The Shortcut
By midnight, the bus rolled into a roadside dhaba. Hunger pulled everyone out of their seats, and soon they were gathered around steaming plates, talking and laughing like they hadn't eaten in weeks.
Shreekant and Karan ordered to pack their food and slipped away for a short walk, drawn by the faint glow of a small tea stall. Its lone bulb buzzed weakly, illuminating the wiry stall owner who brewed chai with practiced motions.
"Two chai, please," Karan ordered.
The man handed them steaming glasses but lingered, his tired eyes studying them. "Where are you headed this late?"
"Goa," Shreekant replied casually. "We're on a bus trip."
At that, one of the locals sipping chai at a bench nearby leaned forward. "There's a shortcut. Shaves off two hours."
The stall owner stiffened, his tone sharp. "Stay on the highway. Don't think of shortcuts."
Karan frowned. "Why? What's wrong with it?"
The locals exchanged uneasy glances. One finally muttered, "That road… people say it loops. You drive and drive, but somehow you end up right where you started."
Another whispered, "And sometimes, worse. Sometimes the dark itself follows you there."
The stall owner cut them off with a harsh look before leaning close to the boys, his voice firm. "Some roads exist for men. And some… exist to take men. Stay on the highway."
Shreekant and Karan forced nervous laughs, paid quickly, and hurried back to the bus, brushing it off but unable to shake the chill in their chests.
---
Back on the Bus
Later, as the bus rumbled forward, Shreekant mentioned the shortcut.
"There's a road that'll cut the trip short. We should take it," he suggested.
"No," Wick said flatly, his voice leaving no room for debate.
"It'll save time," Karan argued halfheartedly. "Two hours less. Everyone's exhausted."
"Time isn't the problem." Wick's gaze stayed fixed out the window, his jaw tight. "We're here to enjoy the journey. But if you take the wrong road once… you may not get another chance." His hand curled into a fist on his knee.
The bus went quiet, the weight of his words settling heavy.
Aryan tried to break the tension with a chuckle. "Relax, man. It's just a road. What's the worst that can happen? We end up in Narnia?"
Laughter trickled through the group, easing the moment. From the back, someone muttered, "We'll be fine. Just take the shortcut. I want to reach before sunrise."
But beside Wick, Shristi noticed something the others didn't—the unease flickering in his eyes. Wick rarely doubted. Wick rarely feared. And that unsettled her more than his words.
Against Wick's protests, the driver turned onto the shortcut road.
Laughter returned, but softer this time, as if muffled by something unseen. Wick leaned back in his seat, arms crossed, his eyes never leaving the empty stretch of road ahead.
And the moment the wheels touched the shortcut, the night shifted.
The crickets stopped. The wind stilled. Even the hum of the forest around them seemed to vanish.
Only silence remained.
A silence that felt as though it was waiting.
The journey continued.
The laughter that once filled the bus had slowly faded into soft murmurs and the occasional hum of the tires against the road. But as soon as they took the shortcut, something in the air changed—subtle at first, like a shift in the wind, but Wick felt it immediately.
He sat by the window, watching the trees blur past under the dull headlights. "Something's off," he murmured, more to himself than to anyone.
The others barely noticed. Half the group was asleep, heads resting against the rattling glass. The hum of the engine was the only sound — steady, almost hypnotic.
No insects, no rustling leaves, no distant horns. Only the low growl of the engine cutting through an emptiness that seemed to swallow sound whole.
Wick's eyes flicked to the window. The road stretched endlessly ahead, hemmed in by thick, shadowy trees. The same crooked trunk appeared again… and again.
Something was wrong.
He leaned slightly forward from his seat, his sharp gaze fixed on the road. "Dev, slow down," he said quietly.
Dev glanced back, confused but obeyed. "What's up?"
Wick didn't answer right away. He scanned the surroundings again—the same old milestone, half-buried in weeds, the same broken board that leaned against a tree.
Ten minutes later, it appeared again.
Wick's jaw tightened. "Stop the bus."
Dev hit the brakes, and the vehicle shuddered to a halt. Everyone stirred awake with groggy complaints.
"What now?" Aryan yawned. "Bathroom break in the middle of the jungle?"
Wick ignored the joke. "We've been here before."
Shristi frowned, rubbing her eyes. "What do you mean 'here before'? We just—"
He pointed through the windshield. "That same board. That same milestone. We've been driving in a circle."
A chill rippled through the group. Deep leaned forward. "Could be a coincidence."
"It's not," Wick said flatly. "Look outside. The road bends left every few meters, but there's no change in direction. We're looping."
Aryan blinked at him, half-disbelieving. "You sure? Maybe you're overthinking it, man."
Before Wick could answer, the bus jolted—then the engine died completely. The headlights flickered once and went out, plunging them into darkness.
A tense silence followed, broken only by Kritika's uneasy whisper. "Did… did the bus just stop on its own?"
Dev twisted the key again. Nothing. Not even a click.
"Maybe some malfunction," Wick muttered, but even as he said it, he didn't believe it. His instincts screamed otherwise.
He took a deep breath, forcing his tone calm. "Alright, everyone stay inside. Don't open the door unless I say so."
Shristi looked up sharply. "What's going on?"
"Probably just an issue with the engine," he said, meeting her eyes. "But it's a forest area. Don't get out, okay?"
Something in his voice—firm but protective—kept her from arguing.
Wick motioned to Dipanshu. "Come with me. Let's check."
The two stepped out into the heavy darkness. The air was damp and cool, carrying the faint scent of wet earth. Their footsteps crunched softly on gravel as they circled the bus.
Nothing looked out of place. The tires were fine, the engine compartment normal, no smoke or smell of fuel.
"Everything's fine," Dipanshu muttered, scratching his head. "Then why the hell won't it start?"
Wick crouched near the front tire, his eyes narrowing as he touched the ground. The surface was cold—too cold.
He stood slowly. "It's not the bus."
Aryan frowned. "What do you mean?"
Wick's eyes swept the treeline. The shadows between the trees seemed to breathe. "It's this place. I told you, the vibe wasn't right the moment we took this road."
Aryan forced a laugh. "You mean it's haunted or something?"
Wick didn't smile. "No… but it feels like it's alive."
The stillness pressed on them like weight. The forest was too quiet, too watchful.
Deep climbed down from the bus to join them, flashlight in hand. "Anything?"
"Nothing mechanical," Dipanshu replied. "Bus just died."
Wick took the flashlight, scanning the road ahead. The beam caught dust swirling in the air, and beyond that—nothing. The light didn't seem to reach far, as if the darkness swallowed it whole.
"We'll check if there's a mechanic nearby," Wick decided. "There might be a village ahead."
Deep looked uncertain. "You sure it's a good idea to split up?"
Wick met his gaze. "No. But sitting still isn't helping either."
He glanced back at the bus, where faint silhouettes of the others were visible through the windows—Shristi, still awake, watching him intently.
He gave her a reassuring nod before turning back to Deep. "Let's go. And stay sharp."
As the two started down the unmarked road, Aryan called after them, trying to sound casual though his voice trembled just a little, "Don't go too far, yeah?"
Wick didn't answer. He just raised a hand in acknowledgment, his flashlight cutting through the darkness.
The forest loomed around them—silent, endless, and wrong.
And for the first time that night, even Wick felt something cold creep down his spine.
Something was watching.
Something that hadn't blinked once since they'd arrived.
To be continued...