EDGE Read Free

across a car totally flipped over onto its roof. There were black skid marks on the road, and the car was totally smashed up. Steam was rising up from the radiator and black oil was pooling on the road like blood. The smashed-up, upside-down window on the driver’s side was half open, and a man’s arm dangled limply out of the window. The hand was clenching a crushed Coke can, and it swayed gently back and forth, as if beckoning to my friend’s dad
.
    There were a number of variations, and Hans had read similar stories in a number of books. Families of ghosts wandering the highways …
    The sight Hans beheld now was different. Everything about the Pontiac suggested that it had held passengers just moments earlier. But somehow, they had vanished from sight, as if swallowed up by the desert. In fact, it brought to Hans’ mind the image of a ghost ship at sea.
    On the one hand you had the vast ocean, on the other, a North American desert. The setting was different, but the common thread was the theme of an empty vessel, its inhabitants absent but the traces of their existence still very much apparent.
    Then again …
    Perhaps there was a much simpler explanation, Hans reminded himself. Maybe the car had broken down and when the family had pulled over, another car had happened by and given them a lift. Perhaps they had grabbed only the barest of necessities and headed back towards Route 58.
    That was probably what had happened. Hans had almost convinced himself when the scent of citrus reached his nostrils. The tangy, lemony scent hit him full force.
    Maybe some sort of desert plant gives off this scent
, he mused. But the fragrance was so fresh and juicy. He breathed deeply, his nostrils twitching and his eyes widening.
    Perhaps it was just his imagination, but he thought he felt the earth vibrate ever so slightly. Not like an earthquake, really, more like something bubbling up from underfoot. Like when you stand above a subway vent and a train goes by below, sending up gusts of warm, humid air.
    Hans was dressed casually in a t-shirt and shorts, leaving much of his skin exposed. The breeze ruffled his leg hair and the hem of his t-shirt as it blew up his back to the nape of his neck. He took a step backwards, and then another.
    There was no need to look up; Hans knew there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. This was no ordinary wind. It was absolutely localized, gusting suddenly straight up from the ground in just one spot.
    He recoiled and raced back to his car. Less than a minute had elapsed since he’d parked his car and gone to investigate the Pontiac, but it felt like much longer. He opened the door, slid into his seat, and released the parking break. “All right, let’s go,” he said to his wife.
    There was no reply. Hans didn’t need to glance towards the passenger seat. Even staring straight ahead, he knew.
    His wife wasn’t there.
    “Claudia!” Hans cried, almost shrieking. His body turned to stone. Where was his wife? Even if she’d gotten out of the car and run as fast as she could, she couldn’t have gone far. Hans looked left and right, but Claudia was nowhere to be seen.
    But more than the terror of his wife’s disappearance, Hans was paralyzed by something he sensed behind him, an unidentifiable presence that seemed to grow ever closer. He had never experienced anything like it. The hairs at the nape of his neck stood on end. Hans knew Claudia hadn’t snuck into the back seat to give him a scare. This was nothing so innocent. In the dark stillness, he could feel the air waver ever so slightly,like the warm clamminess of someone breathing slowly in the back seat. The air flowed over the console box. Not from the air vents, but from behind. Slow, rhythmic breathing …
    “Clau …”
    Hans tried to call his wife’s name again, but his voice stuck in his throat. He knew he could catch a glimpse of the back seat through the rearview mirror, but he lacked the courage to look. Of course, he knew there