Route 13
The clock in Jack’s car blinked 12:37 AM as he took a sip of his lukewarm coffee. It had been a long day at work, and he was eager to get back to his family. The stretch of Route 13 he was currently driving on was notoriously desolate, with thick forests on either side of the asphalt road. The moon peeked through the clouds, casting eerie shadows.
Suddenly, Jack’s headlights caught the silhouette of a young woman standing on the side of the road. Dressed in a pale dress, she seemed out of place on such a remote stretch of highway. Concerned, Jack slowed his car to a halt and rolled down his window.
“Hey, are you alright?” he called out, peering into the darkness.
The woman stepped closer, revealing strikingly pale skin and raven-black hair. Her eyes, dark yet piercing, seemed to hold a thousand secrets. “Could you give me a ride? It’s not safe out here.”
Jack hesitated for a moment. Everything he’d ever been told about not picking up hitchhikers raced through his mind. But he couldn’t just leave her there. With a sigh, he unlocked the passenger door.
She settled into the seat with a grateful smile. “Thank you,” she whispered.
After a few minutes of silence, Jack asked, “Where are you headed? And what are you doing out here so late?”
She looked out the window, her reflection faintly visible in the glass. “I’m just trying to find my way home. But I’ve been lost for a long time.”
He raised an eyebrow but didn’t press the topic. The atmosphere in the car had shifted, feeling heavy with an unspoken tension.
Suddenly, she turned to him, her eyes serious. “Do you believe in premonitions, Jack?”
He stiffened, realizing he hadn’t introduced himself. “How do you know my name?”
She didn’t answer his question. Instead, she continued, “There’s a bridge about twenty miles from here. Do not cross it tonight. Take the longer route around. Trust me.”
Jack’s heart raced. This was too strange. “Who are you? Why should I listen to you?”
She took a deep breath, her gaze fixed on his. “I’m someone who’s seen the horrors of the unknown. Those who’ve heeded my warnings have been spared, but those who haven’t…” She trailed off, her expression somber.
Feeling a chill run down his spine, Jack tightened his grip on the steering wheel. The once comforting hum of the car engine now sounded foreboding. “Why are you telling me this?”
She leaned back in her seat, staring up at the moon. “Maybe it’s destiny. Maybe it’s a chance for redemption. All I know is that I have this gift—or curse—and I must share it.”
For the next few miles, they drove in silence. As the odometer ticked closer to the bridge she had mentioned, Jack wrestled with his thoughts. Part of him wanted to dismiss her warnings as the ramblings of a distressed woman, but another part couldn’t ignore the palpable sense of dread.
Suddenly, the woman’s voice broke the silence. “Remember my warning, Jack. The choice is yours.”
Without another word, she opened the car door and stepped out, disappearing into the darkness as quickly as she had appeared.
Jack sat still for a moment, his heart pounding. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he pressed on the gas, the haunting words of the mysterious hitchhiker echoing in his mind.
Route 13 stretched on endlessly, the dense forest on either side making it seem as if the world had shrunk to just the road, the trees, and Jack’s car. The woman’s words weighed heavily on his mind. He had always considered himself a rational man, yet he couldn’t shake off the feeling of impending doom.
Soon, he saw the sign indicating the upcoming bridge. He remembered the alternate route, a winding path that would add an hour to his journey. Jack’s fingers drummed on the steering wheel, indecision clouding his thoughts.
He thought about his family—his wife Sarah and their two kids—and the surprise he had planned for them the next morning. What if the woman’s warning was real? He couldn’t risk not seeing them again.
Making up his mind, Jack turned the wheel sharply, taking the longer route. As he drove down the winding path, he felt a mixture of relief and doubt. Had he made the right decision? Or had he been played by a deranged stranger?
His musings were interrupted by a sudden flash of headlights in his rearview mirror. Another car was tailing him, coming up fast. Jack’s pulse quickened. The road was narrow and twisty, making it difficult for two cars to navigate simultaneously.
The car behind him flashed its high beams aggressively. Jack tried to speed up to put some distance between them, but the car continued to close the gap.
“Come on, come on,” he muttered under his breath.
Suddenly, his phone buzzed with a call. The caller ID displayed Sarah’s name. Answering, he heard her voice, tinged with panic. “Jack! Are you okay? Where are you?”
He tried to keep his voice steady. “I’m on the old route, avoiding the bridge. Why?”
Her reply sent shivers down his spine. “There’s been a news alert. The bridge on Route 13 just collapsed. They’re saying anyone on it would have… Jack, you could have been on it!”
Jack swallowed hard, his mind racing. “Sarah, there’s another problem. There’s a car tailing me, and they’re driving aggressively. I don’t know what they want.”
He could hear the fear in Sarah’s voice. “Just get home safely, okay? I love you.”
The connection suddenly went dead, and Jack’s heart raced even faster. His focus shifted back to the road and the car behind him.
He remembered a nearby cabin, owned by an old friend. If he could make it there, he might be able to lose the tailing car and find a safe place to hide.
Turning off his headlights to mask his movements, Jack took a sharp left onto a dirt road leading to the cabin. The car behind him sped past, apparently not noticing his sudden diversion.
Letting out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, Jack drove towards the cabin, praying he’d made the right choice. The mystery of the hitchhiker and her warnings deepened, and Jack knew he was in for a night he’d never forget.
The cabin stood amidst the trees, a relic from days long past. Moss grew on its wooden walls, and the moonlight painted eerie shapes across the windows. Jack parked his car a little distance away, not wanting to make it too obvious that he had taken refuge there.
Cautiously, he approached the door and tried the handle. To his surprise, it was unlocked. The room beyond was dark, but Jack could make out old furniture covered in dust and cobwebs. He searched for candles or a flashlight and eventually stumbled upon an old kerosene lamp, which he lit.
As the dim light flickered around the room, Jack’s eyes were drawn to an old bookshelf. Upon it sat various old tomes and, oddly enough, newspaper clippings. Curiosity getting the better of him, he walked over and picked up a few.
The clippings were old, some dated back decades. All had one thing in common: they detailed mysterious disappearances and accidents on Route 13. The most recent clipping mentioned a bridge collapse, the very one he had narrowly avoided tonight.
A shiver ran down his spine as he read about people who had vanished, never to be seen again, and about travelers who’d met with tragic accidents. It became clear to him that the route was cursed in some way.
Further digging into the papers revealed handwritten notes. One note, seemingly written in haste, stood out: “She always appears before a tragedy. A harbinger. A warning. Do not ignore her.”
Jack’s mind raced. The mysterious hitchhiker was not just a random stranger; she had been appearing on Route 13 for years, always as a warning sign of an impending disaster.
Suddenly, a noise from outside broke his concentration. Footsteps. Someone was approaching the cabin. Panicking, Jack doused the lamp, plunging the room into darkness. He hid behind an old sofa, praying he wouldn’t be discovered.
The door creaked open slowly. A beam of light from a flashlight danced across the room. Jack could hear whispered voices.
“Do you think he’s here?”
“Has to be. This is the only place he could’ve gone.”
Jack’s heart pounded in his chest. Who were these people, and what did they want?
As the intruders approached the sofa, Jack mustered all his strength and lunged at them. A struggle ensued, the flashlight tumbling to the ground. In the ensuing chaos, Jack managed to overpower one of them, but the other drew a knife.
Before Jack could react, a shrill scream pierced the air. Both Jack and the assailant paused, looking around in confusion. The scream had come from outside.
Seizing the opportunity, Jack made a dash for the door. He didn’t look back until he reached his car. Jumping in, he gunned the engine and sped away from the cabin, leaving behind more questions than answers.
As the distance between the cabin and Jack increased, the memories of the evening’s terrifying events flooded back. Who were those men? Why were they after him? And what did the mysterious woman have to do with all of this?
Jack’s thoughts were interrupted by a beep from his phone. It was a text from Sarah: “Are you okay? The kids and I are worried sick. Please come home.”
He quickly typed a reply: “I’m fine. On my way. Love you.”
After what felt like hours, Jack finally reached the outskirts of the town. He decided to make a stop at the local police station to report the events. Surely they would have answers.
Walking into the station, Jack was met by Officer Daniels, a gruff, older man he had known since childhood. Seeing the distress on Jack’s face, Daniels motioned for him to take a seat.
Jack recounted everything, from picking up the mysterious hitchhiker to the cabin’s haunting revelations. Officer Daniels listened intently, his face growing grimmer with every word.
After Jack finished, Daniels took a deep breath. “Jack, I’ve been with the force for over thirty years, and I’ve heard some strange tales about Route 13, but nothing like this.”
Jack leaned forward, “Do you know who that woman is? And what about those men at the cabin?”
Daniels hesitated, then said, “There’s an old legend in this town about a girl named Eleanor who died tragically on Route 13. They say she appears to warn people of impending danger. Many brushed it off as just a ghost story, but after hearing your account, I’m not so sure.”
Jack swallowed hard. “And the men?”
Daniels frowned, “There are rumors of a group that wants to keep the legend of Eleanor a secret. They believe the tragic events on Route 13 bring attention and, in a twisted way, tourism to our town. They might think you’re a threat now, having encountered Eleanor and knowing too much.”
Jack felt a chill. “So what should I do?”
“For now, lay low,” Daniels advised. “I’ll get a couple of officers to patrol your house tonight. And first thing in the morning, we’re visiting that cabin together.”
Jack nodded, feeling a bit relieved. “Thank you, Officer.”
He left the station and drove home. The lights in his house were all on, a beacon in the dark. Sarah met him at the door, embracing him tightly. The kids, half-asleep, mumbled their relief at seeing their dad.
Jack tried to assure them everything was okay, but deep down, he knew the mystery was far from over. The ghostly figure of Eleanor, her warnings, and the shadowy group that trailed him were all pieces of a puzzle waiting to be solved.
The sun’s early rays pierced through the curtains, casting a warm glow across Jack’s bedroom. The events of the previous night felt like a surreal dream, but the police cruiser parked outside served as a stark reminder of the reality.
Sarah, sitting up in bed, looked at Jack with concern. “Do you really have to go back to that cabin?”
Jack sighed, running a hand through his tousled hair. “I have to find out what’s really going on. I can’t let our family be in danger.”
After a quick breakfast, Jack met Officer Daniels outside. The seasoned officer looked more determined than ever. “We’re going to get to the bottom of this,” he said, his grip firm on the steering wheel as they made their way back to the cabin.
Upon arriving, they found the cabin eerily quiet. The door creaked open to reveal the mess from last night’s struggle. But the newspaper clippings and notes were gone.
Daniels cursed under his breath. “Looks like someone beat us to it.”
As they searched the cabin, Jack noticed something odd about the floorboards in one corner. They appeared newer than the rest. Together, they managed to pry them up, revealing a hidden compartment below.
Inside were stacks of old photographs and letters. Jack picked up one of the photographs, feeling his breath catch in his throat. It was the mysterious hitchhiker, Eleanor. But she looked just as young as she had the previous night, even though the photograph seemed decades old.
Daniels, examining a letter, looked up with a grim expression. “Jack, this letter is from Eleanor. It’s dated 1957. She writes about fearing for her life and about some group that’s after her. She believed they were responsible for many of the accidents on Route 13.”
Jack shook his head in disbelief. “But why? What could they possibly gain from it?”
Daniels hesitated. “Power, control, maybe money. With all the accidents, the town gets more federal funding for road repairs, not to mention the tourism from thrill-seekers and ghost hunters.”
A sudden noise from outside interrupted their conversation. Footsteps, approaching fast. Jack and Daniels quickly hid, peering out of a cracked window.
A group of men, faces obscured by hats and scarves, entered the cabin. They spoke in hushed tones, rummaging through the remaining items. Their leader, a tall figure with an unmistakable aura of authority, seemed particularly interested in the hidden compartment.
Jack felt his heart pounding as he recognized one of the voices. It was one of the men from last night.
“We need to find that man,” the leader said, his voice cold. “He knows too much.”
Just as the tension seemed unbearable, a haunting melody drifted through the air—a woman’s voice, singing a sorrowful lullaby. The men froze, their faces turning pale.
Eleanor’s ghostly figure appeared at the cabin’s doorway, her eyes fixed on the intruders. With a scream of terror, they fled, leaving the cabin in disarray.
Daniels, wide-eyed, turned to Jack. “I never believed the stories… until now.”
Eleanor’s gaze met Jack’s, a silent gratitude in her eyes. With a soft sigh, she vanished.
The silence that enveloped the cabin after Eleanor’s departure was palpable. Jack and Daniels, both still processing the supernatural event they’d just witnessed, exchanged glances of disbelief.
“We need to expose these people,” Daniels said determinedly. “The town needs to know the truth about Route 13 and Eleanor.”
Jack nodded in agreement. “First, we need evidence. We can’t confront them with just stories.”
The duo decided to return to town to gather more information. They began with town records, poring over old newspapers and council meeting minutes. A pattern soon emerged—every time there was a major accident or disappearance on Route 13, a particular group of town officials and businessmen benefited. They received increased funding and saw spikes in local tourism.
More digging revealed that this group had historically owned large shares in the town’s hotels, diners, and even the local museum, which featured exhibits on the “hauntings” of Route 13.
With enough evidence gathered, Daniels called a town meeting. The community hall was packed, the buzz of whispered conversations filling the air.
As Daniels presented the evidence, gasps of shock and murmurs of disbelief spread throughout the hall. The implicated individuals shifted uncomfortably in their seats, their faces pale.
But it was Jack’s testimony that had the most impact. He recounted his harrowing experience on Route 13, his encounter with Eleanor, and the subsequent events at the cabin.
As he concluded his tale, the room was silent. Then, from the back of the hall, an elderly woman stood up. She introduced herself as Martha, Eleanor’s younger sister.
With tears in her eyes, Martha recounted the last days she’d spent with Eleanor before her mysterious disappearance. She spoke of a young woman, full of life and dreams, who had uncovered the nefarious plans of those in power.
Martha revealed a letter she had kept hidden for years, written by Eleanor. In it, Eleanor spoke of her intentions to expose the group and her fears for her safety. The letter was her insurance, in case anything happened to her.
The implicated individuals, faced with undeniable evidence and the weight of public opinion, were arrested. Investigations revealed a web of corruption and manipulation that had ensnared Route 13 for decades.
In the weeks that followed, Route 13 was overhauled with enhanced safety measures. The town erected a memorial in Eleanor’s honor at the spot where she was most often seen, paying tribute to the young woman who had tried to protect countless travelers.
Though the tales of the hitchhiking ghost became more infrequent, those who did encounter Eleanor reported a change. Instead of cryptic warnings, she now offered words of gratitude and comfort before vanishing into the night.
Jack often found himself driving down Route 13, drawn to the memorial. Every time he passed, he’d whisper a quiet “thank you” to the wind, hoping Eleanor would hear. For in her ethereal form, she had saved not only him but an entire town from the shadows of its past.
