The Long Drive to Nowhere

It was late July, and the heat had settled over the desert like a blanket that wouldn’t lift. Our family was driving to my aunt’s place, a small house on the outskirts of a town called Dry Springs, about two hours from the city. The road was long and empty, just a strip of blacktop cutting through scrubland and the occasional gas station that looked like it had been abandoned for decades. My brother, Ben, was asleep in the back seat, and my parents were talking in low voices up front. I was staring out the window, watching the stars appear one by one as the sun dipped below the horizon.

We’d been on the road for about an hour when I saw her. A girl, maybe my age, walking along the side of the road. She was wearing a light dress, the kind you’d wear on a summer day, but it was night now, and there was nothing around for miles. My mother noticed her first. ‘What’s a girl doing out here at this hour?’ she said, her voice tight with concern.

My father slowed the car. ‘Maybe she’s lost. We should ask if she needs a ride.’ My mother nodded, and my father pulled over ahead of her. The girl approached our car, and as she got closer, I could see that her hair was pinned back neatly, and she was clutching a small, worn purse. My father rolled down his window. ‘Do you need a lift?’ he asked. ‘We’re heading to Dry Springs.’

The girl smiled, a thin, polite smile. ‘That would be lovely, thank you.’ She opened the back door and slid in next to me. Ben stirred but didn’t wake. The car filled with the scent of dust and something else, something sweet, like overripe fruit.

I tried to make conversation. ‘Where are you going?’ I asked. She turned to me, her eyes dark and unblinking. ‘I’m visiting my grandmother. She lives in a house off the main road. I missed my bus.’ Her voice was soft, but there was something flat about it, as if she were reciting a script.

My parents exchanged glances in the rearview mirror. ‘We can take you there,’ my mother said, ‘but it’s out of our way. We’re going to my sister’s place.’ The girl nodded. ‘That’s fine. You can drop me at the gate. It’s not far.’

We drove on, the road stretching ahead of us, empty and dark. The girl didn’t speak much after that. She sat with her hands folded in her lap, staring straight ahead. Every once in a while, I caught her glancing at me from the corner of her eye, and there was something wrong with her smile, like it was painted on.

After a while, my father said, ‘You said it’s off the main road? Which turnoff?’ The girl pointed to a dirt track that appeared out of the darkness, barely visible. ‘Right there. My grandmother’s house is at the end of that road.’ My father slowed and turned onto the track, the car bumping over rocks and ruts. The headlights cut through the darkness, revealing nothing but scrub and the occasional twisted tree.

The road went on longer than I expected. My mother shifted in her seat. ‘Are you sure this is right?’ she asked. The girl didn’t answer. She just smiled.

Finally, we reached a gate. It was a rusted iron gate, half off its hinges, with a sign that read ‘No Trespassing’ in faded letters. Beyond the gate, I could see a house, a dark silhouette against the sky. The girl said, ‘This is it. Thank you.’ She opened the door and stepped out, but before she closed it, she leaned back in and looked at me. ‘Would you like to come inside? My grandmother would love to meet you.’ Her voice was sweet, but her eyes were cold, and I felt a shiver run down my spine.

My mother quickly said, ‘No, thank you. We really must be going.’ I nodded, trying to be polite, but I felt a sense of relief wash over me as the girl closed the door. She walked toward the gate, and as she passed through it, she turned and waved. The wave was too slow, too deliberate, and then she disappeared into the darkness.

My father reversed the car and headed back to the main road. We drove in silence for a while, the only sound the hum of the engine. Then Ben woke up and said, ‘Why did that girl have my watch?’ I looked at him in horror. He was holding his wrist, where his watch had been. It was gone. My father slammed on the brakes. We searched the car, but there was no sign of the watch. And when we looked back down the road, there was no gate. No house. Just empty desert stretching into the night.