I remember the static hum of the radio in the background while we talked.

The volume
was turned down to around 10 and we were so far out that the antenna only picked up static.
You could hear faint voices talking to one another. One was an older man, probably discussing
politics or something to that effect. The other was a bland voice, most likely the host, agreeing
with whatever the interviewee was discussing. This was the kind of programs you only pick up
on an AM station. Then that made me think; does anyone really push the button to listen to the
AM stations? I had never listened to the AM, just the FM every time. I thought to myself…

If I ever get out of this, I’m going to listen to the AM stations for once.

I also remembered how cold it was in the car. It’s late fall, and the heating unit doesn’t
work, hasn’t for a long time. I wasn’t concerned about the heat at that time. I was concerned
with Laura and the horrible night she was having before I whisked her away in my car and
started on that late drive to nowhere. This wasn’t the first time I’ve had to sweep her away and
take her mind off of everything for a couple of hours. She would get herself into these
situations, these predicaments that other people seem to stay away from. She seemed to like
these situations. Sometimes I thought that she purposely threw herself into these problems just
to take these drives, just to throw caution to the wind and ride away with me into the night, not
knowing where we are going and forgetting that the world even existed for those couple of
hours on the road. Tonight was one of those nights and I had just arrived to pick her up from
her home. I remember glancing at the clock as I waited on the curb, looking toward the front
door. 2:00 a.m.

I tapped my thumb impatiently on the steering column. We had just previously had one
of these nights the night before last. She had called me crying and sobbing in the worst way and
in that instant I grabbed my keys and headed for the door. It really wasn’t a question of
whether I was coming to get her anymore, it was just in agreement that I was already in my car
and headed to her after I received the phone call. I also stopped giving my two cents when she
entered the vehicle. The first time I had ever picked her up on a night like this, I believe it was
summer, the first words that left my mouth were

“Why would you put yourself in a situation like that?”

It made things worse. Bigger tears, tears that even the current situation going on in her
life hadn’t made her cry, burst out when I asked her a question like that. Needless to say, I
stopped asking questions and stopped giving advice. She just wanted to forget, and I learned
that over the years.

Finally, I saw the door burst open. She slammed it behind her and placed her key in the
dead-bolt lock above the doorknob. She struggled with the key for a moment and then turned
toward the car, placing the keys into her purse. She had her head down most of the walk to the
car and almost mid-way she looked up at me, pulling the strand of hair that had fallen into her
eyes while locking the door up over her forehead. She smiled at me. But not one of those real
smiles that show all of your teeth giving credit to the American Dental Association. But an all lip
smile that said “I know you hate me, and I’m sorry”.

If I was right, and that is what her smile was saying, she was wrong. I could never hate
my best friend over anything. Besides, I had grown accustomed to this late night drive, and I
myself probably couldn’t go without it at this point. She pulled the door handle, swinging the
door open in one motion. As she slid into the passenger seat, she threw her purse into the back
floorboard where it joined the company of dirty clothes, garbage, and an array of fast food
cups.

“It’s so good to see you…” She told me, as she placed her head on the headrest and sunk
back into her seat closing her eyes.

At this point I had lit up a cigarette and was angling it out the window to keep the smoke
away.

“Where are we off to tonight?” I asked, flicking the ash off of my cigarette.

“Nowhere. Just drive.” She said, looking up at me.

The typical answer I was looking for as I placed the car in gear and pulled off of the curb.
It was black out, the street lights weren’t even giving off light at this point. I thought about what
direction to drive in. Normally when I found myself with nowhere to go I would drive out
toward the lake, on what seemed like an endless stretch of road that curled through the thick
pine that surrounded the area. That’s what I had set my mind on. We sat in silence for a couple
of miles. I tossed my cigarette out the window and rolled it up.

“Thanks for coming.” Laura said, in a quick sentence.

I could tell she had wanted to spit that out for the couple of miles we sat there in
silence. She was squirming around in her seat like she was nervous, and didn’t want to discuss
the prior events that led up to this moonlit drive through the lake roads. She had been shooting
me quick glances, and then staring back down at her feet until she urged that sentence to leave
her lips.

“Any time.” I answered, with that sense of comfort in my voice that made her feel like I
really meant what I had just said. And I did mean it.

She just smiled and cocked her head to one side as she always did when thanking me for
rescuing her. Little did she know was that she should be sorrier for this time than the other
times. This particular time was much worse than the tears she had shed those other nights. On
this night I could almost guarantee she would much rather be placed back into what horrible
night she was having prior to this moment, and I be placed back into the comfort of my own
home, rather than lying in piles of dead leaves and brush.

That gratitude for me picking her up seemed too had broken the ice and she began to
start talking like she always had. She began to ramble on about her day at work, and the same
stories of the people there, and how they’ve gotten on her nerves, day in and day out. The
same dry, mind-numbing stories that anyone wants to get out of their head and pass onto the
first person they see. I think they tell these stories so they feel as if it’s not trapped in their own
head and it doesn’t torture and drive them crazy. I continued driving further from civilization,
further away from Laura’s problems and closer to a terror that would make the dozens of
Laura’s bad nights seem like children’s birthday parties at the age of seven. I turned the radio
up a bit, not to actually listen to the music, but have it playing softly in the background. I almost
broke the code I set for myself and asked her what had happened tonight but I quickly caught
myself. I don’t know what came over me, why that question would rest on my tongue, on the
verge of escaping my lips. I instead said

“How bout’ them Yankees?” Clever, huh?

Before she could answer, the monotonous “ding” and the glowing light in the shape of a
gas can flashed before us.

“Damn.” I said.

“We’ll find a place to fill up, no worries.” Laura said calmly.

By this time we had passed the old green sign that projected the words LANTON LAKE in
bold black lettering, weathered of course. The road to the lake would curve off to the left while
the road to the next town, Beachmont, curved off to the right. Beachmont would be at least
five or six more miles away. I wasn’t worried; I knew we wouldn’t run out of gas. I was worried
for Laura’s sake however, she scared rather easily. I could see it now, having to calm her down,
tell her to breathe, and that everything was going to be ok. It seemed to be much different than
how I pictured it later on down the road.

When everything began to calm down again and I veered right toward Beachmont, we
sat in silence for a few more minutes. I began to wonder if we’ll be taking another drive like this
a couple nights from now, and if so will my gas light come on again? Or will I have enough sense
to at least fill up half of the tank before I pick her up. I hated when I heard that obnoxious noise.
Driving with the gas light on puts so much pressure on the driver. It’s a race to the pumps, the
winner receives a full tank of gas while the loser watches, stranded on the side of the road. I
always found myself in the winner’s circle, however. I was positive I wasn’t going to run out of
gas, I had never run out before and I didn’t plan on it now. Laura began to talk again. But this
time it wasn’t about her mundane days at work full of ignorant people, it was about how
miserable she had become. I was listening to her more sharply now than when she had been
complaining about how she hates when her food gets cold on her lunch break a couple miles
back. This was because Laura never felt the need to tell me anything like this before.

“I really am sorry.” She said, in a low whisper.

“Why are you sorry, Laura?” knowing exactly what she was apologizing for.

“For dragging you out like this almost every night.”

“You know I don’t care. You’re my best friend and besides, I’m actually enjoying myself.”

She smiled and shook her head “I know, but trust me, this will be the last drive we’ll
have for a while.”

I smiled back in a sense to comfort her once more. I figured she was lying. I had heard
this a couple times before, but this time it actually seemed that this may in fact be our last drive
for a while.

While we continued talking I couldn’t help but notice the radio wasn’t producing sounds
of familiar songs from the classic rock station. Instead it was spitting out sporadic streams of
static complete with mindless chatter filling in the empty holes. The roads were getting
narrower and it may have been my mind playing tricks on me but I could have sworn it was
getting darker as well. We were coming up on the sharp curves. There were three of them. The
first one turned sharply to the right. I clutched the wheel and began pulling in that direction. I
could see Laura’s head pressed up against the glass of the window, gravity giving her no say in
the matter. It seemed as though we were in that curve so long that I could actually see the tail
lights of my car flashing red. The curve finally straightened out and Laura was shifted back into
her original position.

Now it was a straight stretch until the next curve. I was picking up a little speed. The
trees were flashes of green and black blurs, like looking at an abstract watercolor. The gas light
was making its rounds again, “ding ding ding.” The car was crying out to me at this point,
making sure I heard the monotonous drone. If I were to take my seatbelt off the car would be
playing a nice medley. I began to slow back down again, the next curve was coming up and it
would be much like the first one.

“You think we’re going to make it.” Laura said, over the continued static from the radio
and patches of dings from the gas light.
 “We’re going to make it. I’ve never ran out of gas before.”

Right about the time I said that I remember my stomach dropping into what seemed like
my seat. If it were possible, my stomach was nestled right in between my legs. My heart began
to race, moving at the speed of my car. My mouth gaped open, joining my stomach in the spot
between my legs. I couldn’t make my head turn to see Laura and her reaction, but in that
moment I didn’t care what her reaction was, I didn’t care about anything at that moment. I was
terrified, that’s not the word for it, petrified. My eyes were glued to the car, that ghastly car
that was stationed in the second curve.

I can’t remember what the car was. I looked right at it and for the life of me I can’t
remember what kind of car it was. I thought over and over to myself as some dead leaves
tickled the tip of my chin.

It wasn’t the car that had petrified me though. It was what was inside that turned me
inside out and added another passenger to the vehicle (my stomach), and made me question
anything I’ve ever seen before. The windows were rolled down in the vehicle I couldn’t
remember. The inside of the vehicle was dark, except for the beam of my headlights reflecting
off the road and shining in intrusively. This was the part where my heart could have stopped,
along with the time. The lights flashed on inside the car. It reminded me of the blinding flash
from school picture day, grades 1-12, and how they sat you on that stool and told you to smile
when in reality you were bracing yourself for that hideous, pupil dilating flash. It was as if that
was the spotlight, signifying the main event. And there she was. The first thing I remember
about her was her charcoal black hair falling down to her shoulders. Her face…

Her face. I couldn’t remember her face either. Just like the damned car. Why couldn’t I
remember her face? I thought to myself, and then I remembered… She didn’t have a face!

From her forehead where her black hair parted, down to the tip of her chiseled chin,
there was nothing there. Just like looking at an empty white canvas before an artist touches a
brush to it. This was the point I could have almost fell to tears. This was the point where I think
my heart leapt out of my gaping mouth and joined my stomach in the seat. How can someone
have no face? I searched so hard looking for eyebrows, eyes, a nose, something! There was
nothing. And although we were looking at a faceless woman, I could feel her staring at us,
wanting something from us. We continued past the faceless entity and the car I couldn’t place
in my memory. We were approaching the second straight stretch, now at a faster pace.

“Did you see that?!” I screamed, looking over at Laura.

I hadn’t looked at Laura the whole duration of the second curve, I almost felt a little
guilty. I knew what her reaction was going to be before I ever looked over at her. She was
crying those big tears, tears even worse than the time I asked her why she put herself in the
situations she put herself in. She had stared into the void of what was the woman’s face, just as
I did, feeling her stare right through us. The dings fired back up again from the gas light. I paid
no attention this time. My attention was captured rather quickly by something else however.
Something horrible. Headlights beamed through the rear window and splashed onto the dash
like sudden daylight. Well there is nothing wrong with her car I thought to myself. A quick
snippet of humor in a horrible situation, trying to soothe my nerves. It didn’t work. It was like
she was waiting on us. She knew that Laura was having another one of her bad nights and that
around 2:30 a.m. we were going to roll around that second curve and meet her there. I was
hoping that Laura wouldn’t really notice the beams of light behind us, but by the sounds of her
crying even harder and louder I figured she had.

The lights were closer now, close enough to bump the back-end of my car and slide us
slightly to the left a bit. There was no question, it was the crazed faceless monster we had came
across at the curve. She wants us dead now. I searched my rearview mirror; all I could see were
the beaming bright lights of the demon car. She bumped us once more and again sent us sliding
to the left. The road was narrow; I could feel my tires gripping the dirt off-road with each slide.
Laura was crying louder than ever now and there was nothing I could say or do to stop her. I
just gripped the steering wheel and continued to press the gas pedal, increasing speed. The
headlights followed my pace closely. The next curve would be coming up in a matter of
seconds. I braced myself, knowing that at this speed I wasn’t going to be able to make that
hairpin turn. I looked over at Laura just enough to notice she didn’t have her seatbelt on.

“Seatbelt!” I screamed, as I unbuckled mine to reach over and buckle hers.

I remember the sound of the “no seatbelt” warning accompanying the gas light indicator
and the static from the radio. All it took was one more bump from the faceless monster to send
us off the road and airborne. The road dramatically dropped off around 15 feet. I don’t
remember landing. I don’t remember being ejected from the car. I could see the car,
somewhat, from where I was lying. The headlights were shining through the forest, illuminating
the trees while they were supposed to be sleeping. I was lying in piles of dead leaves and brush,
staring up into the darkness. I could hear shrill cries coming from the car. It was definitely
Laura. Every time I poked my head up a little to glance at the car I couldn’t see anything but the
bright headlights shining, blocking any view I had. I realized when I opened my eyes that I also
couldn’t move my legs. I must have been paralyzed, or that’s what I gathered lying here. It was
so cold, colder than it had ever been in the car without heat. I was wearing a thin jacket with
pockets on each side. I looked to my left and saw the pack of cigarettes that I had in one pocket.
They were all splayed out among the box like pick-up-sticks. I positioned my head again, this
time looking back up at the night sky appearing in the patches where the tree branches couldn’t
hide it. In the midst of hearing Laura scream and possibly fighting off the faceless creature from
the curve I began to think of a story Laura had told me she heard at work a while back. She was
in the break room, she had told me, where the other employees gathered to share stories in
their pathetic attempt to pass the 15 minutes they had in there. It was the same dry, mind-
numbing conversations that Laura was having with me in the car. As my eyes gradually opened
and closed, I remembered the story she had shared with me from that day.

She was just going way too fast and lost control of her car. The story went. She came
too fast upon that curve and turned the wheel too sharp and flipped it right over the ridge. They
didn’t find her until a week later, by that time she was dead. They say that when you come
around that curve and you see her there, she just wants you to stop and help. If you don’t help
her though, she’s not going to let you go…

It’s funny that I remembered that story in this state. I never really listened when I heard
stories like that. They never mattered to me until now. I couldn’t really see myself stopping and
helping the faceless woman. I had never talked to a dead person before, unless saying my
goodbyes at a funeral, and I didn’t want to start now. Laura was still screaming every breath she
could take and I was feeling miserable because I couldn’t help her this time. I couldn’t come to
her rescue like the times before, where I would whisk her away into the night, leaving all of her
problems behind. They finally caught up to her; we realized that night that we couldn’t run
away.

Laura finally stopped screaming and all you could hear was the cold October wind
rushing through the branches, knocking dead leaves to the ground. She had killed Laura. She
had put Laura out of her misery. That’s all I could gather from her sudden silence. My thoughts
were racing. Bombardments of different things were trickling through my mind as I lay there in
a pile of leaves, as if I’d just jumped in them after someone had raked them up to bag. I thought
about how I hadn’t run out gas, but this was a far cry from sitting in the winner’s circle. I
thought about Laura, and how she told me she was miserable right before we saw The Faceless.
I also thought about wanting to smoke one last cigarette but I couldn’t reach for them and I had
probably lost my lighter anyway. I closed my eyes again, feeling the chill of the wind crash
against my face. I thought if I ever get out of this, I’m going to listen to the AM stations for once.