The Sieges

An hour passed. The temperature inside the cabin plummeted. Their breath bloomed in white clouds before them, frosting the windows from the inside.

Elias sat gripping the steering wheel, his knuckles white. Julian had stopped complaining about his leg; the cold was numbing the nerves, which was both a blessing and a terrifying warning sign.

* Tap. Tap. Tap.*

A gentle, polite knocking on the rear passenger window.

Elias flinched violently. He turned his flashlight toward the glass. Nothing but snow and darkness.

"Did you hear that?" Julian whispered.

"Wind," Elias lied.

"Hey guys," a female voice muffled through the glass. "Let me in. It’s freezing out here."

Julian gasped, struggling to sit up. "Sarah?"

Elias grabbed Julian’s shoulder, pinning him back. "That’s not Sarah."

"It sounds exactly like her," Julian argued, his eyes glassy. "She must have been in the car behind us. She needs help."

"Sarah is in Chicago, Julian! She’s a thousand miles away!"

"Open the door, Eli," the voice crooned. It shifted, the pitch dropping. "Come on, buddy. Open up. Remember the lake house?"

Now it was Mark’s voice. Their old roommate. Mark, who had died in a motorcycle accident three years ago.

Elias felt tears prick his eyes—hot, angry tears. "It knows," he whispered. "It’s digging through our heads."

The creature outside didn't scream or roar. It just cycled through a playlist of their shared history. It played back the laughter from graduation, the toasts from Julian’s promotion party—the party Elias had left early because he couldn't stand watching Julian succeed.

"Why do you hate me?" Julian asked softly. The question seemed louder than the wind outside.

Elias looked at his friend. In the pale blue light of the dashboard, Julian looked small. Broken. "I don't hate you."

"You do. You have for years. Ever since I got the VP spot." Julian coughed, a dry, rattling sound. "I didn't steal it, Eli. You stopped showing up. You pulled away. I tried to bring you with me."

Elias wanted to shout, to defend himself, but the mimicry outside cut him off.

"I’m walking to the main road!" the creature shouted again, mocking Elias’s earlier abandonment.

Elias slumped against the seat. "I wanted to leave you," he admitted, his voice cracking. "When we crashed. I thought... if I just walked away, I wouldn't have to deal with you anymore."

Julian reached out, his hand trembling, and gripped Elias’s arm. "But you came back."

* Click. Click.*

The sound of the door handle being tested.

Elias looked at the lock. The little orange tab on the driver’s side door flickered. The mechanism was freezing, the electronics glitching in the cold.

* Click.*

The lock popped up.

"It’s learning," Elias said, the realization hitting him with the force of a hammer. "It’s not just copying sounds. It’s figuring out how the door works."

He slammed the lock back down, but it popped up again a second later. The central locking system was failing.

"We can't stay here," Elias said. He looked at Julian’s mangled leg. "We have to run."

"I can't run, Eli."

"I know." Elias unbuckled his seatbelt. He looked at his friend, really looked at him, for the first time in years. The jealousy was still there, a dull ache, but the fear was stronger. "I’m not leaving you this time."