Being an Uber driver in Las Vegas, I’ve had my fair share of late-night pickups. From drunk tourists to locals who’ve lost track of time at the casino, it’s always an interesting ride. But nothing could have prepared me for what happened on a chilly night in November.
I was cruising around the outskirts of the city when I got a ping. The pickup location was from a little-known casino far off the Strip. I accepted the ride and drove to the destination. A tall man, swathed in a long trench coat, his face hidden under a hat, was waiting for me. I couldn’t see much of him, but his demeanor gave off a certain edge that made me slightly uncomfortable.
“Evening,” I greeted him as he got into the car.
He merely grunted in response, settling himself in the backseat. He was going to a residential address located on the other side of the city, according to the app. The trip would take about 45 minutes, given the late-night traffic or lack thereof.
As we drove, I tried to engage him in light conversation, a habit I’ve developed to put my passengers at ease. But the man was monosyllabic, answering in grunts or nods. I shrugged it off. Not everyone was a chatterbox.
About fifteen minutes into the drive, my rider got a phone call. “Yes… I understand… I’ll take care of it,” he muttered into the phone, his voice low and gruff. The way he said those words sent an involuntary shiver down my spine.
The ride was mostly silent after that. My eyes kept flicking to the rearview mirror, meeting his hidden gaze every time. There was an ominous aura about him that was impossible to shake off. I chalked it up to my overactive imagination, spurred by the late hour and the solitary drive.
However, what happened next changed everything. The man’s phone rang again. He answered it swiftly, speaking in hushed tones. I couldn’t hear everything he said, but one phrase stuck out: “The driver doesn’t know anything.”
A knot formed in my stomach. Was he talking about me? But why? Questions swirled around my mind, but I kept my eyes on the road, focusing on getting us to the destination as quickly as possible.
As if the universe had a sick sense of humor, the car chose that moment to sputter and die right in the middle of a deserted stretch. Panic surged through me. The car’s sudden breakdown, combined with the mystery of the man in the backseat, was a perfect recipe for a horror movie.
I swallowed hard, my throat dry. “Sorry, sir,” I stuttered, trying to hide my growing fear. “Let me see what the problem is.”
But as I moved to open the car door, the man’s cold hand clamped around my wrist, stopping me in my tracks.
“No need,” he said, his voice chillingly calm. “We will wait.”
And so we sat there, in the middle of nowhere, waiting in silence, as the mystery deepened, making the night even more terrifying.
The minutes dragged on in tense silence. The only sound was the ticking of the dashboard clock, each second echoing in the confined space of the car. I sat rigid in my seat, acutely aware of the stranger in the backseat, his presence like a weight in the car.
Just when the tension was becoming unbearable, a pair of headlights appeared in the distance. As they drew closer, I could make out a black SUV. It pulled up behind us, its high beams momentarily blinding me.
Before I could process what was happening, the man in the backseat broke his silence, “You should stay in the car.”
There was an urgency in his voice, a warning. He got out, his tall silhouette barely visible in the dim light. He walked over to the SUV, leaving me alone, my mind racing with questions and fear.
I squinted through the rearview mirror, trying to make sense of what was happening. The man was talking to someone from the SUV, their conversation too hushed for me to hear. Suddenly, he turned and pointed towards my car, towards me. The panic returned, more intense than before. Was I in danger? Should I run? But where would I go in this deserted place?
Before I could make a decision, the man returned. He got back into the car without a word, his face as unreadable as before. We sat in silence, the SUV’s headlights providing an eerie illumination. Suddenly, my car roared back to life. It startled me. I hadn’t even touched the ignition.
“Drive,” the man commanded. His voice was cold, authoritative.
Despite my confusion and fear, I obeyed, eager to get away from the ominous SUV and its unknown occupants. As we drove away, I glanced in the rearview mirror. The SUV remained where it was, its headlights gradually fading into the distance.
The rest of the ride was shrouded in a silence only broken by the occasional directions from the GPS. My mind kept playing the night’s events, each replay adding to the sense of surreal horror. The man, the phone call, the mysterious SUV - it all felt like a twisted nightmare. But the cold dread gnawing at my insides was very real.
We finally arrived at the destination, an isolated house at the end of a long driveway. The man got out, his imposing figure disappearing into the darkness.
Just when I thought the night’s ordeal was over, my phone vibrated. An incoming text message. The sender: unknown. The message: “Get out of there. NOW.”
A cold shiver ran down my spine as I read the text. The words “Get out of there. NOW.” seemed to echo ominously in the quiet car. My hands shook as I dropped the phone, the bright screen casting eerie shadows in the darkness.
My eyes darted to the house. It was an unremarkable structure, save for the utter isolation. Its windows were dark, its surroundings eerily silent. The man was nowhere to be seen. A sense of dread settled over me, as though unseen eyes were watching from the darkness.
With a jolt, I realized I was still parked at the end of the driveway. I needed to leave. Fast. The mystery text, the man, the ominous house – everything screamed danger. My mind spun, the adrenaline pumping as I put the car in reverse.
Just as I was about to hit the gas, the front door of the house swung open. The man stood there, silhouetted against the dim light from inside the house. I froze, my heart pounding in my chest.
But instead of approaching the car, he turned and walked back into the house, leaving the door ajar. Something about the scene felt like a final warning, like an invitation into a trap.
Terror gripped me. My foot hit the accelerator, tires screeching as the car sped away from the house. My breathing was ragged, hands tight on the wheel. The city lights in the distance seemed miles away.
Just as I was starting to think I’d escaped, my phone buzzed again. Another text from the unknown number: “Don’t stop driving.”
The rest of the night was a blur. I drove aimlessly, my mind consumed by fear and confusion. The first light of dawn found me parked in a 24-hour diner’s lot, my body numb with exhaustion.
The following days were filled with paranoia. I reported the incident to the police, but without concrete evidence or clear motive, there was little they could do. The unknown number that had sent me the warnings was untraceable. I quit my job with Uber, the fear of another late-night pickup too much to bear.
The man, the house, the cryptic texts - they all remain a mystery. I still wonder what would have happened if I’d stayed at the house that night. But some questions are better left unanswered.
From then on, each passing car, every anonymous number, sent a chill down my spine. The fear has lessened over time, but it never truly left.
And so, my story remains a chilling reminder - a nightmarish memory of the time I stepped into the darker, unseen world that exists beneath the city’s neon-lit façade. A world I had unknowingly entered just by accepting a late-night Uber ride.