My 'in the works' novel tentatively titled: The Last Ride

Chapter One

Gus waited in the stillness of the driver’s seat, the engine’s low hum the only sound against the silence of the suburban street. The evening air was settling into that soft, amber glow that makes the world feel a little more fragile, casting long, peaceful shadows across the uniform lawns. He stared at the house where the GPS pin rested—a small, well-kept bungalow with a porch that seemed to hold its breath in the twilight. The yard was clean and the house looked cared for, but the windows remained dark as the time for the pickup arrived. The front door finally opened and a man stepped out, pulling it shut with a quiet, final click before walking toward the curb. This was Liam, a man who carried himself with a strange, brittle tension. Despite his slight frame, he walked with a heaviness that didn't match the ordinary backpack slung over his shoulder.When Liam opened the car door and sat down, he brought the cool evening air in with him. He moved with a careful grace, clutching his backpack to his chest for a long beat before setting it down beside him on the seat. Gus caught the man's reflection in the mirror; he wasn't looking at the neighborhood or the map on the dashboard, but was looking through the world, his eyes fixed on a distant horizon in a way that made Gus pause. It was a gaze that didn't belong to a traveler, the kind of stare that made the man seem like he was already miles away from the car. Gus glanced at the GPS screen, which showed a lone dot sitting in a patch of nameless forest where the road ceased to exist, and he noted how ill-equipped the man looked for a place where the pavement ended.

"You’re sure about the drop-off point?" Gus asked, his voice low and steady as he looked back into the mirror. The man didn't look up, his fingers tracing a loose thread on the hem of his sleeve. "The map is right," he replied, his voice soft but trembling just enough for Gus to notice. "I’m camping for the night. Solo trip." Gus eased the car away from the curb, the motion so smooth it felt like they were drifting away from the world of lawns and porch lights. He looked at the clock—6:12 PM—and watched as the first few streetlights began to flicker to life like small stars against the darkening sky. He knew the area the screen was pointing to; it was a lonely stretch of woods where the trees grew thick and the silence was absolute, a place that didn't see many visitors, let alone someone heading in with nothing but an everyday bag and the clothes on his back. As they turned onto the main road, the dashboard light cast a soft blue glow over the passenger’s face, and Gus checked the mirror one more time, his hands tightening slightly on the wheel as the last of the neighborhood houses slipped away into the rearview.

The transition from the quiet residential street to the main artery of the city was a slow progression of shifting lights and increasing noise. Gus steered the car with a gentle hand, feeling every slight vibration of the road beneath the tires as they passed the familiar landmarks of everyday life—the storefronts, the families walking dogs, and the commuters staring out of bus windows. Inside the car, the silence felt heavy, broken only by the faint, rhythmic clicking of the turn signal. Gus found himself hyper-aware of the passenger's presence; he could hear the man's shallow breathing and the occasional rustle of fabric whenever he shifted his weight. "The traffic's not too bad for a Friday," Gus said, keeping his eyes on the road but tilting his head just enough to invite a response. "Usually this intersection is a nightmare this time of day. Seems like everyone’s already where they need to be."

Liam didn't answer immediately. He stared out the side window at a neon sign for a dry cleaner, the red and blue light washing over his face. "I guess we're lucky," he finally said, the words so thin they barely made it to the front seat. Gus nodded, letting the small victory of a response settle between them. He stopped at a red light, watching the countdown timer on the pedestrian signal—ten, nine, eight—and noticed how Liam’s hands were gripped tight in his lap, his knuckles pale even in the dim light of the cabin. To anyone else, it might have looked like someone who just hated city traffic, but Gus saw the way the man was looking at the pedestrians on the sidewalk. He looked at them like he was watching a movie in a language he no longer understood. Gus let the silence return, deciding not to push again until they were further from the noise, but he kept the heater on low, making sure the car stayed comfortable while the city blurred past them.