The pavement changes first. Smooth asphalt turns to patched tar, then to gravel, then to dirt that hasn't seen a state plow in twenty years. The trees lean inward. Not like a tunnel—like they're listening.
No one gets out.
Your phone shows no service. The radio picks up only one station: static with a voice underneath, repeating numbers. Or maybe names. Or maybe nothing. wrong turn m4p
You don’t take the M4P by accident. Not really. It’s not a wrong turn in the sense of missing an exit on a well-lit highway. It’s a choice —one you talk yourself into. The pavement changes first
The sedan’s door opens.
You see the third car ahead. You don’t slow down this time. You press the accelerator. The engine revs, but the speedometer doesn’t move. You’re going the same speed. Maybe slower. Not like a tunnel—like they're listening