Lot 125: The Shortcut

story of the passenger that's been circulating online lately? A young couple set out on a van-life

“trip, but a few nights in, they came across a brutal car accident on the side of the road.”

I'm not talking about a typical crash, something about this was off, and there's one detail that keeps coming up. The car they found had three deep scratches carved into the side, not dense, scratches, they stopped, they saw it, and then they left. But here's where things got strange. Not long after, creepy things start happening. They began to feel like they weren't alone in the van, like something followed them from that road. People online have started connecting it to

something they're calling the passenger. Supposedly, it attaches itself to anyone who encounters

it and marks their car with three scratches. And once that happens, it doesn't let go. If these

reports are true, this couple didn't just witness something on that highway, they carried it with them. From Andre Overdall, director of autopsy of Jane Doe, comes passenger. Only in theaters may 20 seconds. Get tickets now. Hi, my name is Trevor. I'm from the Acquisitions Department here at the Antiquarium. The Antiquarium.myshopify.com is truly the hub of the Antiquarium experience. If you've been listening closely, you might already know some of the items don't quite stay contained.

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15,400 of them are never seen again. Have you heard the story of the passenger?

It's been circulating online lately. A young couple set out on a van-life road trip, but a few nights in, they came across a brutal car accident on the side of the road. I'm not talking about a typical crash. Something about this was off. And there's one detail that keeps coming up. The car they found had three deep scratches carved into the side. Not dense, scratches. They stopped, they saw it, and then they left. But here's where things got strange.

Not long after, creepy things start happening. They began to feel like they weren't alone in the van, like something followed them from that road. People online have started connecting it to something they're calling the passenger. Supposedly it attaches itself to anyone who encounters it and marks their car with three scratches. And once that happens, it doesn't let go. If these reports are true, this couple didn't just witness something on that highway. They carried

it with them. From Andre Ovidall, director of autopsy of Jane Dell comes, passenger, only in

“theaters may 22nd. Get tickets now. What you're about to experience exists in that world?”

The shortcut. The plane had been delayed. It was almost midnight, and I was still an hour from home, somewhere between Franklin and Wellington. I yawned, barely able to keep my eyes open. Faster route available, turn right in half a mile. Usually I opted to stay on the main roads, but I was so tired. I flipped on my blinker and turned onto the two-lane road, curving off into the woods. The road was desolate, weaving through a patch of thick forest,

glinting eyes, a fox, maybe, or a raccoon, before it turned and disappeared back into the darkness.

I jumped when my phone began to ring. Sorry, I'll be home soon. There was just so much traffic. I know. Between the traffic and the plane, it's like 3 hours later than I thought. I don't know how I'm going to get up for work tomorrow. Calling sick. Am I? So, how's the conference? Was it fun? No, unless you're really in delirining about 50 different types of, I'm sorry. Mike, who just texted you. Mike? I just got a weird text from Ellie. It says, "So sorry about Audrey."

Sorry about what? I don't know, until your plane was delayed or something. No. Maybe she feels bad

you had to be at the shitty conference all weekend. I guess. Oh, maybe it's an insult.

“Like, "So sorry about Audrey, so sorry you have to be your husband because she just sucks."”

"You're so mean!" The forest fell away, revealing a neon red diner sign shining through the fog. Despite the 24/7 sign in the window, the parking lot was completely desolate. Was that you?

Yeah, it's got another text. This one's from Marissa. What is she saying?

It's weird. She doesn't really text me. She says, "I'm sorry about Audrey. Is there anything I could do to help?" My heart began to pound. Silence sank into the car. I stared out of the trees, twisting and overlapping in the darkness. I glanced at the GPS at my icon crawling along the serpentine road in the middle of nowhere. What is she talking about? I don't know, this is really weird. Did someone post something about me? Uh, let's see, let me check.

“No, I'm not on Facebook at least. I stared out into the darkness. What were they talking about?”

I squinted as another neon red diner sign poked through the trees. How many diners did they have out here anyway? Someone must be losing their shirt? I don't know. What time you get back? I'm still a half hour away. The GPS keeps adding time. Okay, I guess. So, let you focus on driving me and we'll talk in a bit. I hung up the phone and hit the gas. The forest on either side of the road fell away to reveal an open field. Acres of dark, freshly plowed earth. No more diners at least.

The moon hung low in the sky. Not quite full. A fence ran along the road, rickety and old, broken in several places. Motion caught my eye. Someone walking on the side of the road. I squinted trying to get a better look. My phone rang and I jumped. He just scared me to death. I glanced him to side view mirror. Nothing. No one there. Just my mind playing tricks on me. Audrey, Emma just texted me and Olivia. Both of them, so sorry about what happened to you.

Just what exactly did you get yourself into? What? Nothing. Come on. Five of your friends,

“all texting me saying the same thing. They're sorry about what happened. So what happened?”

Nothing. It did something happen out in Reno. Was fucking Christopher there? No one. Wasn't what are they talking about? What's your tell him? I haven't even talked to them. Mike really, this is getting ridiculous. I'm not lying. What is it then? I don't know what. Why would he immediately go to cheating? He was so paranoid. What are they talking about then? Doubt nagged the back of my mind. Have they seen something online? Did someone post something

about me? What were they talking about? My heart sank. This wasn't good. Okay. Just get home. Then you can figure out what's going on.

up and pulled off onto the shoulder. The GPS now said 31 minutes. Clearly, I was lost.

“When I pulled out my phone, though, I saw I had a new notification.”

L-E-O-3 tagged you on Instagram. It was a photo of Ellie in me, arms wrapped around each other, smiling in her apartment. The caption, "Miss you so much," followed by several white hearts and a dove emoji. I squinted at it. Wait, what? I'd seen her last weekend. Why was she posting this now randomly? Is this what all those texts were about? So sorry about missing me? What the hell

was going on? I called Ellie. The line rang and rang until it went to voicemail. I opened Instagram

back up, staring at the photo. So weird. That's when I noticed there was a comment on the post. Hope they find her soon. I froze. Find me. What the hell? I threw the phone into the cup holder and pulled back onto the road, curving around the bend and starting downhill. I hit the gas. The speedometer crawling up to 35, 40, too fast for the twisty road. I jostled as I took a curve. No. There was someone standing on the side of the road. My headlights flashed over them.

And then they were gone. I hit the brakes, too late, glancing into the sideview mirror. It was so

fast. I couldn't tell whether they were young or old or anything else about them. Except that they were wearing dark clothing and had pale, almost sickly skin. But I had seen someone. I was sure of it. Who the hell would be out here so late walking on the side of the road? No. Not walking.

“Just standing there. Who would be standing on the side of the road at almost one AM?”

I slowly made my way around the curve, gasping in air as reality set in. I almost hit them. I was so caught up and being lost I'd almost run someone over. The shrill sound of my phone made me yelp. Mike. Your mom just called me. She didn't sound so good. She's super upset. Say and all these weird things about you going. Missing. I told you not, Missing. I was just talking to you but she didn't believe me. Audrey, it's bad. I don't think she's taking her meds.

She thinks I'm missing? Yeah. She said she calls you 10 times and you didn't pick up. All her texts were left on red too. I haven't gotten any calls or texts from her. I figured I don't know. A horrible sinking feeling flooded me. The weird texts, the Instagram post. They all too sounded like something happened to me. Did my mom text all my friends? I gone missing and they all believed her. Do you think my mom told Marissa and everyone?

“And that's why they've been texting you? Maybe, but I've been getting more texts.”

More? Yeah. From Dave and Sam, like everyone. Saying how sorry they already hear about you asking if there's any updates. It's so weird. It's so fucking weird. They seem convinced that you're missing. But I mean, there's no way your mom has other contact info. I don't know. Maybe it's some sort of prank? But I knew that wasn't true. Dave didn't even know any of my friends. So how would he be in on it? And my mom certainly wasn't the kind of fool around like this.

I took a deep breath and stared out into the darkness. More fields. I seemed to stretch all on forever, rising into rolling hills at the edges of my vision. The GPS still said 29 minutes until home. I saw someone walking on the side of the road. Actually not even walking, just standing there. Okay, that's terrifying. I know. I'm just going to focus on driving now,

The desolate fields stretching out all around me. Not a light, rebuilding, or any evidence of

“civilization in sight. The fog seemed to grow thicker swirling in the headlights. I just want to be”

home. I want to hold Mike and fall asleep in my own bed. It was too quiet. I reached over and clicked on the radio. Harsh static filled the car. I winceed and spun the dial looking for a station. After a few seconds, a voice cut through the silence. Slow and pat in clear. Give your warning sign if danger is near so that I may stop while the path is clear. It almost sounded like a child's voice, reciting a poem, a prayer, it creeped me out and I clicked the radio back off.

The forest crept up again on both sides of the car. Branches tangling above me, pitch black

beyond the reach of my headlights. I hit the gas and when as fast as I could, bouncing over the hills, bracing at the curves. The GPS wouldn't budge. Still 29 minutes left. The phone rang. Mike. Are you okay? Yeah. Why? The police just called me. They said, they said they found your car. What? I know. I told them it was impossible. It couldn't be

“yours because I just been talking to you but they said they said the plates matched. Where?”

On some back road outside of Franklin, like halfway off the road. What? I stared out into the darkness. That's where I am. That's where I am right now. I swallowed my fear. I'm driving. I'm okay. There's nothing wrong. It must be some sort of scam. They tell you that so you followed them to some remote location and they rob you. Okay, but what about the text? This is not some coincidence. Everyone literally thinks you're missing even the police now.

But I'm literally driving the car they found right now. And I'm not fucking missing. Audrey, I asked them to describe the car. They not only did that, they described it down to the rosary hanging on the rearview mirror and that little dent on the passenger side.

“It is your car. No. Just, no. How would they know all that shit?”

Well then, someone tried really hard to make a look like your car and even switched the fucking license plates. Mike, you know it can't be my car. How do I know you're you? This happened to Joe. Remember he told us, how do I know you're not some AI voice thing someone's using and you're dead in the ditch somewhere? That's ridiculous. It has to be some kind of prank. Well, I pranked by the police. I checked the phone number Audrey.

I, I think this is real. Silence pressed in on me. I stared out at the dark road. My headlights floating in the darkness. How can it be real? I'm not missing. I know.

130 million people take road trips every year. 15,400 of them are never seen again. Have you heard

the story of the passenger that's been circulating online lately? A young couple set out on a van-life trip, but a few nights in, they came across a brutal car accident on the side of the road. I'm not talking about a typical crash. Something about this was off. And there's one detail that keeps coming up. The car they found had three deep scratches carved into the side. Not dent, scratches. They stopped, they saw it, and then they left. But here's where things got strange.

Not long after creepy things start happening. They began to feel like they weren't alone in the van, like something followed them from that road. People online have started connecting it to something they're calling the passenger. Supposedly, it attaches itself to anyone who encounters it and marks their car with three scratches. And once that happens, it doesn't let go. If these reports are true, this couple didn't just witness something on that highway, they carried it with them.

From Andre overdol, director of autopsy of Jane Doe, comes passenger. Only in theaters may

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I turned the bend. The forest flanking the road fell away. And there, hovering in the darkness. Was a bright red neon sign reading. Diner. Horrible realization washed over me. It was the exact same diner. The empty parking lot, the chrome walls. It wasn't just similar. It was exactly the same. I was going in circles. Except that was impossible. I'd been going north or west the entire time. I'd kept checking. There was no way I could have gone in a circle.

“I think I'm lost. I hit the brakes and swung into the diner parking lot. Pulled out my phone.”

Little blue indicator showed me on a twisting road in the middle of nowhere. I slid my fingers across the screen, zooming out. But there was nothing there. No other roads. Just vast, gray emptiness. When I tried to zoom out further, the app crashed. No error message. No warning.

I pulled it up a second time. A third. And the same thing happened. Audrey, you still there?

Maps isn't working. Or the car GPS. I don't know where I am. Okay, share your location with me. I should have thought of that. I pulled out my phone and shared my location with Mike. It seemed like that was working at least. Even if Maps wasn't. Do you see it? Yeah, I'm looking at it right now. It just shows you on this road. All I'm going to zoom out. Fuck. It's crashes.

“No, every time I zoom out it crashes. What? That's what's happening to me.”

Look, there's this diner here. I'm going to see if anyone's in there. Maybe they can direct me back to the highway. I looked up at the diner. It looked completely empty. The window's glowing gold. Every instinct was screaming at me to stay in the car and drive. But what other choice did I have? I got out. The red diner sign glowed above me flickering in the slight fog. The slam that the door sounded oddly muffled. I hurried up to the front door and tucked.

Locked. Locked. Even though it claimed to be 24 hours. Anyone there? I need help. Nothing. And then I saw her. There was a single waitress standing at a table on the far side of the

She didn't react. Didn't turn around. Hey! What the hell is going on?

“I ran back downstairs towards the car, glinting under the single street lamp flickering above.”

As I reached for the door, I noticed something on the smooth red metal. Three indentations. Almost like scratches. I ran my fingers over them. They were too deep to be caused by a wayward branch. I glanced around the dark silent forest. The fog lifting off the road. Then I dove into the seat and slammed the door. That's when I saw it.

A flyer on the windshield tucked under the wiper. In thin, narrow letters it read.

Don't drive at night with a hand drawn creepy looking stick figure next to it. I glanced out the window. There was no one there that I could see. Maybe they were watching me from under the trees. It felt like whoever they were, they were daunting me. I hit the gas and pulled back onto the road. I don't know what to do, Mike. The waitress wouldn't come out and someone left a flyer on

my car, but there's no one there. I'm in a call to police.

But I don't know where I am. Okay, okay. Don't panic. We'll figure this out.

“Where were you before getting on this road? A street sign or anything? Do you know what town it was?”

On 40 outside of Franklin. All right, I'll tell him that. What's the name of the road? I stared at the car's screen. There was no name on the road. It was just blank. I don't know. I don't know. I hit the gas. The red diner sign receded in the rear view mirror. I stared at the compass. Still going northwest. The GPS still said 29 minutes to go. As long as I didn't change direction, I had to get out of here. I had to.

Forest crept back up. I rounded a curve, but the compass didn't change direction. Fuck, that's not possible. Is it? I looked up and hit the brakes. There was someone standing there on the side of the road. Again, from their dark clothing and pale skin, it almost looked like the same person. That's impossible. There's no way. Mike? Someone's at the door. I glanced at the clock.

112 AM. My heart sank. What? That would be there so late. I heard Mike's heavy footsteps over the phone. Then a pause. Oh, look, it's the police. What? It's the police. Should I open up? I don't know. Like a bullet G. Yes. Your wife is Audrey, police, you correct? Yeah. There's some decided body here. So late. But we found some personal effects that we believe

brought your wife. My heart sank. What? Her shoes were found in the creek. Extra wallet. That's impossible. I'm on the phone with my wife right now. She doesn't know where she is.

“She took her turn off route 40 outside of Franklin. Here, you should talk to her. She can find her.”

A rustling sound as he took the phone and handed it to them. I heard a blip of a low voice and then a shrill deafening screech like microphone feedback. It winds to fill the car and ground against my brain. And then the call dropped. No, no. Audrey, Audrey, is that you? Mike. Oh, thank God. The call dropped and I was saying I kept trying to call you back. You wouldn't answer. Audrey, it's been three hours.

Where are you? Mike, what? It hasn't even been a minute. I keep trying back and every time

Can you hear me? Mike's voice caught in and out. Laced with static. I was losing the connection.

What the fuck is happening? I looked at the screen. Two bars. That was losing my signal. Mike, I don't know where I am. The tree is cleared again. The red diner sign, glowed in the darkness, mocking me, clouds swirled around a half moon and a horrible silence pressed in on me. A mechanical wine came through the speakers and the call dropped again. I frantically tried to dial 911. The call dropped before it even connected. I tried calling my mother,

my friends, nothing went through. I finally called Mike back. After three rings, he picked up.

Mike called the police. Help me. Audrey, who got her? You got her, you okay?

“I'm right here. It's been a wish. No, it hasn't. It's the passenger. That's what they're saying.”

You were driving at night and you were cursed. Is that true? What the fuck are you talking about? It's not just you. Thousands of people have gone missing while driving at night. They're like the market or something at

in this thing. It follows them. His voice cut into static. Jittering blips came through,

but I couldn't make out a single word. You can't solve. The hell was going on? What? Audrey, don't let it touch you because if it doesn't, it will hurt you. Audrey, whenever you're due, don't let it touch you. No, I swear. I heard her. I pocket swear. She's alive.

“We have to find her. A lie in the woods. With a car or shoes or a wallet for an entire week?”

Came a bit of a list. My mom's. I don't want to believe she's dead either, but she has to be. I heard her voice. I heard her voice. I'm right here. I'm right here. They didn't seem to hear me. But it was clear where they were. I was missing. My car had been found. My shoes. I was alive driving on this road in the middle of nowhere, but in their world, I was gone. With a harsh line of static, the call dropped. I tried to call him back.

Over and over again. But every call dropped immediately or went straight to voicemail. I don't know how long I've been driving now. Hours, days. It doesn't feel like it's been that long, but I don't think I'm ever going to see Mike again. I don't think I'm going to see anyone ever again. I think I'm going to drive on this road forever, separated from the rest of reality.

“Because the only thing that does work is a single radio station on AM. I've been listening to it for hours now.”

It's been cycling through the news. There's one story the man keeps reading over and over among the others. A young woman gone missing somewhere between Franklin and Wellington. Her car found part halfway off the road. And if anyone has any information, please, please call the hotline and tell the police they need your help. But of course, when I call the police, it ends in that high-pitched line that feels a kiss, slicing into my skull. The moon hangs low in the sky, waxing and waning,

and the red sign of the diner keeps glowing in the distance. High above the tree tops. I keep driving. The antiquarium of sinister happenings, the shortcut, from the world of Andre overdose passenger.

and Jade Shand, consigned by Blair Daniels, produced by Kevin Seaman, theme music by the new

“brothers. Additional music by Coag, Vivek Abashek, Clement Panchau, Nicholas Redding, and Conan Freeman.”

The antiquarium of sinister happenings is created and curated by Trevor Morn Shand. Follow us on

Instagram and Twitter @Antiquariumpod, call the antiquarium at 646-41-71-97.

“In the alley, the center is stronger, overpowering.”

As I watch, the overhead lamps flicker and wink out one by one. God damn it. No. The girl appears briefly under the last street light. The headphones snugly

“answer ears, the walkman clasp to her hip. She's oblivious as she walks, lost in her own world.”

Hey, stop! I need to talk to you! Then she swallowed up by the darkness again.

Helen, wait a second! It strikes her in the gloom so fast she barely has time to scream.

She falls into the edge of the lamplight and lies there, bleeding, motionless. The man's skin is scaly, flaking, and there are patches of suit on his cheeks. He stares at me with eyes like midnight. Eyes that are devoid of remorse, devoid of humanity. He's one of them. I turn and run, and I don't look back. The road of shadows, a new mystery and suspense audio drama by Mark Ahili, creator of the strata.

Listen now at TheRotofShadows.com