A road trip traverses a small town absent from public maps. While trying to leave, the traveler learns of more ghoulish plans.
Accumulating Vacation
THE best way to save money is not to spend it,” Krystian’s mother always said. So that’s how he’s earned years’ worth of vacation time. When his cherished vessel of sage advice passed away, he deviated from his norm and began a cross-country road trip to pay his respects.
Because he hasn’t spent his salary on new cars, his aging vehicle sputters and stops alongside a rural road. Unable to get a signal on his phone, he enables his flashers and leans against his trunk, awaiting a passerby. The setting sun casts long shadows, making the surrounding forest more foreboding.
Idling From the Start
Chilly wind rustles the dense trees. Krystian sits back in his car, adjusting the rear-view mirror to keep an eye on both directions. The whoosh of a vehicle awakens him from his negligent sentry. He jumps to his feet, futilely waving his hands at streaming taillights.
To stay alert, he rummages for an energy snack and caffeine. The ground begins rumbling as blinding lights pierce the darkness with gradual intensity. A rusty tow truck slowly approaches.
“Hey, thanks for stopping,” he shouts from his car, waving his hand.
The silhouette of a tall, bowlegged man with graying hair steps out, flicking a cigarette in the center of the road. Krystian approaches to explain the problem.
“My car just sputtered and stopped. Can you get it running, or tow it to a nearby town?”
The tow truck driver flashes a light on the engine, noticing a loose distributor cap. He conceals the simple fix, saying, “It looks like I need to hitch up and take you into town.”
Krystian expresses unwarranted appreciation. “Thanks so much.”
They bounce on worn-out springs before the driver asks, “What brings you to these parts?”
“I’m on my way to my mother’s funeral.” He pauses with misty eyes. “She was a good woman.”
Without empathy, the driver asks, “Got any other family?”
“No… well, actually, I have a half-brother I’ve spoken to only once every few years. Where’s this town we’re heading to?”
“Up ahead,” the driver replies.
Living in Isolation
They arrive at a service station as dim headlights illuminate an eerie sign reading, “Welcome to Cozen. Population: You.” Krystian chuckles at the wordplay.
“You’ll need to bed in for the night,” the driver says. “Ask Roxanne across the street for a room.”
Krystian checks into the hotel with outdated decor and collapses on the lumpy bed. The next morning, he descends squeaky stairs through swarming flies for breakfast.
Roxanne greets him, saying, “Morning. The dining room is through those doors. There’s nothing special, but it’s farm-to-table.”
“That sounds more than adequate.”
In a large dining room with one plate, Krystian pours a cup of coffee. Beneath the cloche are scrambled eggs with toast. Still without phone reception after dining, he asks the time from Roxanne.
“It’s near 11 o’clock,” she says, motioning her head toward an analog wall clock.
“That late? I'd better check on my repairs.”
Outside, he stretches his arms, breathing in the fresh forest air while squinting at the warm sunlight through the trees. When he reaches the dilapidated service station, his car is nowhere in sight.
He says to the attendant, “Good morning. My name’s Krystian. Is my car ready?”
The shifty-eyed young man runs his finger down the frayed logbook, responding, “I see no new entries. What kind of car is it?”
“We dropped it off last night after hours. It’s an embarrassing old Ford silver sedan.”
“Let’s take a look in the lot.” They walk around to the bare field of overgrown weeds and remnants of disassembled vehicles. The clerk remarks, “Like I said, there’s nothing new here.”
“This can’t be happening!” Krystian grasps his head while pacing. “Did somebody steal my car from the lot?”
“This here’s a neighborly town, but you can file a complaint with the sheriff down yonder.”
Their eyes focus on a small wood-frame building. Inside, a beige-uniformed officer pours himself a cup of steaming coffee. Krystian clears his throat for attention while breathing in years of tobacco and dust. The sheriff slowly turns, face obscured in shadow. As he pauses in the sunlight, it’s the same man who towed his car.
With a smile of relief, Krystian says, “It’s good to see you. Where’s my car?”
“It popped up in the system with outstanding tickets, so it was impounded.”
“That’s impossible. I have no traffic tickets.”
“It’s out of my hands,” the unreasonable sheriff replies.
With trembling frustration, Krystian demands, “Look, you can’t take my car. I’ll pay the fee.”
“It’s too late. Your car isn’t in town anymore.”
Krystian becomes indignant, slapping his hand on the counter, “You need to find a way to get it back or… or give me a phone. I need to call someone.”
“Getting hostile, are we?” The sheriff grabs Krystian’s arm, leading him to a cold cell where he shoves him cowering onto a cot.
“No. Wait! What are you doing?” Krystian protests.
“Chill out until you get your manners back.”
The Debt Accumulation
Hours pass in the dimly lit cell before the sheriff returns, unlocking the door, as long-tailed creatures scurry across the floor. “I suggest you go to the hotel and mind your manners.”
Krystian sits in his room, idle, copious perspiration soaking his terror. Later, in the pitch darkness, a distant portentous howl sounds more human than animal. The next morning, eggs and meat are beneath the cloche. With his cash drying up, he returns to the sheriff’s office to kindly request his car and flee this nightmare.
“Good morning, Sir. I very much appreciate your hospitality. May I please pay my impound fees and be on my way?”
In response, the sheriff asks, “How much cash you got?”
“Just this, but I have credit cards.”
A desk drawer opens to insert the money as the sheriff motions his head toward a “Cash only” sign. “You can work off what you owe by cleaning the hotel and fetching eggs.”
Broken windows with dried blood stains shock Krystian into compliance. Later, the muffled voices of Roxanne with the sheriff in a room down the hallway is a dark moment to survey the town’s perimeters. His discovery of the gallows behind the sheriff’s office increases the desperation for escape.
Krystian wonders where the fresh meat comes from without any farm animals. So he asks Roxanne, the sheriff’s wife. Without details, she suspiciously responds, “Everything is farm to table.”
After weeks of scraping crud from windows, his heart races faster than the engine when he receives a key to the tow truck. On the road, Krystian drives as far and fast as possible to get away. At sunset, the headlights shine on the familiar Cozen welcome sign.
A Familial Face
Months later, in the tow truck, his headlights illuminate a stranded vehicle. Krystian’s dejection turns to elation as he recognizes his half-brother.
“Jesse?” Krystian rolls down the window, shouting. “It’s me!”
His brother looks bewildered but relieved. “Chris! What are you doing driving a tow truck… way out here?”
“It’s a long story. Just get in.”
As the estranged siblings drive back to Cozen, Krystian explains the nightmare he’s living. It’s the most they’ve said to each other in three years. Jesse listens in stunned silence.
With a wavering voice, Jesse asks, “Why can’t you just leave?”
Krystian ominously replies, “This place… it’s like a trap. Every road leads back here.”
Jesse clarifies that their crossing paths was no rescue attempt. As the executor of their mother’s will, he was surveying property left to them in the trust.
Calendar pages fill a wastebasket as the brothers seek ways out. Their work at the hotel and driving the truck can never ransom their mounting debt. Numb to the consequences, the siblings become conscripted accomplices in the mysterious disappearances of stranded travelers.
One evening with howling coyotes, Jesse approaches the crackling bonfire light and staccato chopping to gather firewood. However, his ghastly discovery reveals the source of fresh meat and missing visitors. What remains a secret from Krystian sends Jesse retching in the foliage.
His cynicism now irrevocably contrasts with Krystian’s hopefulness of eventually escaping their deceptive inheritance. Will the brothers outlive the sheriff, or have they found a new lot in life?
The End
Return twice weekly for miniseries. Use of this material for generative training or republication in any format without authorization is prohibited. Any relation to actual persons or events is coincidental. Login provides the most immersive experience. About 1400 total words. Educational review questions are available for ClinicalNovellas Scholar members.
