It was the last official day of vacation, and Lief had decided that, after all the chaos, he deserved a day of total relaxation.
The morning dawned perfect for it. Sunlight fell on the quiet neighborhood, covering everything with that golden veil that makes the world look freshly painted.
Lief walked out and headed to the entrance of his garage, where his new motorcycle was waiting.
It wasn't just any motorcycle; it was Fenrir. A futuristic beast of black metal and silver details that looked more like a siege weapon than a transport vehicle.
It was low, aggressive, and absolutely ridiculous for a residential neighborhood.
Lief swung a leg over it, feeling the leather seat beneath him welcome him. It felt less like getting on a bike and more like docking into a fighter cockpit.
He gripped the handlebars, turned the key, and hit the ignition.
The engine didn't just start, it exploded to life with a roar that made the ground vibrate and likely set off car alarms on the next two streets.
He twisted the throttle just a bit, and the engine barked in response, a sound that promised absurd speed.
"Let's go for a ride," he muttered. He put on his sunglasses, and with a final twist of the throttle, Fenrir shot forward like a surface-to-air missile, disappearing down the street in a black blur.
The feeling of pure speed was instantaneous and intoxicating.
It was a wave of adrenaline that completely swept away the tension and accumulated fatigue of the last few days. The wind roared against him with a sharp whistle, and the trees and suburban fences became a blurred streak.
This was the unbridled freedom, the raw energy that a guy his age was supposed to feel.
He headed west, with no real destination in mind, chasing the horizon and the promise of a true road trip.
However, as always, all good things must come to an end.
He was flying at top speed down a winding mountain road, deep in West Virginia, enjoying the tight curves. Just as he leaned into a perfect turn, the smile on his face instantly froze.
Exiting the curve, he was met with an endless line of red brake lights.
That's right, a traffic jam. In the middle of nowhere. And judging by the number of stopped cars, people outside their vehicles, and the chaotic scene stretching as far as he could see, it was clear he wouldn't be moving anywhere for a long, long time.
Lief let out a frustrated huff as his gaze swept the roadside, and of course, there it was: a small, barely visible dirt path that disappeared between the trees.
Nailed crookedly to a pole at the entrance, a sign clearly warned: "NO TRESPASSING."
However, Lief narrowed his eyes. Although the path was narrow, it didn't look impassable.
He weighed it for a second.
Getting stuck in this traffic jam for hours, or taking a shortcut clearly marked as a bad idea.
After all, he wasn't just any driver on just any motorcycle. A small detour shouldn't be a big problem.
He turned Fenrir's handlebars, pulling the bike off the asphalt.
He advanced slowly onto the forbidden trail. The motorcycle's massive wheels crushed the damp earth and dry leaves, emitting a satisfying crunch that was the only sound breaking the silence of the forest.
Sunlight filtered through the dense treetops, falling on the path in patches.
He hadn't been driving for ten minutes when, after rounding a sharp bend, the forest opened up. Before him appeared a lonely gas station, straight out of a nightmare.
The place was falling apart. Large pieces of faded paint hung from the walls, revealing the rotten wood underneath. The fuel pumps were statues of rust, forgotten by time.
And on the porch, sitting in a dilapidated rocking chair, was an old man.
He wore faded overalls that were almost gray, and he held a shotgun across his lap with an unsettling naturalness. His head swayed slightly with the rocking motion, half-asleep from boredom.
Fenrir's deep roar broke that stagnant tranquility, startling the old man awake.
He slowly opened his eyes, and when his sight focused on the newcomer, he was paralyzed.
He had lived in those hills his whole life and had seen all kinds of strange people, but never, ever, had he seen a young man who looked like that.
The "Goddess's Blessing" in action. Lief's face, under the dappled light of the forest, looked like a masterpiece; every line of his face was in a perfect harmony that was unnatural in that decrepit setting.
The old man's cloudy eyes widened, his mouth moving without making a sound, completely forgetting the shotgun on his lap.
Lief, feeling the fixed gaze, gave him a nod.
He took off his sunglasses, his gaze now deeper and more intense thanks to the blessing, and began to scan the surroundings.
His attention stopped at a yellowed map hung on the gas station wall. On the map, a secondary road was marked with a thick red marker.
That line looked like a diseased vein, stretching toward an unknown destination deep in the mountains.
Seeing all this—the gas station in the middle of nowhere, the old man, and this map with a red route.
His mouth curved into a smile full of amusement. This wasn't a shortcut; it was the beginning of "Wrong Turn."
It seemed that this road trip, which had started as a quiet day, was destined to be anything but boring.
Lief said no more, simply put his sunglasses back on, and without the slightest doubt, turned Fenrir's handlebars and accelerated directly onto the red-marked dirt road on the map.
"..."
The old man watched the retreating figure, his lips moving, as if he wanted to shout a warning, but in the end, seeing the confidence with which the young man entered the trap, he simply let out a helpless sigh and closed his eyes.
Fenrir proved to be an absolute beast. The rough mountain road was a mere inconvenience.
The advanced suspension absorbed the bumps as if they didn't exist, and the powerful engine roared loudly, propelling the bike between the trees as if flying.
Very soon, after rounding a sharp curve, Lief hit the brakes.
The show had begun.
The road was blocked by a pile of scattered car parts, the shattered remains of a violent crash. To one side, gleaming in the filtered sunlight, was a puddle of blood, still fresh enough to look sticky.
'Just in time for the party,' he thought. It was clear that someone had already had the worst luck.
He stopped the bike, and with a simple thought, the Fenrir dematerialized, returning to the system space.
Lief raised his head and looked at the dense canopy of leaves above him.
With a slight push, his body shot upward like an arrow, slicing through the streaks of golden light until he was firmly suspended above the treeline.
From that height, the view was perfect.
The forest stretched out like a map, and it didn't take him long to locate the target.
Less than a kilometer away, he saw two men and two women desperately making their way through the undergrowth.
Their movements were frantic, as if something terrible was chasing them. Their faces, even at that distance, were pure fear, constantly looking behind them as if something was hot on their heels.
And, not far behind them, that "something" became visible.
An old pickup truck was barreling forward, knocking down trees and charging out of control.
Standing on the truck were three grotesquely deformed figures. One of them waved a dripping axe. Another let out a strident, bloodcurdling laugh. The third, the driver, had only one functional eye, and that eye glowed with a bloodthirsty light.
Lief remained suspended in the air, calmly observing the classic deadly pursuit unfolding beneath him.
He remembered this part perfectly.
He recognized the group running away.
The one in front must be Chris, the medical student who had taken this "shortcut" to get to an interview. The other three, Jessie, Carly, and Scott, were just poor souls who had gone camping and whose trip had just turned into a nightmare.
"What a classic start," Lief murmured, touching his chin. Far from feeling the slightest tension, what he felt was simple amusement.
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