I’ve been driving with Uber in Arizona for about two years. I’ve had lots of weird passengers, but the one I picked up last Thursday was by far the strangest.
I pulled up to the gas station. Outside was a young man, about twenty, staring up at the sun. He had long greasy black hair, and, even though it was over a hundred degrees outside, he was wearing a black sweatshirt and black pants. I hoped that he was not my passenger, but he began making his way slowly to my car.
“Are you Michael?” I asked him, but he did not respond. He just opened the back door and sat down.
“Is your name Michael?” I asked again.
“Yeah…I’m…Michael,” he said, talking slowly. He was definitely high on something. I should have canceled the trip, but I desperately needed the money.
The destination popped up. It was about 40 miles away, in the middle of the desert. I zoomed in on my map, trying to see what was there. It looked like there was nothing but sand.
“Where are you headed?” I asked him.
“To…the…desert.”
“Are you sure you put in the right location?”
He nodded and closed his eyes. I’ve had lots of strange passengers, but this just seemed off. I wondered if I were going to get robbed out in the desert, but that seemed unlikely.
I started driving.About ten miles outside of town, I turned onto a narrow gravel road, barely wide enough for two cars to pass. According to the GPS, I was supposed to follow this road for twenty miles.
I didn’t see another car the entire way. Or pass any sign of civilization. Nothing but cactuses on the side of the road. What was this road even for? Did it lead to some old mine?
After twenty miles, I turned off onto an even narrower dirt road. It was in awful condition, and even though I only had to go two miles on it, it took nearly half an hour. Finally, we arrived outside a ramshackle wooden building, about the size of a small barn. There were no other cars by it.
I turned to Michael, who was sleeping in the back seat. He hadn’t said a word the entire trip. “We’re here.” Wherever here was.
He did not stir. I gently nudged his arm. No reaction. I felt his pulse. It was there, but faint. Very faint.
As I was considering what to do, Michael’s phone rang. I answered it.“I see your car,” a raspy voice said. “Take Michael out and bring him into the building.”
“He’s sick, he needs to get to a hospital.”
“No, take him into the building. There is a shaft, throw him down it.”
“What?”
“Throw him down the shaft. We will take care of him.”
Panicking and terrified, I got out of the car and yanked Michael out. I then sped away, leaving him lying facedown in the burning sand. When I was about a half mile from the building, I saw three small figures emerge and drag Michael inside.
That was the last time I ever drove for Uber.