The Welcome to another edition of fuel creeps and peepers, the first of 2025.

Hope you've had a good holiday season.

I'm Dan Cummins and I'll be sharing another original short story of the fictional horror variety. Highly recommend noise cancellation headphones for the best experience.

Today's story is a continuation of the previous two nightmare fuels. Thank you for all the

feedback and encouragement. Will there be even more storm episodes down the road? You'll have to

listen to find out. Hope you enjoy this new nightmare.

Time now for the tale of the storm, Chapter 3, anew.

Rent's been driving their stolen, lifted tundra south on Highway 95 for almost an hour.

He's begrudgingly and reluctantly

accepted that their incredibly strange and terrifying detour into the arc was ultimately a good thing.

If they hadn't had their range rover wrecked by Noah's Spike's trip, they'd probably all be

dead by now. In all his preparation for his family's do-or-die-tripped to

Whitebird, Brent couldn't believe he hadn't thought of how important it would be for them to

disguise their vehicle and make it look like something one of the red eyes would drive. Just like they

had their own vernacular that they used to help identify who else was one of them and who wasn't,

they also had various visual identifiers.

It was the way they dressed, so consistently strapped up, so frequently covered in tactical gear,

and sometimes also going for Mad Max apocalyptic look,

and their vehicles were spray painted with, We Are the Storm, and Am the Lion type messages or adorned with various

conspiratorial slash revolutionary flags or both. To be driving a truck that belonged to one of the

red eyes whom Noah had killed had allowed Brent, his wife, kids and Riannon, Noah's former hostage

and teen bride, to travel from Noah's Ark Doomsday compound,

...