Lights Out

The Light at the End of the Tunnel

Maria wished she never took Hanna's shift. She had already worked a double and when Hanna asked, Maria was ready to say hell no and go home. But the sob story of not having a babysitter hit hard and Maria found herself saying yes, instead. She could remember what it was like being a single mom with a full time job. But she assured Hanna it was a one time deal.

And now she wished she never agreed. It was rainy and foggy and the main road was under construction so she had to take the detour through Halt's Tunnel. It was named after Jeremiah Halt, a worker who died setting up the framework back when. His dad was the mayor and wanted to honor his young son, but kids around town have their own story. They say Halt was killed purposefully to cover up his dad's embezzlement charges, and ever since Halt haunts the tunnel. Everyone refuses to go through unless absolutely necessary but of course, Maria didn't believe in all that anyway.

Road signs blocked her lane. 'Construction' blaring from each one, except the one on the end. It was a merge lane sign but it was so late at night there wasn't a guard to direct traffic. Maria said screw it and turned her high beams on; if she went slow, any other car in the lane would see her. She hoped anyway. She kept it below 30 and continued on her way.

About halfway through the tunnel, a bright white light started to grow on the other side. Thinking it was a car, Maria laid on the horn. But as the light continued, she realized it was either a car that didn't care or not a car at all. Maria slammed on the brakes, really unnecessary as her head bounced against the seat, and put the car into reverse. She went much faster this time going backwards, but she couldn't focus on the growing light and watch where she was going.

The tail of the car hit one of the road signs, fishtailing Maria until her back end hit the little sidewalk and her headlights were stuck on a sign. Cursing proficiently, Maria rocked her little car but couldn't get free. She fumbled with the seat belt as the light got brighter and soon it completely enveloped her. Maria put her hands up over her face and waited for impact.

It never came. Instead of a car barreling for her, Maria saw a man in jeans and a plaid shirt standing next to her car door. He was young, maybe mid-twenties, and dirty head to toe, a big gash in his forearm.

"Excuse me? Can you tell me where I am? I think I'm lost." His voice sounded small and scared like a little kid. Maria slowly got out of the car, her eyes peeled for the approaching car in the dark.

"What's your name? Where do you live?"

The man kept his gaze to his mud-stained boots, unwilling to look at her. "I don't know, ma'am. Please, can you help me? Can you take me home? I just want to go home."

His lips trembled and he swallowed continuously. He looked so scared to be alone. "Yeah. Yeah, I'll help you. Get in the car."

Maria opened the back door and then hands were around her neck, squeezing hard enough to make her gasp. Maria turned when he let up but then his hands were back around her throat. She stared into his scared face, watching a drop of drool dangle from those trembling lips.

"I just want to go home. No one comes through here. No one cares about me anymore."

For whatever reason, end of life crisis or low oxygen in her brain, Maria remembered the rest of the legend about Jeremiah Halt. If you stop in the tunnel, never get out of your car. Jeremiah roams the dank afterlife of the tunnel searching for a new life, a new bright light to take him home. Jeremiah would take her soul and go home to her life.

Jeremiah squeezed harder, the pressure exploding in her skull and behind her eyes. Tears trickled down her face as she silently pleaded with the boy to let her go. Please, let her go. But he squeezed until Maria fell to the cold ground, the final thought in her mind a curse on Hanna for not being able to make her shift. And on the construction workers who let the tunnel remain open. Maria wished she never got out of the car.