It was supposed to be a routine ride home from the airport—a quick, cheap shuttle trip through the rain-slicked streets of the city. Mel and Jules, two close friends returning from a carefree vacation, expected nothing more than small talk, flashing city lights, and a warm bed at the end of the night. But the moment they stepped into the almost-empty shuttle van, something felt wrong. The driver, quiet but strangely intense, locked the doors and took an unexpected detour. By the time the girls noticed they weren’t heading toward home anymore, it was already too late—the city behind them vanished into darkness, swallowed by the industrial sprawl beyond the freeway.
The road twisted into silence, and the passengers—five strangers—began to sense they weren’t just lost. Phones had no signal. Windows refused to open. A quiet dread grew inside the vehicle, amplified by the driver’s cold detachment and the van’s descent into forgotten warehouse districts. Then came the turn into an abandoned dockyard, rusted and shrouded in fog. There, the truth was revealed not through words but through horror. This was no shuttle service—it was a trap. They were cargo, selected and bound for an unthinkable destination. Beneath the city's surface thrived a network of human traffickers, and this night was just another route in their brutal system.
As panic set in, Mel and Jules refused to submit. Using whispers, glances, and silent signals, they began orchestrating a desperate escape. The driver, however, was prepared. Cameras watched every corner. Escape attempts were met with swift retaliation, and alliances among passengers frayed under pressure. But Mel remembered something—the subtle glint of a knife one of the passengers had tried to hide in his boot. With time and courage, they planned a final stand. Blood was shed. Screams echoed through the tunnels as the van was plunged into chaos. In the end, not all survived, but their resistance disrupted the system. For a brief moment, the monstrous chain was broken.
Only one girl made it out that night, crawling through sewage pipes into the early morning haze. When the police arrived, the shuttle was gone. So were the other victims. No cameras had footage. No license plates were registered. The truth was buried. But the survivor remembered everything—the look in the driver’s eyes, the cold precision of their route, and the sound of chains in the dark. For most, the shuttle was just another van on the street. For her, it became a symbol of the night when the city’s shadows devoured the innocent. And though no one believed her story, she never stopped looking—because somewhere out there, another shuttle would return, waiting for its next unsuspecting passengers.