The Black Church
Some dares don't end when you drive away.
They called it Devil’s Bridge. A covered span, timber and iron. The road beyond wound into the trees and ended at the burned husk of the Black Church.
The dare was simple. Park on the bridge. Kill the engine. Roll the windows down. Yell for the cultists. If they answered, you drove.
Leah had the wheel. Mitch’s Pontiac rattled onto the planks. The Doyle brothers muttered in the back seat. The bridge boxed in the headlights. A narrow tunnel of wood and dust.
Leah cut the ignition. The engine ticked as it cooled.
“Do it,” Mitch whispered.
Leah leaned out. The air smelled like creosote. She yelled the words. “Come out, Satan’s children!”
Timbers settled. For a moment, nothing. Then her own voice came back. Flat. Metallic. A recording played a beat too slow.
The Doyles laughed. “Echo,” one said.
Gravel crunched. Tires. Far away. Closing distance.
Headlights flared at the far end of the bridge. High beams. White and steady.
Leah twisted the key. The Pontiac coughed. Caught. She slammed the gas. Wood boomed under the tires. The headlights followed. They filled the cabin with white light.
Mitch cursed. The Doyle boys shouted. The radio spat static. Then laughter. Their laughter. Warped and tinny. It repeated back at them.
Leah flicked her eyes to the rearview. The headlights bleached the mirror white. Between the beams, the hood ornament: CAITNOP.
She pressed the gas. She didn’t look again.
The car behind matched every turn. Every swerve. The noise fed back to her half a second late. The church appeared. Black ribs against the sky.
They skidded to a stop. The headlights behind them flared once. Cut out.
A click. Like a tape deck engaging. Faint voices spilled out from the ruins. She heard screaming. A second later, she heard her name.
The boys yelled at her to go. The Pontiac fishtailed back onto the road.
***
She woke tangled in sheets. Throat raw. Morning sunlight hit the blinds. Outside, a sprinkler hissed.
A dream.
She pressed her palms to her eyes until colors burst. She forced herself to the window.
The car sat in the driveway. Dew shone on the hood.
The ornament caught the morning light. CAITNOP.
It wasn’t a reflection. The metal was stamped that way.
Leah leaned closer. Her breath fogged the glass. The seats were shadowed. Empty. Dry leaves covered the passenger floor.
THE END
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