The opening chords crackled through the car speakers, synth-heavy and hypnotic, wrapping around the morning like a spell. The bass thumped low, steady, pulling the world into rhythm.
A sleek black car cut through the countryside, sunlight glinting off its hood like a blade. The road stretched ahead, a ribbon of asphalt winding through rolling green hills that seemed to breathe with the wind. Stone walls lined the fields, ancient and crumbling, separating patches of wildflowers—purple heather and golden gorse blazing against the emerald grass. Sheep dotted the landscape like clouds fallen to earth, grazing lazily as the car roared past.
Inside, Laura sat behind the wheel, oversized sunglasses perched on her nose, one hand draped casually over the steering wheel, the other tapping the beat on the door. Her hair whipped in the breeze from the cracked window, wild and free. The dicky—packed tight with her chaotic luggage—rattled faintly with every bump, but she didn't care. She was alive, riding high on adrenaline and the promise of redemption.
The synth swelled, and she grinned, mouthing the words, her head bobbing.
The countryside blurred past—endless fields, towering oaks casting long shadows, a stone bridge arching over a lazy stream. The sky was a canvas of soft blues and whites, clouds drifting like whispers. For a moment, it was just her, the music, and the open road—no deadlines, no Clara, no fear. Just freedom.
Everybody's looking for something.
She cranked the volume higher, the chorus exploding through the speakers, and let out a whoop, her voice lost in the music.
The car slowed, tires crunching on gravel as Laura pulled up to a modest house on the edge of town. Ivy crawled up the brick walls, and a small garden burst with late-blooming roses. She honked twice—sharp, impatient blasts—and leaned back, drumming her fingers on the wheel.
"COMING!"
A high-pitched scream echoed from inside, followed by a crash and a muffled curse. Laura snorted, shaking her head.
Moments later, the front door burst open, and Taya stumbled out, dragging two oversized suitcases and a duffel bag slung over her shoulder. Her ponytail bounced wildly, and she wore a grin so wide it looked like it might split her face in half.
"Laura! Oh my God, we're actually doing this!" she squealed, wrestling one suitcase toward the car.
Laura popped the trunk—or dicky, as she called it—and hopped out, grabbing the other bag. "Took you long enough! Were you packing your entire wardrobe?"
"Uh, yeah? What if we meet cute Scottish guys? I need options!" Taya shot back, shoving her luggage into the already-cramped space. They slammed the trunk shut together, laughing, and Taya slid into the co-driver seat, tossing her duffel at her feet.
"Let's gooooo!" she yelled, buckling up.
Laura revved the engine, the music still blaring, and they peeled out, leaving a cloud of dust in their wake.
The road stretched ahead again, the countryside opening up around them. Taya fiddled with her phone, scrolling frantically, her eyes lighting up.
"Oh my God, Laura, you have to see this," she gasped, barely containing her laughter.
"What? What is it?" Laura glanced sideways, one eye on the road.
Taya turned the phone toward her, and Laura's jaw dropped. On the screen, a shaky video played—yesterday's office brawl, filmed from someone's desk. There was Laura, hair flying, hurling a burger at Clara, who ducked with a shriek. Then the two of them tangling, hands in each other's hair, papers flying like confetti. The caption read: "Horizon TV drama! Who's Team Laura?? 🍔👊 #OfficeChaos"
Laura's eyes went wide, then she burst out laughing, nearly swerving off the road. "No way! Someone filmed that?!"
"It's got 50,000 views already!" Taya cackled, scrolling through the comments. "'Team Laura all the way!' 'Clara deserved that burger!' Oh, oh, this one: 'Why does Laura look like a feral raccoon?' Rude, but kinda accurate."
"Feral raccoon?!" Laura shrieked, smacking the steering wheel. "I was defending my honor!"
"You were defending your job with a cheeseburger, Laura. That's peak raccoon behavior," Taya wheezed, tears streaming down her face.
They dissolved into giggles, the kind that made your stomach hurt, as the car sped through a tunnel of overhanging trees, sunlight flickering through the leaves like a strobe light.
Twenty minutes later, they pulled up to a neat suburban house with a manicured lawn and a white picket fence. Standing by the gate was John, looking like a man facing execution. His shoulders were slumped, his glasses slightly askew, and beside him stood his mother—a petite woman with iron-gray hair and a glare that could melt steel.
Laura honked once, and Taya immediately burst into laughter, pointing at John's mom.
"Oh my God, look at her face! She's about to disown him!"
John's mom crossed her arms, her eyes locking onto Laura through the windshield like a sniper acquiring a target. Laura gulped, shrinking slightly in her seat.
"Is... is she always like this?" Taya whispered, barely holding it together.
"Worse," Laura muttered.
John shuffled forward, dragging a single, sensibly-packed suitcase, his mom trailing behind like a storm cloud. He opened the back door and tossed his bag in, then turned to face his mother.
"Ma, I'll call you every day, I promise—"
"You better, Johnathan Michael! And don't let her"—she jabbed a finger toward Laura—"get you killed chasing ghosts or whatever nonsense she's dragged you into this time!"
"Ma, it's just a documentary—"
"Documentary, my foot! Last time, she had you staying up till 3 a.m. eating cold pizza and talking to conspiracy theorists!"
Laura leaned out the window, flashing her most innocent smile. "Mrs. H, I promise I'll take good care of him! Scout's honor!"
Mrs. H's eyes narrowed to slits, her lips pressed into a thin line. "You were never a Scout, Laura."
Taya snorted so hard she choked, and Laura quickly retreated back into the car, muttering, "Yeah, okay, fair."
John gave his mom a quick, awkward hug—she squeezed him like she might never see him again—then climbed into the backseat, exhaling heavily as he shut the door.
Laura floored it before Mrs. H could say another word, the car lurching forward. In the rearview mirror, she saw John's mom standing in the middle of the road, hands on her hips, watching them disappear.
"Your mom almost killed me with that look," Laura said, glancing at John through the mirror.
John adjusted his glasses, sighing. "She thinks you're a bad influence."
"She's not wrong," Taya chimed in, grinning.
"Hey!" Laura protested, but she was smiling. "I'm a great influence. I got us a documentary deal, didn't I?"
"You also got us into a fistfight with Clara and nearly fired," John deadpanned.
"Details, details," Laura waved him off.
Taya leaned back, scrolling through her phone again. "Oh, John, you're in the video too! Look—right there, in the background, hiding under a desk."
John groaned, covering his face. "Please tell me it's not trending."
"Oh, it's so trending," Taya said, cackling.
The three of them fell into easy banter, laughter filling the car as the countryside rolled by—golden fields giving way to darker forests, the hills growing steeper. The road curved gently, and ahead, a faded green sign appeared, white letters bold and clear:
LEAVING BRISTOL. COME AGAIN SOON.
Laura slowed slightly, and they all glanced at it, a moment of quiet settling over them. The music hummed softly in the background, the synth fading into the distance.
"Well," Laura said, her voice quieter now, almost reverent. "Here we go."
Taya grinned, leaning forward. "To Edinburgh. To Haceol. To the Whisper's Maw."
John swallowed hard, staring out the window. "To not dying horribly."
Laura and Taya both whipped around to stare at him.
John adjusted his glasses nervously, a weak smile forming. "You know... like, statistically... the fat one always dies first in horror movies. Just saying."
There was a beat of stunned silence.
Then Taya smacked his shoulder. "JOHN!"
Laura burst out laughing, nearly swerving the car. "Oh my God, you did NOT just say that!"
"What?! I'm just being realistic!" John protested, but he was grinning now, the tension breaking.
"You're an idiot," Taya wheezed, doubling over with laughter.
Laura shook her head, still chuckling, and hit the accelerator. The car surged forward, leaving Bristol behind, swallowed by the grey, winding roads ahead. The hills rose higher, the sky darkened just a touch, and somewhere in the distance, Edinburgh—and the shadows that waited there—called to them.
The music swelled one last time, the final notes lingering like a promise... or a warning.....
To be continued -