THE LAST PASSENGER

The Passenger in the Storm

The rain had been falling for almost three hours when Ethan Cole realized there was someone standing in the middle of the road.

He hit the brakes.

The taxi slid across the wet pavement before stopping less than a meter from her.

Ethan gripped the steering wheel tightly, his heart pounding.

For a few seconds, he could only stare through the windshield.

The woman did not move.

She stood beneath the weak yellow glow of a streetlamp, completely drenched. Her dark hair hung over her face, and water streamed from the bottom of her long black coat.

Ethan glanced at the clock on the dashboard.

1:17 a.m.

“Jesus.”

He looked around.

The road was almost completely deserted.

No pedestrians.

No other cars.

Just rain, darkness, and the woman standing in front of his taxi as though she had been waiting for him.

Ethan slowly lowered the window.

“Are you alright?”

The woman lifted her head.

She didn’t answer.

“Miss?”

Still nothing.

Ethan felt an uncomfortable chill move down his spine.

He had been driving taxis for almost six years. In that time, he had picked up nearly every kind of passenger imaginable. He had driven businessmen who talked too much, couples who argued throughout the journey, tourists who got lost, people rushing to hospitals and strangers who simply wanted somewhere quiet to disappear to.

But he had never picked up someone who looked at him the way this woman did.

Like she already knew him.

The woman finally walked toward the taxi.

Ethan unlocked the rear door.

She opened it and climbed inside.

The door shut.

Ethan rolled up his window and looked at her through the rearview mirror.

She was sitting directly behind him.

Her clothes were soaked, but strangely, she wasn’t shivering.

Her face was pale.

Not the ordinary kind of pale that came from being cold.

There was something almost lifeless about her complexion.

Ethan looked away.

“Where are you heading?”

The woman stared through the window.

“Blackwood Hotel.”

Her voice was soft.

Ethan frowned.

“Blackwood?”

“Yes.”

“That’s quite a distance from here.”

“I know.”

He started the taxi again.

The tires moved through the flooded road as the windshield wipers struggled to keep up with the rain.

Ethan adjusted the heating.

“You’re going to freeze sitting there like that.”

She didn’t respond.

He glanced at her through the mirror.

She was watching the rain.

“Are you meeting someone at the hotel?”

“No.”

“Do you have a room?”

“Yes.”

Her answers were short.

Ethan decided to leave her alone.

He turned on the radio.

A news presenter was talking about the storm, warning drivers to avoid several flooded roads across London.

Ethan listened for a moment before lowering the volume.

The woman suddenly spoke.

“Have you ever been to Blackwood Hotel?”

Ethan glanced at her reflection.

“A few times.”

“Do you know the entrance at the back?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

There was something strange about the way she said it.

Ethan looked at the road.

“Why?”

She didn’t answer.

“Is there another entrance you want me to use?”

“No.”

“Then why ask?”

The woman remained silent.

Ethan sighed.

He wasn’t sure whether she was frightened or simply strange.

He continued driving.

Several minutes passed.

Then the woman leaned forward slightly.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Do you believe people can disappear without anyone noticing?”

Ethan laughed nervously.

“That sounds like the beginning of a horror movie.”

She didn’t laugh.

“I am serious.”

Ethan’s smile disappeared.

“I don’t know.”

“You should.”

“Why?”

She looked at him through the mirror.

“Because sometimes people disappear long before anyone realizes they’re gone.”

Ethan stared at her reflection.

Something about her words bothered him.

Before he could respond, lightning flashed across the sky.

For a fraction of a second, the entire car was illuminated.

Ethan saw her face clearly.

Her eyes were wide.

Terrified.

He quickly looked back at the road.

“Are you running from someone?”

“No.”

“Are you in trouble?”

A pause.

“Yes.”

Ethan slowed slightly.

“What kind of trouble?”

The woman looked toward the window.

“The kind you shouldn’t get involved in.”

Ethan frowned.

“Then why are you telling me?”

She didn’t answer.

The silence inside the taxi became uncomfortable.

Ethan reached for the radio again.

Before he could turn it on, the woman spoke.

“I need you to promise me something.”

Ethan looked at her through the mirror.

“What?”

“Don’t look at me.”

He blinked.

“What?”

“Until we arrive.”

Ethan almost laughed.

“I’m sorry?”

“Don’t look at me.”

“I have to check the mirror while driving.”

“Then don’t look directly at me.”

Ethan frowned.

“Why?”

The woman swallowed.

“Because if you look at me before we arrive, something will happen.”

He stared at her.

“What exactly?”

She shook her head.

“You don’t want to know.”

Ethan gave a nervous laugh.

“Okay. That’s officially the strangest thing a passenger has ever said to me.”

“Please.”

Her voice broke.

That single word changed something.

She wasn’t joking.

She was genuinely afraid.

Ethan looked at the road.

“Fine.”

“Promise me.”

He sighed.

“I promise.”

The woman leaned back.

“Thank you.”

Ethan didn’t know why, but he suddenly felt as though he had just agreed to something he would regret.

The taxi continued through the storm.

The city seemed different at that hour.

Buildings stood like dark shadows behind the rain. Streetlights reflected across the flooded roads. Most of the shops were closed, their windows dark and empty.

Ethan checked the navigation.

Twenty minutes to Blackwood Hotel.

He sighed.

He had been planning to finish his shift early.

His mother had called him three times that evening, asking when he would come home.

He had ignored the calls.

He knew she would complain when he eventually returned.

Margaret always complained when he worked late.

“You can’t keep driving around London at two in the morning,” she had told him countless times.

Ethan smiled faintly at the memory.

His mother worried too much.

But she was the only person who did.

His sister Maya had moved out two years ago and rarely came home unless there was an occasion.

Ethan had gotten used to being alone.

He didn’t mind it.

At least, that was what he told himself.

A soft sound interrupted his thoughts.

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

Ethan frowned.

He looked at the dashboard.

Nothing.

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

The sound came again.

From the back seat.

Ethan’s fingers tightened around the steering wheel.

“Are you okay?”

No answer.

He glanced toward the rearview mirror, then remembered his promise.

He quickly looked away.

“Ma’am?”

Silence.

The tapping stopped.

Ethan swallowed.

He turned the radio on.

Static filled the car.

He changed the station.

More static.

He turned it off.

The car became completely silent.

Then the woman whispered something.

Ethan couldn’t hear her.

“What did you say?”

Nothing.

He looked toward the mirror again.

Only for a second.

He saw the woman’s hair.

Her face was hidden.

Ethan quickly looked away.

A cold sensation moved through his chest.

The temperature inside the taxi seemed to have dropped.

He turned the heating higher.

“Almost there.”

No response.

The rain became heavier.

The road ahead was almost impossible to see.

Ethan slowed down.

His eyes moved between the road and the navigation screen.

Three minutes.

Then two.

He felt relieved.

Whatever was wrong with the woman, he would soon be rid of it.

Then he noticed something.

A handprint.

On the rear passenger window.

Ethan stared at it.

The print was on the inside.

His stomach tightened.

He looked at the mirror.

The woman was still sitting there.

Or at least he thought she was.

Her body was almost completely hidden in darkness.

“Ma’am?”

Nothing.

Ethan swallowed.

“Are you still awake?”

No response.

He wanted to turn around.

He wanted to see her.

But he had promised.

One minute.

He could wait one minute.

He turned the final corner.

Blackwood Hotel appeared ahead.

The large building stood behind iron gates, its windows glowing faintly against the darkness.

Ethan pulled into the driveway.

“We’re here.”

Silence.

He turned off the engine.

Rain hammered against the roof.

Ethan waited.

“Ma’am?”

Nothing.

He looked at the rearview mirror.

The seat behind him was empty.

Ethan froze.

He turned around.

Nobody.

His heart began beating faster.

“No.”

He looked at the door.

It was locked.

The windows were closed.

There was nowhere she could have gone.

He climbed out of the driver’s seat and opened the rear door.

Cold air rushed into the taxi.

The seat was empty.

Ethan looked beneath it.

Nothing.

He checked the other side.

Nothing.

“Where did you go?”

He stepped away from the taxi and looked around the driveway.

The hotel entrance was only a few meters away.

There was nowhere for her to disappear to.

Unless someone had opened the door.

But Ethan would have heard it.

He walked toward the hotel.

“Miss!”

The automatic doors opened.

A security guard sitting behind the reception desk looked up.

“Can I help you?”

Ethan hurried inside.

“The woman who was in my taxi.”

The guard frowned.

“What woman?”

“My passenger.”

“What about her?”

“She was just in the car.”

The guard looked toward the entrance.

Nobody was there.

“She didn’t come inside.”

“I know.”

“Then where is she?”

“I don’t know.”

Ethan ran a hand through his wet hair.

“This doesn’t make any sense.”

The guard stood.

“Sir, are you alright?”

Ethan turned back toward the taxi.

Then he saw it.

A small black handbag sitting on the rear seat.

His breath caught.

He hurried outside.

He opened the door and picked it up.

The bag was surprisingly cold.

Ethan looked around before opening it.

Inside was a phone.

A set of keys.

A wallet.

And a folded piece of paper.

He opened the paper.

Four words were written in black ink.

YOU MUST REMEMBER ME.

Ethan stared at the message.

His stomach twisted.

Remember her?

He didn’t even know her.

He picked up the wallet.

Inside was an identification card.

The photograph showed the woman from his taxi.

Her name was printed beneath it.

CLARA BENNETT.

Ethan stared at the photograph.

Something strange happened.

For the briefest moment, he felt as though he had seen that face before.

Not tonight.

Somewhere else.

Somewhere in his past.

He closed his eyes.

A sharp headache suddenly struck him.

A flash of memory appeared.

A woman standing beneath a streetlamp.

Rain.

A scream.

Then darkness.

Ethan opened his eyes.

The memory was gone.

“What the hell?”

His phone rang.

He nearly dropped Clara’s wallet.

He pulled his phone from his pocket.

Unknown number.

He answered.

“Hello?”

Silence.

“Hello?”

Someone was breathing on the other end.

Slowly.

Heavily.

Ethan’s expression changed.

“Who is this?”

A woman’s voice whispered:

“Why did you bring her back?”

Ethan’s blood ran cold.

“What?”

The line went dead.

He stared at his phone.

Then at Clara’s handbag.

Then at the empty taxi.

The security guard walked outside.

“Sir?”

Ethan didn’t respond.

The guard pointed toward the taxi.

“What is that?”

Ethan turned.

The rear window had fogged up from the inside.

Words were slowly appearing across the glass.

Three words.

HE KNOWS YOU.

Ethan stepped closer.

His breathing became shallow.

He reached out and touched the glass.

His finger came away wet.

“What does this mean?”

The security guard took a step backward.

“I don’t know.”

Ethan looked around the driveway.

A sudden feeling of being watched settled over him.

He turned toward the hotel.

Nothing.

Only darkness behind the windows.

Then footsteps sounded from the entrance.

Ethan turned.

Two police officers were walking toward him.

One held a photograph.

“Mr. Ethan Cole?”

Ethan’s stomach dropped.

“Yes?”

The officer stopped in front of him.

“Do you know this woman?”

He held out the photograph.

Ethan looked at it.

Clara.

The same face.

The same dark eyes.

The same woman who had been sitting in his taxi less than ten minutes ago.

“Yes,” Ethan whispered.

The officer exchanged a look with his partner.

“Where did you meet her?”

“In my taxi.”

“When?”

“Tonight.”

The officer’s expression changed.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Mr. Cole, I need you to come with us.”

Ethan stepped back.

“Why?”

The officer looked directly into his eyes.

“Because Clara Bennett has been dead for two days.”

Everything around Ethan seemed to stop.

The rain.

The wind.

The distant traffic.

Even his own breathing.

He looked down at the handbag still clutched in his hand.

Then at the empty taxi.

“No.”

The officer’s voice remained calm.

“I’m afraid so.”

Ethan shook his head.

“She was alive.”

“According to you.”

“I drove her here.”

The second officer looked toward the taxi.

“Then we have a serious problem.”

Ethan looked at him.

“What problem?”

The officer’s expression hardened.

“We found your fingerprints at the place where Clara Bennett was murdered.”

Ethan couldn’t speak.

A flash of lightning tore across the sky.

For one brief moment, the windows of Blackwood Hotel lit up.

And Ethan saw a figure standing behind one of them.

Watching him.

Then the lights went out.

The Woman Who Was Already Dead

Ethan stared at the police officer.

For several seconds, he could not process the words.

We found your fingerprints at the place where Clara Bennett was murdered.

His mind kept returning to the same thought.

That was impossible.

He had never met Clara Bennett before tonight.

At least, he was almost certain he hadn’t.

“I’ve never been there,” Ethan finally said.

The officer’s expression remained unreadable.

“Then you can explain that at the station.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You don’t have to understand everything right now.”

“Yes, I do.”

Ethan stepped closer.

“You just told me a woman who was sitting in my taxi ten minutes ago has been dead for two days. Now you’re telling me my fingerprints were found where she was murdered. How am