careful," Meena said.

Ravi stepped out into the rain again. His shoes sank slightly into the wet mud as he walked toward the shop. Through the small window, he could see a figure sitting inside — an old man, wrapped in a thick shawl, sitting very still behind a small wooden counter. A kettle was on a stove, steam rising from it, but the old man was not making tea. He was just sitting there, looking straight ahead, as if waiting for something.

"Excuse me, uncle," Ravi called out from the doorway. "We are lost. Can you tell us the way to the highway?"

The old man did not move at first. Then, slowly, he turned his head toward Ravi. His eyes were pale, almost white, like they had no color left in them.

"You should not be on this road at night," the old man said, his voice low and rough, like sand rubbing against stone.

"We took a wrong turn," Ravi explained. "Our tire also burst earlier. We just want to reach the highway. Can you help us?"

The old man stared at Ravi for a long moment. Then he pointed a thin, shaking finger toward the narrow path behind the shop.

"Go back the way you came. Do not take the left turn again. Do not stop for anyone on the road, no matter what they say. And—" he paused, his pale eyes narrowing, "—count your family. Count them every few minutes. Do not forget to count."

Ravi felt a chill run down his spine. "What do you mean, count my family?"

But the old man said nothing more. He simply turned his face away, back toward the empty wall, and became still again, like a statue.

Ravi backed out of the shop slowly, his heart pounding. He hurried back to the car through the rain and got inside, locking the door quickly behind him.

"What did he say?" Meena asked.

Ravi hesitated. He did not want to scare the children. "He said we should go back the way we came, and take the right path this time, not left."

"That's it?" Meena asked, sensing something was left unsaid.

"That's it," Ravi lied, starting the engine.

But in his mind, the old man's strange words echoed again and again: Count your family. Do not forget to count.

As Ravi reversed the car to turn around, he glanced at the shop one last time through the rearview mirror. The yellow bulb was still swinging. But the old man was no longer sitting behind the counter. The shop looked completely empty, as if no one had been there at all.

They drove back onto the main road, and this time, Ravi took the right turn instead of the left one. The road became smoother, wider, more like a proper road should be. For a few minutes, everyone felt a small wave of relief.

"See," Ravi said, trying to sound cheerful, "we're back on track."

But then Meena remembered the old man's strange warning. Without saying anything to Ravi, she quietly began to count in her head.

One — Ravi, driving. Two — me. Three — Aarav, in the back. Four — Riya, next to Aarav.

Four. That was right. Four people. She let out a small breath of relief and told herself she was being foolish, letting an old man's strange words scare her.

But a few minutes later, almost without meaning to, she counted again.

One — Ravi. Two — me. Three — Aarav. Four — Riya.

Still four. Good.

The rain slowly became lighter. The thick clouds started to break apart just slightly, letting a little moonlight through. For the first time since the tire had burst, Meena could see a little further into the darkness outside.

That is when she noticed something odd about her husband.

Ravi was driving with both hands on the wheel, his eyes fixed on the road. But every few seconds, his head would tilt slightly to one side — just a little, just enough to notice if you were watching closely — and then straighten again, like a puppet whose strings were being pulled and released.

"Ravi," Meena said carefully. "Are you feeling all right?"

"Yes, why?" Ravi answered, without turning his head.

"You seem... tired. Do you want me to drive for a while?"

"No, I'm fine," Ravi said. His voice sounded normal, but something about the way he said it felt slightly off, like a recording of his voice rather than his real voice.

Meena said nothing more. She simply turned to look out of her own window, her heart beating a little faster than before, watching the trees pass by in the darkness, wondering if the man beside her was really the same man who had kissed her goodbye that morning.

TO BE CONTINUED...