The Delivery

I took a wrong turn because Google Maps went silent. The road narrowed. Trees leaned in

like they were listening. I saw a family van stopped ahead. Hazard lights blinking. A man waved.

Smiling too wide. “Phone’s dead,” he said. “Can you help?” I noticed the scratches

on the road—long, dragged marks—leading into the forest. I locked my doors. He knocked anyway.

Behind him, the trees moved. I reversed fast… and hit something. A body.

Still warm. My phone buzzed back to life. A notification popped up:

“ROUTE UPDATED: You have arrived.” The man stopped smiling. Because I realized

the truth. This road wasn’t a trap. I was the delivery.