Chapter Twenty-Two: The Ghost in the Rearview
The highway stretched out before us like an endless ribbon of asphalt, cutting through the dark, jagged silhouette of the Cascade Mountains. Inside the cramped cabin of the van, the air was thick with the smell of old upholstery and the faint, sweet scent of the apple juice Chase had spilled earlier. Charlie’s knuckles were white as he gripped the steering wheel, his eyes scanning the road with a mechanical intensity. He hadn't spoken since we crossed the state line, and I didn't blame him. We were both vibrating with a frantic energy, that terrifying cocktail of adrenaline and pure, unadulterated dread that comes when you realize there is no turning back. Every pair of headlights that appeared in the distance behind us felt like a spotlight,
