'In the works' novel tentatively titled: Last Ride

Chapter One

Gus waited in the driver’s seat, the engine’s low hum the only thing cutting through 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 to 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 rear 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. Liam wasn't checking the neighborhood or the map on the dashboard; he 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 grid simply dissolved, and he noted how ill-equipped the man looked for a place where the pavement ended.

"You sure about the drop-off point?" Gus asked, his voice low and steady as he looked back into the mirror. Liam 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 actually camping for the night. Solo trip." Gus eased the car away from the curb. He looked at the clock—6:12 PM—and watched as the first few streetlights began to flicker to life. He knew the area the screen was pointing to: a lonely stretch of woods where the trees grew thick, a place that didn't see many visitors. 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 as they passed the familiar landmarks of everyday life—the storefronts, 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. "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. I guess everybody’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 the rigid, unyielding line of Liam’s shoulders, a posture that looked less like a passenger and more like a man braced for an impact. To anyone else, it might have looked like someone who just hated city traffic, but Gus saw the way the man’s eyes tracked the pedestrians on the sidewalk, his focus fixed and unblinking. 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.

The stop-and-go rhythm of the city eventually smoothed into a steady, uninterrupted roll as the buildings faded from the road. One by one, the brightly lit gas stations and fast-food signs receded, replaced by the jagged silhouettes of pines crowding the shoulder. The temperature in the cabin seemed to drop as the concrete gave way to dark asphalt, the tires taking on a low, coarse grit against the rougher road. The blue light from the dashboard intensified, turning the interior into a cool, isolated chamber. Gus watched the cellular bars on the GPS stutter and then vanish, leaving only the glowing arrow pointing toward the unmapped dark ahead. He adjusted the rearview mirror, not to check the road, but to anchor himself to the man in the back. The routine of the drive was gone, replaced by a cold clarity he hadn’t felt in years. The city was a smear of orange on the horizon now, a distant memory of a world that no longer mattered, and Gus settled deeper into his seat, bracing for the long stretch of silence that lay between them and the end of the road.

Chapter Two

The high beams reached into the dark, catching the empty stretch of pavement and the grey trunks of the pines lining the shoulder. There was no oncoming traffic, no glow of a distant town on the horizon, just the steady, rhythmic strobe of the white lines being pulled under the front of the car. The forest was a constant, impenetrable wall. Without the city's haze, the stars looked sharper and colder, staring down at the car as it moved through the dark.

"You ever get tired of the quiet?" Liam asked.

He wasn't looking at Gus. He was watching his own reflection in the window, his face ghosted against the passing trees. Gus waited until they cleared a long, sweeping curve before checking the mirror.

"It's the only part of the job I actually like," Gus said. "People usually have run out of things to say to everyone else. They talk because they're afraid of what happens if they stop."

Liam finally turned his head. The light from the gauges hit his eyes, but they remained fixed and flat. "You're not like the others, then. You don't even care where I'm going, do you?"

Gus kept his eyes on the pavement. "I know exactly where you're going.”

The car moved along the dark surface for a long time before Gus spoke again. The only sound was the rush of the wind outside. Liam didn't respond. He just sat back, his hands resting motionless in his lap.

"You're not one of the talkers," Gus said.

Liam didn't look up. "Not tonight."

Liam kept his eyes on the mirror, his expression tight and unreadable. "I'm just ready to be there."

"Being there is the easy part," Gus said, his voice steady.

Liam looked back at the dark trees passing by. "How much further?

"Another few minutes if the road stays clear," Gus said. "Usually right here, you start seeing deer near the shoulder. They like the salt on the pavement. This car is quiet enough that we can get right up on them before they move."

Liam watched the edge of the road, looking for eyes in the brush. "Where do they go?"

Gus didn't take his eyes off the next curve. "The deer?"

"Yeah. Where do they go when the lights hit them?"

"They freeze," Gus said. "Then they disappear into the brush until the lights are gone."

Liam scanned the wall of pines, his eyes darting between the shadows. He looked away from the darkness and saw the soft glow of the navigation screen. "Even the GPS looks lonely out here," Liam said. "You don't listen to anything? Radio? A podcast?"

“I like to hear what the car is doing,” Gus said.

“Doesn’t that get old?” Liam asked.

“It’s better than the news,” Gus replied.

Liam let out a short, dry breath that wasn't quite a laugh. He leaned back into the shadows of the seat, his eyes following the blue arrow as it crawled across the screen. "I guess you're right about that."

Gus reached over and adjusted the fan speed, the air clicking down to a lower, steadier breeze. "You didn't ask about the cell service," Gus said.

"I didn't think there'd be any,” Liam said.

"There isn't," Gus said. "Usually, that’s the first thing people check. They start holding their phones up to the glass.”

Liam didn’t flinch. He didn't even look at the phone. He just kept his eyes on the road ahead, his posture stiff against the seat.

"I have to ask," Gus said, keeping his voice casual. "You’re camping by yourself for the night?"

Liam finally looked over. "I am."

"I’m not seeing a lot of gear," Gus said. "Usually when I drop someone this far up, they’ve got a frame pack and a sleeping bag. You’re traveling light for a night in the woods."

Liam looked down at his lap, then back at the window. "I don't need much."

"It's just an observation," Gus said. "Most people I bring up here look like they’re moving in for a month.”

"Maybe they're planning on staying a while," Liam said.

Gus didn't look away from the pavement. "Staying is one thing. Surviving is another."

The tires crunched over a final patch of dead needles and came to a rest. Gus didn't kill the lights. He let the high beams bleed into the thicket, turning the world outside the glass into a jagged mess of white light and long, distorted shadows.

"The map ends here," Gus said. "I need to know when I'm coming back for you.”

Liam gripped the door handle. "I didn't ask for a return trip."

Gus finally turned in his seat, his face half-hidden in the shadows. "I don't do one-way drops in this area. When can I pick you up?”

Liam was silent.

“Do I come back at sunrise, or am I turning this car around now?"

Liam remained still.

“Can I ask your name?” Gus asked.

Liam told him his name.

“Liam, what if I were to tell you that not only do I know what you’re doing out here, but that I’ve been in the same seat you are?”

“You don’t know what I’m doing,” Liam said.

“You’re wound pretty tight, Liam,” Gus said.

Liam couldn’t think of words to say.

Gus didn't blink. He just sat there, his silhouette heavy against the faint glow of the dash. "I’m not leaving here, Liam, until you give me a time.”

Liam reached for the door handle, his fingers catching the cold metal. He pulled, but the lock held. He didn't look at Gus. He just stared at the dark glass of the window, his chest heaving as he tried to find a reason—any reason—to get out.

"It's locked, Liam," Gus said quietly. "And even if it wasn't, where would you go?"

Liam’s hand dropped from the handle. The fight left his shoulders all at once.

"I'm just going for a walk," Liam said. It was a weak lie, and it hung in the air like smoke.

"A walk," Gus repeated. He leaned back, the leather of his seat creaking. "Without a light. Without a tent. Heading toward a ridge that doesn't have a trail on the other side. That's a one-way walk, Liam.”

Liam stared at his own reflection in the glass. He looked small. He looked like a ghost already. He tried to find a comeback, something sharp and cold to shut Gus down, but his mind was a blank slate of static. He was at a total loss.

"I don't need a ride back," Liam whispered. His voice was thin, cracking under the weight of the silence.

"Everybody needs a ride back," Gus said.

Gus reached over and finally killed the headlights. The world outside vanished instantly, leaving them in a dark so thick it felt like the car had been buried alive. In the new silence, the engine began to tick, a rhythmic cooling of metal that sounded like a clock in the deep woods.

"Now," Gus said, his voice coming out of the blackness. "Are we waiting for the sun, or am I taking you home?"

Liam tried to hold it in. He pressed his lips together until they turned white, his chest hitching in the pitch-black cabin. He wanted to stay the quiet kid who could just walk into the dark and disappear, but the walls he’d built all night were finally caving in.

A jagged, broken sound escaped his throat. There was no move toward the door. Liam just stayed right where he was, his head bowed as he covered his face with both shaking hands. The first sob tore out of him, raw and heavy, shaking his entire frame. He wasn't just crying; he was letting go. Every mile they had driven and every lie he’d told caught up to him at once.

His shoulders continued to tremble violently under his jacket. There was no stopping it now. The silence of the woods outside made the noise in the cabin feel twice as loud.

Gus didn't move. He didn't reach out, and he didn't offer any empty comforts. He just sat there in the dark, letting the storm happen.

"I can't," Liam choked out, his voice wet and distorted. "I just... I can't do it."

Gus waited until the worst of the shaking subsided. He stayed as still as the shadows. "The world is still going to be here tomorrow, Liam. No matter what you planned for tonight."

Liam didn't look up. He just kept his face buried in his hands, the heat of the tears soaking into his palms. The act was over. There was no more posturing, just a man in a car at the end of a road who had run out of places to go.