Dead Air

The silence was the loudest thing Elias had ever heard.

It wasn't a peaceful silence. It was the ringing, metallic absence of sound that follows a catastrophic collision. The luxury SUV—Julian’s, of course—was nose-down in a ditch, the front grill crumpled like wet paper against a hidden boulder. The airbags had deployed, filling the cabin with the acrid stench of talcum powder and burnt chemicals.

"You idiot," Elias hissed, smacking the deflated white bag away from his face. "You absolute idiot."

In the passenger seat, Julian groaned. It was a wet, guttural sound. His face was pale, illuminated only by the flickering dashboard lights which cast erratic shadows against the windshield. "My leg," Julian gasped. "Eli, I think… I think it’s snapped."

Elias looked down. Julian’s right leg was pinned at an unnatural angle beneath the crushed glove compartment.

"I told you not to touch the GPS," Elias snapped, unbuckling his seatbelt with shaking hands. "I told you I had it under control. But you always have to steer, don’t you? Even when you’re not driving."

"I was just… checking the ETA," Julian wheezed, sweat beading on his forehead despite the rapidly dropping temperature.

Elias shoved his door open. The wind hit him like a physical blow, carrying biting ice crystals that stung his cheeks. He stepped out into the knee-deep snow, the cold instantly soaking through his dress shoes. They were on a service road, a "shortcut" the navigation system had suggested before the signal died. There were no streetlights. Just the oppressive wall of pine trees and the swirling white void of the blizzard.

He pulled his phone out. No bars. "Dead zone," he muttered. "Perfect."

He looked back at the car. The engine had stalled. The heater was dead. Julian was useless.

"I’m walking to the main road," Elias shouted over the wind. "I saw a sign for a gas station a few miles back."

"Don't leave me," Julian called out, his voice thin and panicked. "Eli, please."

"You’re dead weight right now," Elias yelled back, anger warming him more than his coat. "I’ll get help. Stay there."

Elias turned his back on the wreck and began to trudge up the embankment. He made it twenty yards before he heard it.

"Hey! Over here!"

Elias froze. The voice had come from the woods to his left. It was loud, clear, and projected with confident authority.

"Hey! I found a path!"

Elias spun around, squinting into the dark treeline. "Hello? Is someone there?"

"I’m walking to the main road!" the voice shouted back.

Elias felt the blood drain from his face. The intonation, the specific cadence, the pitch—it wasn't a stranger’s voice. It was his own. It was a perfect recording of what he had shouted ten seconds ago.

"Who’s out there?" Elias screamed, his bravado crumbling.

From deeper in the woods, a different voice answered. "Don't leave me. Eli, please."

It was Julian’s voice. But it wasn't coming from the car. It was coming from the darkness between the trees, overlaid with a strange, wet clicking sound.

Elias didn't think. He didn't investigate. He scrambled back down the embankment, slipping on the ice, and threw himself back into the driver’s seat of the SUV. He slammed the door and locked it.

"What?" Julian asked, his eyes wide with pain. "What is it?"

"Quiet," Elias whispered, staring out the window into the swirling snow. "Something’s out there."