Chapter 3
Astrid
The sun dipped lower, melting into ribbons of gold and burnt orange along the horizon. There was something deeply soothing about watching sunsets from empty roads, as if I'd driven straight into a scene from a classic country movie.
My phone vibrated with a notification, breaking the quiet. A photo-memory filled the screen—Kelly and me grinning, tongues out, peace signs up.
I blinked. “What the—”
Kelly shot me a quick sideways glance. “What’s wrong?”
“Remember that time I visited Orange Falls?”
“Of course, you didn’t want to come then either.
I literally had to drag your reluctant butt all the way there.
And oh my God, the candy apple incident!
You took one bite, and bam, the wind sent your hair straight into that sticky mess.
It was adorable, in a hilariously tragic way.
” She laughed, eyes gleaming as she relived my most embarrassing moment in glorious detail.
“And you made it even worse by nearly scalping me while trying to untangle it,” I shot back. “But that’s not the point right now.”
“No?”
I lifted my phone to show her, but Kelly threw me a sharp look that said, Do you want me to crash?
“Fine.” I sighed, dropping my phone back into my lap. “Exactly five years ago today, I was in Orange Falls.”
Kelly’s eyes widened as the realization dawned. “Wait—this exact day? And now, five years later, you’re coming back?”
“Yes!” Usually, I'd never need a reminder—Orange Falls had a permanent spot in the messy filing cabinet of my mind. But this year, my head just wasn't in it. I'd completely lost track of days, months, everything, really.
“That’s one hell of a coincidence!”
“Yes, hell of a coincidence!” I echoed, a smile tugging at my lips.
Memories rushed in, warm and bittersweet.
Orange Falls hadn’t been on my mind then, just like now.
I was supposed to be on a week-long trip to Europe, until clumsy, chaotic me managed to lose my passport.
It wasn’t until I was halfway to the airport, rummaging through my bag in panic in the back of an Uber, that I realized it was gone.
I wallowed in self-pity over my ruined trip, binge-watching videos of happy tourists wandering through all the places I'd planned to visit, basically torturing myself.
Kelly tried to convince me to come to Orange Falls, and I gave her an instant, firm no. So, she played dirty, calling Dad, knowing perfectly well he was the one person I could never refuse.
I went with no expectations, but the town was so breathtaking it pulled me out of my sulking without me even noticing. Its beauty captivated me at every turn, the rustic charm of its historic streets, the fresh, invigorating scent of lemon groves, the vineyards under the warm sun.
Riding the Orange Falls Express was a moment I’d cherish for a lifetime. Those notes I’d exchanged with—I slammed the brakes on that thought. I wasn’t opening that lock.
“Anything I should know about the town before I settle in?” I asked.
“Alright.” Kelly slipped into her best tour-guide voice.
“Quick crash course on Orange Falls: The Ashbournes founded it, and they still own half the town. Every Saturday there’s a farmers' market, you'll get all the fresh stuff cheap.
Town meetings happen once a month, but nobody really goes unless they've got something to complain about. Except, of course, for the gossip squad. They never miss an opportunity to catch up on all the latest drama.”
“Gossip squad?” I frowned.
“Think of them as detectives without any actual crimes to solve,” Kelly said. “They dig into everyone’s personal business and broadcast it to the entire town. Azzie, there are three people you absolutely want to avoid.”
I nodded solemnly, making a mental note: Whoever these women were, I'd be giving them a very wide berth.
“First, there's Aunt Dee—the ringleader.
Her lemon tarts are hands down the best in town, probably why everyone flocks to her café.
Sure, they come for the treats, but they stay for the gossip.
Then there's Lou and Betty, her minions. Those two sniff out every scrap of information in town and deliver it straight to Aunt Dee.”
“Sounds like this town doesn’t even need a newspaper,” I laughed.
“You bet. Their network moves faster than Twitter—sorry, X.”
Kelly kept the conversation flowing effortlessly until the sun finally dipped out of sight.
Moonlight took over, spilling softly onto the quiet road flanked by sleepy trees.
Unlike city streets, there was barely a whisper of traffic here.
We’d counted maybe six cars, a couple of farm trucks, and exactly one startled deer.
I inhaled deeply, soaking up the fresh night air, when the car’s headlights lit up a sign: Hitchhiker’s Bend, 5 Miles Ahead.
The name had a distinctly creep factor, like something straight from a campfire story. “What’s Hitchhiker’s Bend?”
“We’re close,” Kelly said. “Maybe half an hour, tops.”
“Hitchhiker’s Bend?” I echoed.
Kelly shrugged, trying to sound casual, but her voice came out strained. “People say weird things happen there, but it's nothing, mostly.”
I shot her a look. “Kel.”
“Well…um”—she gave me a sheepish laugh—"there's this ghost lady who, you know, haunts that stretch of the road.”
“Hau…nts?” My voice splintered awkwardly around the word. This wasn’t the time or place to hear ghost stories. Not when we were in perfect murder-movie conditions. And yet, my traitorous fingers were already typing Hitchhiker’s Bend into the Google search bar.
The page started loading, slowly. One bar of signal blinked at me as if taunting me.
“Damn this! The internet picks now to act like it’s straight out of the Stone Age.
” I turned to Kelly. “Alright, spill it. Don’t even think about telling me it’s nothing.
I’ll lose my mind before this thing finishes loading. ”
Every single time I start a horror movie, I swear I won’t regret it and yet, without fail, I always do.
By midnight, every single light in the house is on, and I’m practically leaping out of my skin at shadows, creaks, and, on one particularly embarrassing night, the innocent sweater I’d tossed onto the chair.
You’d think my curiosity would learn its lesson, but nope—it never does.
“Can we not talk about it?” Kelly begged. “You know how easily I freak out.”
“And you know my curiosity has zero self-control,” I said. “Spill, please.”
She took a deep breath, bracing herself.
“Fine. So, years ago, a woman was standing on this road late at night, trying to hitch a ride. A driver didn’t see her.
He hit her, and she died on the spot. Now, people swear they see her appear out of thin air, asking for rides.
If someone stops, she climbs into the backseat, and then—well, that's when things supposedly get wild. She starts to shake the car violently until the driver panics, loses control, and…you know. Crash. Basically, she’s the world’s worst passenger. ”
The internet chose that exact moment to load, revealing a picture of a pale woman in a white dress standing by the side of the road, eyes glowing creepily like high-beam headlights. Bless my soul, if the lady didn’t scare me straight into the afterlife.
“And you’re telling me this now?” On my last trip to Orange Falls, I’d taken the bus. I spent most of the ride sleeping, snacking, or daydreaming. The thought that I’d traveled down this haunted road without knowing sent a chill straight down my spine.
“I take this route all the time, and I’m still alive, right?
Besides, the ghost lady supposedly only comes out at night.
” Kelly trailed off when I glanced pointedly at the pitch-black sky.
She laughed nervously, the sound coming out more like a squeak.
“Okay, bad example. But don’t worry, even if she does show up, I’m definitely not stopping. ”
I caught another sign just then— Caution: Hitchhiker’s Bend—4 Miles. Go slow.
The road had narrowed to barely enough space to fit a car and a half, trees pressing in so close it felt as if I’d stumbled straight into a horror movie.
I leaned forward, stealing a quick glance at the dashboard.
We were going fifty miles an hour. Quick math: four miles at fifty mph meant about five more minutes stuck on this creepy road.
I slid my glasses off for good measure. If the Hitchhiking Lady was out there, I figured my blurry vision might actually be my best defense. Blurry ghosts are less terrifying.
“If the Hitchhiking Lady pops into the backseat, do you think she prefers spooky songs?”
Kelly shot me a sideways glance, obviously questioning my sanity.
“Eyes on the road,” I reminded her. “I’m just trying to make conversation.”
“Seriously?” she yelled. “Of all the possible topics in the universe, that was your pick?”
The car lurched violently, slamming into a pothole with a teeth-rattling thunk .
“Freaking government,” Kelly muttered irritably. “Can't even keep the roads drivable.”
“Did you just roast your dad—Kel, watch out!” I screamed as something golden flashed through the darkness. My heart shot straight into my throat as the blur snapped into focus.
It was a deer.
Kelly jerked the wheel sharply to the left.
The tires squealed, losing traction and sending the car sliding sideways.
She fought to regain control, but we skidded off the road.
Bushes scraped against the doors, branches clawing at the metal, slowing us just enough that when we hit the tree, the impact was solid but not devastating.
We jolted to an abrupt, heart-stopping halt.
Our seatbelts tightened, pulling us firmly back into our seats. My breath came fast and uneven. “Y-you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine...” Kelly managed a breathless, shaky laugh. “W-we nearly got taken out by a deer.”
“At least it’s not the Hitchhiking Lady,” I said weakly, attempting a joke as I patted around, searching for my glasses, which had slipped off during the crash. But I didn’t find them.
“Don’t jinx it.”
We climbed out to inspect the damage. The bumper was dented—annoying, but survivable.
Feeling slightly less doomed, we got back inside.
Kelly turned the key. The engine gave a tired whine, then went silent.
Another attempt. Still nothing. We exchanged a look and stepped out of the car again, opening the hood as if either of us had any clue what we were looking at.
“It might be the fuel pump,” I said doubtfully, squinting at the mess of metal and wires. “But honestly, I'm not sure. Try it again.”
Kelly tried the ignition again. Still nothing.
“Can we fix it?” she asked, poking her head out the window, sounding half-hopeful.
“Not unless we've suddenly become mechanics.” I glanced down the empty road, which stretched deep into the dark woods. “This car's not going anywhere.”
“What now?” Kelly asked, coming up beside me.
“Try calling your mom or dad,” I suggested. “Maybe they can send someone to pick us up.”
She pulled out her phone, her shoulders immediately slumping. “Of course. Zero bars. Because why would anything go right today?”
I checked mine, too, not that I expected miracles. “Same. Welcome to the horror-movie setup of our dreams.”
Headlights appeared in the distance, getting closer. Kelly and I exchanged the kind of look that needed no translation—we absolutely had to stop this car. We hurried to the roadside, waving our arms, but it sped past without even slowing.
A few minutes later, another car approached, and this one actually slowed. My heart did a tiny, hopeful dance—finally, a decent human. But the driver took one look at us, eyes wide with panic, hit the gas, and disappeared into the darkness, as if we were the ones he should be scared of.
“Shit!” Kelly snapped.
“Yes, shit! Looks like the rumor’s getting a sequel— Hitchhiking Lady 2: Now with Friends.”
We'd been standing out in the dark for nearly an hour. Four cars and one truck had passed by and not a single one stopped.
Cowards, all of them.
I'd never imagined people could be so freaked out by a local ghost story that they'd abandon two harmless girls stranded by the side of the road.
The woods had gone quiet. Not cozy quiet, more like serial-killer-documentary quiet.
My imagination helpfully conjured images of wild animals prowling around and sizing us up as midnight snacks.
I was mentally drafting tomorrow's headline—“One Local Girl and Another Still Unidentified, Eaten by Bear”—when the faint hum of an engine drifted toward me, pulling my attention back to the road.
“We have to stop this one,” I said.
“Even if we become human speed bumps,” she said, completely serious.
We hurried to the edge of the road, waving our arms frantically like castaways signaling a rescue plane. But the car didn't even pretend to slow down. In fact, it sped up, zipping past us as if we were invisible.
Anger bubbled up inside me.
“Asshole! Dickhead! Thick-skulled! Brain-dead moron!” I shouted after the car. “Fine! Drive off, you coward! Have fun sleeping tonight when the Hitchhiking Lady crawls into bed and spoon-cuddles your sorry ass—”
I froze mid-rant as the car’s brake lights flared, bathing the road in a red glow.
My heart sank.
Did he hear me?
To my absolute horror, the car began reversing, slowly backing toward us.
Relief should’ve been great right about now, someone finally taking pity on us, but it's hard to feel relieved when the person coming back had just been called every name in the curse-word dictionary.
The car eased to a slow, deliberate stop right beside me.
The window slid down. I squinted, trying to see the blurry figure inside.
Between the lack of decent lighting and the fact that my glasses had disappeared somewhere in the car, I could only make out the vague silhouette—dark hair falling across a forehead, eyes hidden beneath shadows, maybe the faint outline of a beard, but nothing clearer than that.
Silence.
He didn’t say a word, just studied me silently as though I were an alien.
Kelly hurried over. “Um…thank you for stopping?”
He didn't glance her way. His eyes stayed locked on mine, pinning me in place so intensely my heart stumbled over its next beat.
“You’re lucky I’ve got thick skin. Most asshole dickheads wouldn’t bother stopping for a ‘brain-dead moron.’” Voice like velvet smoke—deep, rich, and just enough rasp to make the insult sound effortless.