No Escape Route

Jason tightened his grip on the steering wheel as the GPS directed him farther into the woods. The glowing screen read “3 miles to destination”, but the road ahead was little more than a dirt trail, uneven and lined with gnarled, overhanging branches.

He had already questioned this delivery—it came in just as the pizzeria was about to close, and the address wasn’t on the usual map. But his boss insisted he take it.

“It’s a big tip,” the boss had said. “Trust me.”

Now, as the night grew darker and the forest thicker, Jason wasn’t so sure.

The GPS chimed: “You have arrived.”

Jason frowned. There was no house in sight, just an open clearing surrounded by dense trees. The headlights illuminated a rusted mailbox with no name and a small wooden sign that read “Leave it here” in crude, hand-painted letters.

“Seriously?” he muttered, stepping out of the car with the pizza box. The air was damp and cold, and the forest was eerily silent. No wind, no crickets—just his own breath and the crunch of leaves beneath his shoes.

He set the box on a tree stump near the sign, then turned to leave.

“Wait.”

The voice was low and raspy, coming from the shadows of the trees. Jason froze, his heart racing.

“You’re not done,” the voice continued. “Stay.”

Jason whipped around, but he couldn’t see anyone. The trees loomed like silent sentinels, their shadows shifting unnaturally in the faint moonlight.

“I—I delivered the pizza,” he stammered. “That’s all I was supposed to do.”

A soft laugh echoed from the woods, sending chills down his spine. “Not yet. There’s more.”

Jason climbed back into his car, slamming the door shut. He jammed the key into the ignition, but the engine refused to start. He tried again, his hands trembling. Nothing.

The GPS screen flickered, the map disappearing and replaced by a single message:

“Fulfill the order.”

“What the hell?” Jason whispered.

A soft tapping on the driver’s side window made him jump. He turned slowly, but there was nothing there—just the darkness and the faint outline of trees.

The voice returned, closer now. “Follow the trail.”

Jason’s breath hitched as he spotted a narrow path leading deeper into the forest, marked by faint, glowing lanterns hanging from the branches.

He had no choice. With the car dead and his phone showing “No Signal”, Jason grabbed a flashlight from the glovebox and started down the path.

The lanterns flickered as he walked, casting eerie shadows that seemed to move on their own. The silence was oppressive, broken only by the crunch of his footsteps and the occasional rustle of leaves behind him.

He tried not to look back.

After what felt like hours, Jason reached another clearing. In the center was a rickety wooden table, set with plates, glasses, and candles that burned with a sickly green flame.

A figure sat at the head of the table, its face obscured by a hood. Its hands were long and skeletal, folded neatly in front of it.

“Sit,” the figure commanded.

Jason hesitated, his instincts screaming to run, but his legs carried him to the chair across from the figure.

“You brought the pizza,” the figure said, its voice dripping with malice.

Jason nodded, his throat dry.

“Good. But there’s… something missing.”

“What? No, the order was just one large pepperoni—”

The figure leaned forward, its hood falling back to reveal a face that was wrong—its features were too sharp, its eyes glowing faintly, its mouth stretched into an impossible grin.

“One slice,” it said, its voice almost playful. “Where is it?”

Jason shook his head, panicking. “I—I don’t know! The pizza was whole when I—”

The figure slammed its hand on the table, the plates and glasses rattling. “You ate it.”

“No! I didn’t—”

“You took what wasn’t yours,” it hissed. “Now you must repay.”

The forest seemed to close in, the trees bending unnaturally toward the clearing. Shadows slithered across the ground, circling Jason.

“How?” he whispered.

The figure grinned wider, revealing rows of jagged teeth. “A slice of you will do.”

Jason bolted from the table, running blindly into the woods. The lanterns extinguished one by one, leaving him in total darkness. He stumbled and fell, the sound of the figure’s laughter echoing behind him.

Branches tore at his clothes and skin as he ran, but no matter how far he went, he always ended up back at the table.

The figure waited patiently, its grin never fading. “You can’t leave until the debt is paid.”

Jason’s breath came in ragged gasps as the shadows closed in, their cold tendrils wrapping around his arms and legs.

“Please,” he begged. “I’ll do anything!”

The figure leaned closer, its glowing eyes inches from Jason’s.

“Anything?”

The next morning, a new driver at Midtown Pizza found Jason’s car abandoned near the edge of the forest. The delivery bag was empty, the GPS screen shattered.

No one ever saw Jason again.

But at the edge of the woods, a new sign had appeared, written in crude, blood-red letters:

“Leave it here. One slice short.”