The air inside smelled like old coffee and gasoline, the kind of scent you only find in places where time seems to stand still. The cashier — a middle-aged man with tired eyes and a faded trucker hat — looked up from his newspaper as the two walked in.
Toji leaned an elbow on the counter, his voice calm as ever. "Hey, mind telling us where we are?"
The cashier gave him a puzzled look, then eyed the two of them — dusty jackets, wind-blown hair, that unmistakable "been-on-the-road-too-long" look — and said flatly, "You're in Westford, son."
Tyler blinked, eyes wide. "Wait… Westford?" His voice cracked halfway through the word. "That's like… an hour from Jericho!"
Before he could finish his sentence, Toji let out a deep laugh — the kind that caught even him off guard. He ran a hand through his hair and said between chuckles, "Of course it is. What did you expect? Our average speed was 150 kilometers an hour. You think the bikes were just pretending?"
Tyler stared at him, mouth slightly open, then laughed too, shaking his head in disbelief. "Man, I swear I blinked, and the trees turned into highways."
"Yeah," Toji said, smirking. "Next time, try to breathe while you ride. Helps with the whole staying-aware thing."
Tyler scratched the back of his neck, still smiling sheepishly. "My bad."
Toji gave his shoulder a light tap. "No worries, rookie. Happens to the best of us. Come on — let's grab something to eat, fill the tanks, and head back before the moon decides to snitch on us."
They walked over to the snack aisle, the sound of their boots echoing against the cracked tiles. Tyler picked up a soda, while Toji scanned the shelves like a soldier on a mission. He grabbed two sandwiches, a big bag of chips, and tossed a couple of chocolate bars onto the counter.
As they waited, Tyler glanced at the bikes outside through the window, both machines gleaming in the late afternoon sun. "So… how much does a full tank cost in one of those beasts anyway?"
Toji smirked, sliding the cashier a few bills. "You're better off not knowing."
Tyler groaned. "That bad, huh?"
"Let's just say it's a luxury problem," Toji replied, picking up the bag of food.
Outside, they sat on the bikes, the sun dipping low behind them, casting long shadows across the concrete. Toji tore open a sandwich and passed one to Tyler. For a moment, neither said anything — they just ate, quiet, content, the sound of passing cars mixing with the gentle hum of cooling engines.
It was one of those rare silences that didn't need to be broken — the kind that said we're good right here.
Tyler looked over at Toji, a small grin tugging at his lips. "You know," he said softly, "this might be the best day I've had in a long time."
Toji looked at him for a second, then nodded once. "Yeah," he said. "Me too."
And in that small gas station on the edge of nowhere, two strangers felt something neither had in a long time.
peace
But peace never lingers long for men like them.
As Toji took the last bite of his sandwich, a chill crawled up his spine — that subtle instinct he'd learned never to ignore. The air shifted. It was faint, almost imperceptible, but it felt like the world itself was holding its breath. The hum of the streetlight flickered, then steadied. Somewhere in the distance, a dog began to bark, low and uneasy.
Tyler didn't notice at first. He was laughing at something on his phone, still chewing, still blissfully unaware. Toji's eyes, however, were fixed on the reflection in the gas station window — a shadow at the edge of the parking lot. It moved wrong. Too fluid. Too silent.
He set the sandwich wrapper down slowly. "Tyler," he said, voice low.
Tyler looked up, half-smiling. "Yeah?"
"Get on the bike."
The smile faded instantly. "What's—"
"Now."
Tyler obeyed without another word. Toji's tone didn't invite questions. He kicked the Ducati's stand up and swung onto the seat, his hand resting lightly on the clutch, eyes still scanning the reflection in the glass.
The air grew colder. The gas station lights dimmed for a heartbeat, then flared back to life. Tyler glanced over, nervous energy flickering in his fingers. "You… you seeing something?"
Toji didn't answer immediately. He tilted his head, listening — the way predators do before they strike. Then, in a calm voice that made it worse, he said, "Something's watching us."
A sound came from the tree line behind them — a wet, dragging shuffle. Too heavy for an animal, too deliberate for wind. Tyler froze, throat tightening.
Toji started the engine, its roar slicing through the silence. He looked over his shoulder, eyes like steel. "We're leaving. Don't look back."
Tyler nodded, hand trembling slightly as he revved the Ninja. They shot out of the parking lot, twin streaks of black under a bruised sky.
But as they sped down the empty road, Tyler couldn't help himself. He looked into the side mirror — and saw it.
A figure standing in the middle of the road, long limbs bent in unnatural angles, head tilted back as if scenting the air. Its eyes glowed like dying embers, faint but unmistakably alive.
Tyler's breath hitched. "Toji… what the hell was that?"
Toji didn't respond. His jaw was clenched, eyes hard on the road ahead. But under his breath, just loud enough for the wind to carry, he said one word.
"Wendigo."
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I am quite disappointed as most of the review this fic is getting is negative.it making me doubt if l should continue or not as l can't spend almost two hours every day on this.
So sorry if it was to sudden sorry.