The highway stretched like a long, dark ribbon through the countryside, its only companions the faint glow of the moon and the occasional glimmer of distant farm lights. The Johnson family was halfway to the nearest town, traveling along this lonely road, when the hum of the engine began to sputter. Their sedan jerked, coughed, and finally rolled to a complete stop by the roadside.
Mark Johnson, the father, tried turning the ignition again, but the car only groaned in protest. The dashboard lights flickered weakly, and then went dead. Beside him, his wife, Claire, let out a sigh—half frustration, half worry. Their two children, Emily, 12, and her younger brother, Ben, 8, sat in the backseat, already restless from the long drive.
Mark popped the hood and stepped out, muttering something about the alternator. Claire followed him into the cool night air, clutching her cardigan tighter around her shoulders. The road was eerily silent—no cars had passed in the last twenty minutes, and the fields around them were dark, swallowed by the night.
“We’ll go look for help,”
Mark decided after a brief discussion.
“It’s only about two miles to that gas station we passed. Stay in the car, lock the doors, and keep the radio on. We’ll be back before you know it.”
Emily nodded, trying to look braver than she felt. Ben was too busy fiddling with the radio knobs to pay much attention. Claire leaned in through the open car door and kissed each of them on the forehead. “Stay put, and don’t open the door for anyone,” she instructed firmly. Then she shut the door with a dull thunk, and the parents began walking down the road, their silhouettes slowly shrinking into the distance until they disappeared entirely. The car felt cavernous without them, every sound amplified—the ticking of the cooling engine, the whisper of wind through the trees, the faint static from the radio. The siblings sat quietly at first, the glow from the dashboard casting their faces in pale green light.
After a few songs and commercials, the radio announcer’s tone shifted. His voice was low and urgent as he reported breaking news:
“This is an emergency alert for residents in the county. Authorities have confirmed that a dangerous individual escaped from Fairview Correctional Facility earlier this evening. The fugitive is considered extremely violent and was last seen in the vicinity of County Road 7 and the Old Mill Bridge. If you are in the area, secure your homes, remain indoors, and avoid all contact with strangers. The suspect is believed to be armed.”
Emily’s eyes darted to Ben, whose hand hovered over the volume knob.
“Don’t turn it off,”
She whispered.
“We need to hear this.”
The announcer continued, his words sending a cold weight into Emily’s chest.
“Law enforcement is conducting a search, but until the suspect is apprehended, residents are urged to stay alert. Again, if you see anyone suspicious, do not approach—call the authorities immediately.”
The broadcast faded into static before switching back to music, but the siblings’ nerves were now taut. Emily locked the doors—again—just to be sure. Outside, the darkness seemed to press closer. Minutes stretched into an hour. The moon drifted higher, silvering the edges of the clouds. Ben fell into a fidgety silence, glancing at the road where their parents had vanished. Emily tried not to let her imagination run wild, but she kept picturing them walking into some unknown danger.
The fields around them were still. The only sound was the occasional rustle of leaves when the wind shifted. Then, from somewhere above them, came a faint tap. Emily froze. She looked at Ben.
“Did you hear that?”
He nodded slowly. Another tap—louder this time, like someone drumming their fingers on metal. Her first thought was that maybe a branch had fallen onto the roof, but the road was clear of overhanging trees. Then the sound came again, in a steady rhythm: tap… tap…tap.
The tapping grew heavier, faster, turning into dull thuds. It wasn’t random. Whoever—or whatever—was making that sound was doing it deliberately. Emily’s breath caught in her throat. She could feel Ben’s small hand clutching her arm now. “What is it?” he whispered. She didn’t answer. Instead, she slowly reached for the flashlight in the glove compartment. Her fingers trembled as she clicked it on, but the beam only illuminated the car’s ceiling and the back of the front seats. Whatever was on the roof was hidden from view.
The sound shifted, thump, thump, thump—as if someone was bouncing something heavy against the metal. The vibrations traveled down through the car frame. Ben was trembling now.
“Maybe it’s Mom and Dad,”
He said weakly, though his voice lacked conviction. Emily wanted to believe that, but the rhythm of the knocks was too steady, too… playful. She swallowed hard.
“We should stay inside,” she whispered.
Then, the sound stopped. The sudden silence was worse than the noise. Emily strained her ears, listening. No wind, no footsteps, nothing. And then—BANG!—something slammed down hard on the roof, making the whole car shudder. Ben yelped. Emily felt her heartbeat hammering in her throat.
That was enough. She yanked Ben’s door open, pulled him out, and the two of them sprinted into the darkness. Gravel crunched beneath their sneakers as they ran toward the roadside ditch, away from the vehicle.
They had gone several yards before Emily’s curiosity or fear forced her to look back. Her stomach lurched. A huge man crouched on the car roof, his face obscured by shadow. In his hands, he held two round objects that caught the pale light of the moon. It took Emily a split second to realize what they were. Heads. Her parents’ heads. The man was bouncing them, almost casually, letting them thud against the metal roof with sickening familiarity—thump, thump, thump. The same sound they had heard moments ago.
Emily’s scream stuck in her throat. Her mind refused to fully register the scene, but the cold weight of horror rooted itself deep in her chest. She grabbed Ben’s hand and ran harder, forcing herself not to look back again. Behind them, the sound of the heads hitting the car roof faded into the night.
They didn’t stop until the darkness swallowed everything—the road, the car, the nightmare on the roof. Somewhere in the distance, a dog barked, and the sound of crickets filled the silence. Emily didn’t know where they were going. She didn’t care. All she knew was that their parents were gone, and something unspeakable was behind them on that empty road. And it might still be following.
