It had been a long weekend at my sister's place, and though I'd cherished every moment,

exhaustion had finally settled into my bones.

Emma and Mason, my two little bundles of restless energy, had been bouncing off the walls all day.

Now, trapped in our cramped sedan, their bickering had

reached a boiling point. Emma, stop touching me, Mason shrieked, his voice shrill enough to make

my temples throb. I'm not even touching you, Emma shot back, her tone equally indignant.

Guys, enough! My voice cracked slightly, betraying my frayed nerves. Taking a deep breath,

I reluctantly signaled and pulled off to the gravel shoulder of the isolated highway, nestled

deep within the Appalachian countryside. The fading daylight cast a murky glow over the dense

forests that line the road, trees standing

like dark sentinels guarding ancient secrets.

Twisting around, I fixed them with my sternest mom stare.

If you two don't settle down right now, there won't be any screens for a week.

Do you understand me?

They fell into sullen silence, and I closed my eyes briefly, pinching the bridge

of my nose to ease the building headache. That was when I noticed it, a soft, distant hum of an

approaching engine. My eyes flickered to the rearview mirror, catching headlights weaving

slowly through the dusk, drawing nearer at an oddly cautious pace.

Instinctively I straightened up, alertness prickling down my spine. The car, an old sedan with a faded

blue paint job, slowed to a stop alongside ours, passenger window lowering with a tired

mechanical whine. Inside sat a middle-aged couple,

their faces illuminated by the dim glow from the dash. The woman leaned slightly toward the open

...