IMMORTAL DESIRES

The road had been winding through the forest for nearly an hour, and with every mile, the outside world bled away. The last gas station was long gone, buried somewhere behind miles of dark asphalt and an impenetrable wall of pine and birch. Outside, evening had turned the sky a bruised purple, the final slivers of light dying between the trunks. Inside the SUV, it was warm, smelled faintly of old coffee, and buzzed with the irritable energy of a family trapped together too long. “Dad, are we there yet?” In the rearview mirror, his daughter’s eyes caught his. He offered a small, tired grin. “Not yet, sweetheart. Close.” She groaned, letting her head thud back against the window frame. “You said that twenty minutes ago.” “She’s got a point, Mark,” his wife said, not looking up from the dull glow of her phone. He clutched the wheel with exaggerated betrayal. “Sarah. You’re supposed to back me up.” “I’m on the side of reality,” Sarah replied softly, finally locking her phone and dropping it into the cup holder. From the backseat, their son let out a snicker. Mark caught the boy trying—and failing—to cover his mouth. “Something funny back there, Leo?” “No.” His sister snapped her head toward him. “You were laughing.” “Was not.” “Were too.” “Both of you, drop it,” Sarah sighed, turning slightly in her seat. “We still have an hour. Don't start.” The twins exchanged a silent, practiced glare before retreating into their respective corners, though neither looked remotely finished. Mark chuckled, adjusting his grip on the leather wheel. “I don't know why everyone acts like I’m guessing.” Sarah raised an eyebrow. “Because last summer you were 'sure' and we ended up in a loading dock behind a Piggly Wiggly.” “That was a satellite error.” “It was three times, Mark.” “Two.” “Three.” “Fine. Three.” He reached over, wrapping his fingers around hers for a quick squeeze before returning both hands to the wheel. It was a comfortable, worn-in banter—a rhythm forged over fifteen years of marriage. Then the radio died. The gentle classic rock snapped into a wall of harsh, white noise. Mark winced, reaching for the dial. He twisted it through three presets, but the static only grew sharper, hissing like steam through the speakers. “That’s odd,” he muttered. Sarah checked her screen. “No bars out here. We must be in a valley.” Mark tapped the built-in navigation map beside the dash. The blue marker indicating their car had stopped pulsing. It was just an icon frozen on a gray line. He gave the screen a hard knock with his knuckle. Nothing. Leo leaned forward, squeezing his shoulders between the front seats. “Dad? Are we lost?” “No,” Mark said instantly. His daughter let out a sharp laugh from the corner. “You have no idea where we are, do you?” “I know exactly where we are,” Mark insisted. “Where?” He stared into the blackening stretch of trees ahead, the nav screen completely frozen. “On… the road.” The backseat exploded into laughter, and even Sarah bit her lip to keep from smiling. Gradually, the laughter died down, leaving only the dull hum of the tires against the pavement. But as the miles dragged on, the light vanished entirely. The trees seemed to crowd closer to the yellow lines, their upper branches interlocking into a tight canopy that blocked out the stars. Sarah’s eyes drifted toward the windshield, her smile fading. “Mark… is this still the main route?” Mark tapped the dead touchscreen again. “Yeah. Road hasn't split.” “You sound hesitant.” “I’m just watching the road, Sar.” His voice was calm, but his knuckles were white against the steering wheel. Down in the hollows, a pale mist began to crawl out from the roots. At first, it was just wisps tumbling over the asphalt like smoke, but within minutes, it thick slid across the glass. Mark eased his foot off the gas. The headlights cut dull, yellow tunnels into the fog, illuminating nothing beyond ten feet ahead. “Was there rain in the forecast?” Sarah asked, leaning toward the glass. “No.” “Maybe we should pull a U-turn. Wait it out at that diner near the highway.” Mark checked his side mirror. The road behind them was already gone, swallowed whole by a wall of white gray. “Visibility’s worse behind us. Let’s just push through. It’ll clear once we hit the ridge.” In the back, the silence was heavy. The twins had stopped picking at each other. His daughter stared out her side window, her fingers tightly interwoven in her lap. “Maya?” Sarah asked softly, looking back. “You okay?” Maya didn't turn around. “It’s too quiet.” “It’s just fog, honey. Dampens the sound.” “No,” Maya whispered, pressing her forehead against the cool glass. “There aren't any bugs. No birds. Nothing.” Before Sarah could answer, Maya gasped, pulling back from the window. “Dad—stop.” Mark hit the brakes, the car lurching as the tires grumbled over the rumble strip. “What? What did you see?” Maya pointed into the white void between the trees. “Someone’s standing out there.” Sarah turned instantly, squinting through the mist. “Where? Maya, it’s pitch black.” “Right there! Next to the big oak.” Her voice was thin, pitching up into panic. “They were just… standing.” Leo leaned across his sister, trying to see. “It was probably a sign post or a deer, Maya.” “It wasn't a deer!” she snapped, her chest heaving. “It was tall. It was standing on two legs.” “Okay, hey, easy,” Mark said, keeping his voice strictly measured, though a cold coil of dread tightened in his stomach. He hadn't told them, but he’d seen it too—three miles back. A split-second flash in the sweep of his high beams. A gaunt, ash-gray shape tucked against a tree trunk. Unmoving. Humanoid, but far too long in the limbs. He had forced himself to believe it was a dead birch trunk, a trick of light and fatigue. He shifted into drive and let the car roll forward at a crawl. “We’re fine. Just keep your eyes inside.” Sarah looked at him, her gaze piercing. “Mark. You saw something.” “I’m keeping us on the road, Sarah.” “That’s not an answer.” “I can’t turn around in this fog, okay?” he hissed, dropping the cool dad facade for a fraction of a second. “We keep moving.” Sarah reached across the console, laying a trembling hand on his forearm. She opened her mouth to speak, but the headlights swept around a sharp bend—and caught the center of the lane. Mark’s breath hitched. It stood directly in the middle of the asphalt. It was utterly hairless, its skin the color of wet slate and stretched so tight over its ribs that the bone structure showed like a skeleton under rubber. Its frame was impossibly thin, the shoulders hunched forward, and its arms hung so low the dark, elongated fingers brushed the yellow paint on the road. It slowly tilted its head, its neck making a dry, cracking sound that carried through the glass. “HOLD ON!” Mark screamed, slamming both feet onto the brake pedal. The ABS system roared, the tires locking and skidding across the slick pavement. The creature didn't flinch. It didn't step aside. It simply lifted a face with no nose, a gaping split for a mouth, and eyes that reflected the high beams like wet red stones. Mark yanked the wheel to the right. The front bumper clipped the entity with the sound of a heavy sack hitting concrete. The force shattered the driver’s side headlight and sent the SUV veering wildly into the ditch. The tires caught the soft earth, the chassis tilted, and then the forest went upside down. Metal shrieked. Glass exploded inward, showering the cabin in a blinding spray of crystals. Mark’s violent shout was cut short as the roof caved. Maya felt the violent wrench of her seatbelt crushing her lungs, her brother’s terrified cry cut off in the dark beside her as the car violently barrel-rolled once, twice, and slammed roof-first into a boulder. Then came the silence. When Maya awoke, the world smelled of iron, raw gasoline, and crushed pine needles. Her head felt heavy, a dull, rhythmic thudding beating behind her eyes. She tried to move her arm, but a sharp, hot blade of pain sliced through her ribs, forcing a wet gasp from her throat. The car was resting on its side. Above her, a single cracked dashboard light flickered red, casting rhythmic, bloody shadows across the wreckage. “...Mom?” The word came out as a raspy whisper, thick with dust and glass powder. Silence answered. “Mom?” she tried again, louder. Nothing. Panic, cold and sharp, flooded her veins, cutting through the shock. Maya unbuckled her belt, collapsing heavily onto the crumpled interior of the rear door. Wincing, she dragged herself forward over the shattered center console, her hands slipping on something wet. “Dad…” She reached into the dark, resting her fingers on her father’s shoulder. His body was slumped over the crushed steering wheel at an unnatural angle. “Dad, wake up. Please.” She shook him. Her hand felt warm and slick. Pulling it back into the red flicker of the dash light, she saw her palm was painted thick with bright, dark crimson. Maya’s breath caught in her throat. She leaned closer, her eyes adapting to the gloom. Her father’s neck hadn't been broken by the crash. The entire front of his throat had been torn away, leaving shredded muscle and exposed bone. His eyes were wide open, staring blankly at the ruined windshield. A silent shriek died in Maya’s throat. She backed away, her boots kicking uselessly against the twisted metal as tears blind-sided her. “Leo,” she sobbed, turning frantically toward the rear. “Leo, get up!” Her twin was still suspended in his seatbelt, his head hanging limply toward his chest. Maya pulled herself back, reaching up, grabbing his denim jacket with both hands. “Leo, please! Wake up! We have to go!” His head rolled back. The same jagged, gaping tear stretched across his throat, his shirt soaked through with blood. Maya pulled her hands back as if burned, pressing them over her mouth to choke back the hysterical wails tearing up from her chest. Dead. They were both dead. Mom. Maya scrambled toward the shattered rear windshield. The safety glass had been completely punched out. “Mom!” she choked out, dragging herself half-out of the frame into the freezing damp air. “Mom, where are you?!” A sound answered her from the fog. It was a thick, wet slurp, followed by the dull, sickening snap of cartilage being torn. Maya froze, her elbows resting on the jagged edge of the window frame. A few yards away, bathed in the dim, misty moonlight, a pale figure was crouched in the high grass beside the road. It was hunched over a motionless body. The creature’s long, needle-like fingers were dug deep into Sarah’s shoulders, pinning her to the earth. Its head was buried in her chest, snapping its jaw back and forth with frantic, starving jerks. Sarah’s fingers twitched once in the grass. The creature snarled—a low, rattling sound that vibrated through the damp dirt—and slammed her head back against the ground until she stopped moving entirely. Maya couldn't scream. Her lungs locked down, her heart hammering so hard against her fractured ribs she thought it would burst. Slowly, the creature lifted its dripping head from the feast. Blood ran down its chin, coating its gray chest. Its nostrils flared, taking long, ragged drags of the night air. Then, its neck snapped toward the wreckage. Two milky, blood-rimmed eyes locked directly onto Maya. The world shrank down to the sound of her own shallow breath. The creature didn't rush. It peeled itself up from the body, dropping onto all fours like a starved spider, its claws digging deep grooves into the mud. Its upper lip pulled back, exposing rows of thin, needle-sharp teeth stained deep red. Maya tried to drag herself backward, back into the safety of the crushed car. Her boot scraped against a loose piece of chrome. CLINK. The creature launched. It covered the distance in a single, terrifying leap, slamming into the side of the overturned SUV with the weight of a falling tree. The metal buckled. A long, gray arm punched straight through the ruined window frame, its claws sweeping violently through the air, inches from Maya’s face. Maya’s vocal cords finally snapped, a jagged, terrifying scream ripping from her throat as she scrambled backward into the pitch-black wreckage. The claws found her ankle. And the darkness pulled her under.