"The Drive" Episode 3

Read all episodes

This episode's votes

Don't be chicken. Too late to turn back now, anyway. I've crossed city boundaries at 3:30 a.m. and I'm determined to know the answer to this riddle. I turn into the parking lot at the entrance she took. I realize I'm holding my breath. I suddenly feel very exposed. It's a fairly large lot and only a few cars are scattered about. The lighting is bad with dim glows from the lot's lamps and several of the store signs, nothing is lit from within. I don't see her white Honda. Maybe if I get a little closer...

I wipe my hands on my PJ pants. The flannel, soft against my clammy skin, makes me wish I was back in my warm bed staring at my alarm clock. A burst of adrenaline tinglies shoot up my spine, reminding me how much I love adventure. I snort.

Rolling past businesses on my right in the L-shaped strip mall, a gap between stores catches my eye. A short corridor divides a dry cleaner and a Sav-On drug store. At the end of it sits the Honda, lights cut, unoccupied. How weird. Where did she go?

Suddenly the car's lights shine directly into my car and blind me for a second. Shit! SHIT! I try to accelerate slowly without lurching forward in panic. I could just be lost, right? Yeah, right. I don't see her in my rear view. I follow the inner perimeter of the stores and exit the lot, turning right. Driving along the back of the mall, I approach a stop sign. Several cars and a bus wait their turns ahead. I breath a sigh of relief.

I reach the intersection and the white Honda is nowhere in sight. A creepy coincidence is all that was, right? I turn right again and put myself on the glorious path home. I don't care if I never sleep again, at least I'll be safe at home. The lights glow green for me three blocks into the drive back. The fourth insists I stop. It's approaching 4 a.m. and the road is peppered with early morning commuters. A man sips from a canister to my left. On my right - oh god. It's her. It's the white Honda. She's looking directly at me and holds a paper against her window. It's got my license plate number written on it in thick black marker.

Decide what happens next by voting in the sidebar poll!

Votes for "The Drive" Episode 2

In response to some requests to know what would have happened, here are the predetermined consequences of the two scenarios plus reader vote tallies:

Question: Does Iris continue following the girl?

"Yes": 7 votes. The girl notices Iris.
"No": 4 votes. Iris is killed by a drunk driver on her way back home.

"The Drive" Episode 2

This is a Puppet Master's post.
Jump to the beginning. See the votes for this episode.


There's something delicious about secrets. The girl has no idea I chose her. She sings and sways to the music, oblivious to my sideways glances. I search my station presets until I find the one she is listening to, matching her lips and motions to the lyrics. Conspiracy certainly is a rush.

The smoking man speeds away as the light blinks green. I delay my own start and let her advance before me. The lady behind turns right. My girl and I travel like this for a few blocks until stopping alongside each other at another red light. My breathing is shallow with excitement. This is easy! I could be a detective.

As we cross the intersection, my newfound confidence and I fall in behind her. "Magic Carpet Ride" plays on our station. My insomnia anxiety has long vanished and a sigh of relief escapes my lips. My mind is clear as a bell. Ding, dong! The witch is dead! I have no idea where that came from. Another red light stops us. The flourescent lights from an all-night pharmacy beam into our cars from the corner store. No other cars are around. I've been following her for nearly 10 minutes. Her eyes flick at me in her rear view mirror. My heart skips.

Paranoia, I say. She can't know what I'm doing. Silly. Right? I'm just another late night driver traveling in the same direction. That's all. Relax. Breathe. I want to laugh. My hands are damp on the steering wheel. "Don't Fear the Reaper", says the stereo. I change the station.

I cut some slack between us, about 10 car lengths. Amazingly, I make every light with her. One, two, three more blocks pass by. I'm in Wilmington now and suddenly feeling far from home. Maybe I should travel parallel again. Should I switch lanes? Before I can decide, she slows and turns into a strip mall on the right without signalling. What could be open at this hour in there?

I should go home. What am I doing in Wilmington following a young girl at 3:30 a.m.? I feel my pocket for my cell phone, just in case; I didn't bring it. That's not reassuring. I should turn around and go home, I know this. But what is she doing in there?

Decide what happens next by voting in the sidebar poll.

Puppet Masters "The Drive" - Post 1

Insomnia can cause madness. I’ve known this for quite some time. Researchers at UC Berkeley agree with me, according to a report released yesterday. “Sleep-deprived people can overreact or behave irrationally, demonstrating a sort of emotional madness”, I read on my laptop at 2:30 a.m. I laugh so hard that my cat leaps off the bed and slides across the wooden floor into the door frame. I think I overreacted.

I keep hearing that laugh in my head, a cackle resonating in my skull. I picture little pieces of my brain breaking off with every shrill sound, like the dust clumps that dislodge when you shake the vacuum filter clean. "I am vacuuming my brain," I say to myself. Another cackle bursts forth followed by a great wheeze for air. The clock chimes three, snatching me back. I lay there feeling the little ring of sharp prickles rippling out from the center of my chest, anxiety stabbing my skin from the inside out. "I’m not going to sleep tonight," I say in flat resignation.

I push the laptop aside, throw the covers back and get up. My body creaks with sounds it shouldn't make at 29. My purple Ugg boots stand at the ready by the nightstand. I like the insulated feeling of sheepskin around my feet. It's comforting. I bundle up in a brown down jacket over my red plaid flannel jammies and catch sight of me in the mirror. How fashionable. I stifle another crazed cackle. I grab my keys from the hook and my big rhinestoned "I" snags my sleave. "I" for insomniac. Iris the Insomniac. Ha! I pat Midnight goodbye. She looks up at me with alarm in her big yellow eyes. “Yes, another aimless drive,” I tell her. I so envy how she'll be asleep again by the time I reach the carport.

I pull out of the drive and begin my route down these familiar streets. Driving in the middle of the night sooths me when I can’t sleep. I like the hum of the engine, the DJ talking to me on the radio. But mostly I like seeing other people on the road. It’s proof I’m not the only one up at this hour.

Other drivers surround me at the first few traffic lights. I often wonder where everyone’s going at 3 a.m. A man smokes in his Camaro next to me. A girl bobs her head and sings to my right. A light fog hangs just above the road. I can see plumes of exhaust rising in the rear view mirror. The driver behind me wears a knit hat. She rubs her nose. Where are these three going? The clock reads 3:17.

I know this is stupid. Maybe I’m so jammed up from not sleeping I can’t think straight. Remember that bit about behaving irrationally? Ugh. I’m choking down another cackle. Whatever the reason, I’m doing it. I’m going to follow someone.

Decide what happens next by voting in the sidebar ~