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The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/Hokons on 2026-05-11 22:50:18+00:00.

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Jake held the bottle with two fingers. The other three rested on the steering wheel. Every bump, they’d lift off, and I waited to see if they'd find their way back. Twice I'd reached for the wheel. Twice Jake had palmed my hand away.

"This isn't drivers ED, mate. Hands off."

"Assholes," I muttered. I checked the map. "There's no road here. It just shows trees."

Malcolm leaned forward, sticking his head between the seats. "They don't always update these things. You think they give a shit what goes on in little old Flockton? Maybe if they'd put a McDonald's here it’d get a road on google maps."

"I could so go for a McGriddle," said Harry. I'd seen him eat four pot brownies in the smoke room with Michelle. I had no idea how much of this he was following.

Jake's free hand kept drifting out the window, cutting through the air. He hadn't seemed this drunk when we left.

"Guys, we didn't drive down a dirt road on our way here," I said.

"Yeah we did," said Harry. "At the house, ey?"

"That was their driveway." I enlarged the map and flipped the phone around for him to see. "That big splotch of trees? That's where the GPS puts us. There's no roads."

"It's the middle of nowhere. Of course there's no roads."

"Precisely, moron."

Jake made a sound—a gurgle-burp. Beer and vodka hit me. His eyes narrowed. "Bankstown? Where the hell is Bankstown? That's the second time I've seen that sign."

The car hit a divot and lurched right. Jake yanked the wheel and the car jerked back. The rear wheels slid, caught on a smooth patch of dirt, and hummed on.

Hadn't we already passed Bankstown? I remembered the sign too. Green and white. Metal. Filthy. I'd been too focused on Jake's driving to clock how far back it was. I returned to the map. If we'd really found an unmarked road, I had no idea where we were going. Deeper, I supposed. Further into the woods. Farther from people.

The car bounced as we hit a root, weeding itself into the dirt. The trees were encroaching on the road now. There was just enough space to pullover and let another car pass. With the window down, the gap was almost small enough for someone to reach out and grab your neck.

One of the trees had fallen over and Jake had to swerve around it. I jostled in my seat, finding the sensation oddly familiar. That’s another tree on the road. There hadn’t been a storm, had there? Autumn had been bone dry, soft far

Harry, somehow finding more alcohol in the backseat, lobbed an empty bottle out the window. It shattered against a metal post.

“Take that, Bankstown!” He flipped off the sign.

I grabbed Harry by the waist and tugged him back inside. A branch racketed off the window, barely missing his head.

“Idiot, you’re gonna take your head off doing that.” I yelled. Then, “Bankstown again? How far away?”

Harry shrugged. “Shwaz all scratched off.”

I tilted my head against the window and looked at the stars. I couldn’t read them, but it felt important to try. Look for the star signs you recognise. Follow the trees which have moss growing on their northern face—or was it south?

"We should stop," I said.

Malcolm caught a sneeze in his elbow. "What? No. It's freezing."

"We're lost. We've been driving on the same road for twenty minutes now. I could see Michelle's house from the main road. Now all I see are trees. Do any of you remember seeing trees?"

"No." Jake wetted his lips. "I don't recall any trees at all."

His face went sharp. He brought his other hand in and turned the wheel. The car slowed to a stop.

Harry opened the door and dropped to his knees in the wet grass. I patted his back. His shoulders hitched, then loosened. Brown, nose-burning puke spilled out.

"Get it all out, mate," I said.

Harry was usually our designated driver. I guess he took the opportunity to make up on all the lost drinks. Malcolm muttered something about people being sick making him sick and walked around to the other side.

"I'm gonna go piss," Malcolm said. He pinched his cardigan shut. "I suggest you all do the same. We're not stopping again."

I waved him off. "Thanks for contributing. Maybe you can read the map if it's so cold."

Jake stayed in the car fiddling with the dashboard. He turned a large dial. "What the hell's wrong with the radio?"

The radio hissed static. I strained to hear anything beneath it—maybe music, maybe a voice. I pushed my hair back and pressed my hand to my forehead. These idiots. All of them assuming I knew how to get them home. I'd never been here before. Jake was Michelle's friend. He should've known the way back.

"You've been here before, haven't you?" I said.

His eyes stayed on the dashboard. "I don't recognise anything. I thought you knew where we were going."

"I've been telling you I don't know where we are. You must have missed a turn. We left by the same gate."

Harry hurled another pint of beer. The radio kept cutting in and out—static, warbled voices, Jake pushing buttons. The motor idled. Cold nipped at my fingertips. I pulled them into my sleeve and sat with the door open, feet on the dirt.

Ahead of us, through the foliage, I could see another sign. The word Bankstown glowed white in the headlights. A long, silver scratch marked its right side. I'd seen that scratch before. Same sign. Same scratch. We were driving in circles.

A flock of birds flew from the tree tops. I buried my face in my hands. Jake and Harry were far too inebriated to help, and Malcolm was Malcolm. Pointing out everything wrong. Never helping. Wandering off on his own to go—

"Woah! Woah! Oh my god!" I jumped to my feet. Malcolm was running back toward the car, pointing behind him. "There's people here. Watching me piss." He dove into the back seat. "Get in. Go. For real—go!"

I grabbed Harry's collar and yanked him into the car. I turned back to the passenger door. Between two trees, the head of an iron axe retreated into the darkness. If it were just leaning there, I'd have assumed it was nothing. But it'd moved. It'd been hidden from view.

Jake disengaged the handbrake. I dropped into my seat and pulled the door shut. Jake floored it and the car lurched forward. The headlights caught a large, naked man with a bag over his head. Just standing there. Just watching us. I laughed—a short and stupid sound. We were on the wrong road, alright. The wrong road entirely.

"Go! Go!" Malcolm shouted.

Harry wriggled in his seat, half passed out. Jake floored it. Harry tumbled to the floor and got himself wedged between the seats. I turned to watch the masked man disappear in the dust. Before it swallowed him, I saw his leg step forward.

I checked the map one more time. It had us in the middle of Yarnsby River. I put my phone away. We just needed to drive. The road would take us somewhere.

"No. Uh-uh, no." Jake ducked toward the windshield. "Bankstown again? That's the same sign. It's the same fucking sign, Callum. Not the same type. The same sign. It's got a scratch on it, did you see?"

"No," I said. I'd seen the scratch. I'd seen it the time before that too. "Keep your eyes on the road."

The radio popped and static filled the car. My hands flew to my ears. Jake scrambled for the volume knob but it just kept spinning. Harry threw up over himself. Malcolm was on his knees at the back window.

"He's still there," Malcolm said. "He's not moving. He just keeps being there. Look—behind the sign."

I watched the Bankstown sign fade into the darkness. For a second, the ground caught the moonlight and a small shard lit up. A piece of a broken beer bottle. Harry stirred in the back. More bottles clicked together.

“Guys,” Jake yelled. Harry started asking what was going on. Malcolm pushed his head away. “Guys. When did we pass under a bridge?”

“We didn’t.” I said, looking out the front. Ahead of us a tall, stone bridge crossed the road. It tunneled through a section of mountain. “That’s new. We haven’t seen that before.”

The car jostled. My phone slid from my pocket.

"Shit." Jake turned the wheel hard.

I was thrown against the window. The car bumped into something and rolled over it. Malcolm screamed that we'd hit someone. Harry hawked phlegm onto the floor mats. My head went light. I didn't realise we'd stopped until Jake's door opened.

Jake's door flew open and he was pulled out. For a moment, I thought good. The cops were here—or a paramedic. Someone must have seen the crash.

"No—no!"

There was a wet crunch. Jake's body dropped. His head hovered where the hand held it. I reached back for the door handle.

Malcolm found his handle first and stumbled out. "We're sorry. We're sorry."

The masked man turned toward him. Malcolm's words broke apart and he ran into the woods. He'd forgotten all about the cold. He didn’t even bother to pick a direction.

I got my door open and dropped onto the dirt.

Behind me, Harry asked. "Mate, we stopped for a pisser, yeah?”

Fwump

Something small and ball shaped rolled against my shoes. I ripped at the roots and pulled myself to my feet. The archway loomed ahead. On the other side, a sign. Not the Bankstown sign. A new sign. Wauchope, 2kms on.

My knees ached from the crash. My face felt hot and puffy where it’d hit the airbag. I broke into a run.

“Sombody, help!”

The axe scraped on the pavement. Like he was spelling it out to me. I hit the tunnel’s shadow. Entered its cool darkness. The headlights cast shadows on the wall. Both of ours.

I heard another fwump.

The back of my neck split open. Heat trickled down my back. I...

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