Chapter 4- Eerie Aura

Gasping for air, Audrey stared into the blackness that enveloped her like a thick fog. Her hands were locked in a death grip on the steering wheel. Her heart pounded against her ribcage, loud and erratic, drowning out the low hum of the engine and the static hiss of the radio. Her breath came in sharp bursts, shallow and uneven.

What jumped out in front of her car, which she nearly hit? Whatever it was, it appeared to be large. It moved too quickly for her to even try to figure out what it was. Clearly, she missed it. Her vehicle had no dents and no airbags had deployed.

There was nothing there save the forests that encircled her. A weird noise piqued her interest. She held her breath and looked out her side window, front windscreen, and passenger side glass, but couldn't see where the noise was coming from.

The dim brightness of her phone caught her sight, and she almost smacked herself in the face with her palm. The sound had been her mother's muffled voice shouting on the phone.

Audrey let out a breath that was half relief, half frustration, and slapped her palm gently against her forehead. She reached for the phone with shaky fingers and pressed it to her ear, swallowing hard.

“Audrey? Audrey, are you all right? Audrey?!”

“I’m here,” she gasped, her voice barely above a whisper. “I—I’m fine. I think. I’m okay.”

“You think you’re okay?” Her mother’s voice lowered, but concern still laced every word.

"Are you sure?" Her mother didn't sound convinced, but the loudness of her voice had dropped.

Audrey nodded and rubbed the back of her neck. She'd be lying if she claimed she wasn't terrified, but she didn't want her mother to worry any more than she already did. It wasn't as if she had hit anything. Whatever it was, it was most likely no longer present.

"Yeah. Yeah, I nearly hit something. Some sort of animal. I honestly don't know. It went so fast. It may have been a deer, or something. I don't know." She pressed her palm to her forehead and slowly inhaled and exhaled. She repeated it several times before her mother intervened again.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

She nodded again, still taking long, cleansing breaths. "Yeah. Yeah, I already feel better. I am just relieved and trying to relax."

"Well, you nearly gave me a heart attack!"

"Almost had an heart attack myself too." She shook her head. "I should hang up the phone. I should not have responded."

There was a beat of silence on the other end. Audrey squinted at the forest again, expecting… something. A shape. A flicker of motion. But there was nothing. Just endless trees and stillness.

"Mom?"

“I’m still here,” her mother replied, her voice softer now. “Maybe I should let you go. Just focus on getting there safely, okay?"

She nodded and sighed again, wiping a loose strand of hair off her face. "Yeah."

"Do you feel safe enough to keep driving?”

Audrey hesitated. Did she? Her hands still trembled on the wheel. Her heartbeat hadn’t fully settled. But the idea of pulling off to the side and sitting alone in the dark didn’t seem any better.

She pursed her lips as she swallowed. “I think so. I’m close to Minneapolis now.”

“All right. But if anything else happens, promise me you’ll stop. Find a motel. Call me.”

“I will,” Audrey said. “Love you, Mom.”

“Love you too, sweetheart. Drive safe.

After hanging up the phone, she put her head on her arms on the steering wheel. The drive had been fine up until that moment, but now she felt shaken. She had to pull herself together and continue on her way. She was close to Minneapolis, though the thought of booking into the nearest motel and calling it a night crossed her mind.

She shook her head. She had to keep moving. There was no use in stopping right now. She had to gather her strength and go through the final stretch, and it would all be worthwhile once she arrived. Just thinking about Dan and the surprise on his face when she arrived at his door would compensate for her near-death experience.

Though, if she was being honest with herself, the earlier fantasies about an intense, passionate reunion had faded. Her adrenaline had drowned them out.

“Maybe tomorrow,” she muttered, her voice dry as she sat back upright and adjusted her grip on the wheel.

She eased her foot off the brake and slowly pressed down on the gas. The tires rolled forward. The forest crept past in slow motion.

What she didn’t see—what she couldn’t see—were the eyes.

Several pairs of eyes. Low to the ground, watching her from the shadows of the bushes nearby.