Midnight Driver: Five Stars or Die

Ch 11. Ghost Job

Nights on the outskirts of Los Angeles were never truly quiet, but the abandoned St. Mary’s Orphanage carried a different kind of silence. The kind that felt like it was waiting to choke you from behind. Ray adjusted his position behind the wheel of his black Dodge Charger. The V8 engine idled with a low, steady rumble, a vibration that did little to calm his nerves.

“What kind of place is this?” Ray muttered, glancing at the phone mounted on his dashboard.

His “special Uber” app, a backchannel for clients who needed rides without a paper trail, showed the pickup point directly in front of the rusted iron gate. St. Mary’s had been shut down ten years ago after a horrific abuse scandal. Now it was nothing but a haunted block of concrete, its shattered windows staring like bulging eyes.

“Five minutes, Ray. If no one shows, I’m out,” he told himself.

Ray checked the analog watch on his wrist. Each second dragged. He glanced at the Glock 17 wedged between the seat and the center console. Old reflexes from his CIA days never really died. Something about this job felt off. No name, only coordinates and a crypto payment worth three times the normal rate.

Creeeak.

The large wooden doors of the main building slowly opened. Ray narrowed his eyes. A young boy stepped out. He looked no older than ten, wearing an oversized black hoodie, a backpack that seemed too heavy for his frame, and clutching a high-end tablet whose blue glow lit his pale face.

The boy walked calmly, as if he were in a playground, not a cursed orphanage at two in the morning.

“What the fuck?” Ray frowned. “This is my passenger? A damn kid?”

Ray rolled down the window as the boy reached the car. Cold night air carried the smell of moss and rusted iron.

“You… Leo?” Ray asked cautiously.

The boy glanced at him. His eyes were flat, no fear, no curiosity. “Verification code: Icarus-9-9,” he replied in a voice far too calm for someone his age.

Ray froze. It was the correct code. “Alright. Get in. Put your bag on the floor. Don’t mess up my seats, this is real leather.”

Leo opened the rear door and slid in. He immediately returned to his tablet without a word of thanks or a question about their destination.

“Hey, kid. Where are your parents? Why are you alone in a dump like this?” Ray said as he turned the wheel, preparing to leave.

“Just drive, Ray,” Leo said without looking up. “You’re paid to drive, not to play social worker.”

Ray snorted, switching on the headlights as they cut through the overgrown access road. “Great. I get a rude magic kid. You know what time it is? This is when ghosts and psychopaths come out to hunt.”

“I know,” Leo replied flatly. His fingers danced across the tablet screen at an impossible speed. “And one of them might already be here.”

Ray stopped the car just short of the still-closed main gate. He stared into the rearview mirror, trying to read Leo’s expression. The kid did not look like a kidnapping victim, but he did not look like a runaway either.

“Listen, shorty. I’ve got rules. I don’t ask about your business, you don’t ask about mine. But if this involves human trafficking or some new designer drug, I drop you on the freeway. Got it?”

Leo finally looked up. “I’m not carrying drugs. And I’m not merchandise. I’m just… a delivery that needs to arrive on time.”

“A delivery? You think I’m a package courier?” Ray scoffed, shifting the gear into Drive. “Whatever. My code’s simple. You pay, I drive. But if things get weird, I don’t hesitate to get rough.”

“You’re former CIA, right?” Leo asked suddenly.

Ray’s hands froze on the wheel. His eyes sharpened in the mirror. “Who told you that?”

“Your data isn’t hard to find if you know where to look,” Leo said casually. “Raymon ‘Ray’ Vance. Left the agency five years ago after a Balkan op went sideways. Now you’re a freelance driver for people who don’t want to show up on government radar. Specialties: tactical driving and… target elimination.”

Ray took a long breath, forcing his temper down. “Alright, listen up, smart kid. You just broke my first rule. Never dig into my past if you want to have a future.”

“I just wanted to make sure I was in the right hands,” Leo replied, eyes back on his tablet. “Because in the next few minutes, your driving skills are going to be tested harder than they ever were in the Balkans.”

“What are you talking about?” Ray narrowed his eyes.

“Just drive, Ray. We’re already two minutes late.”

Ray cursed under his breath and floored the gas. The Charger’s tires screeched against the old asphalt. Something was deeply wrong. The bad feeling crawling up the back of his neck kept getting worse. The orphanage shrank in the mirror, but the darkness ahead felt far more threatening.

“You know what, Leo? I hate kids who are too damn smart,” Ray said, lighting a cigarette.

“I also hate adults who ask too many questions,” Leo replied, emotionless.

Ray shook his head. “Fantastic. This is going to be a long night. Where are you actually going? The app just says ‘Downtown,’ and that’s a big area, kid.”

“Follow the route I’m about to send to your screen,” Leo said. “And don’t stop, no matter what happens.”

Ray glanced at the dashboard display. The destination suddenly updated. A new route appeared, glowing red, cutting straight through an isolated industrial zone.

“That’s not a standard route,” Ray protested.

“It’s the safest one. For now,” Leo replied.

Ray exhaled smoke toward the cracked window. “You sound like you’re being chased by demons, kid. What are you really carrying in that bag?”

“The future, maybe. Or destruction. Depends on who gets it,” Leo answered flatly, sending a chill up Ray’s spine.

“Holy shit, you’re a real drama queen,” Ray scoffed, though his grip on the wheel tightened. “Alright, ‘Future.’ Sit tight and buckle up. I don’t want complaints if your head hits my ceiling.”

“I already am,” Leo said.

Ray glanced back. Sure enough, the kid was strapped in properly, eyes still glued to the cascading code on his tablet. The tension inside the car thickened. Only the roar of the Charger’s engine and the soft tapping of Leo’s fingers filled the space.

“Ray?” Leo said after a moment of silence.

“What now?”

“You still have that gun under your seat?”

Ray stiffened. “How the hell do you know that?”

“Just asking. Because according to my calculations, you’re going to need it in a matter of seconds.”

Ray was about to snap back when something caught his eye in the rearview mirror. Not a pursuing car. Not police lights.

A tiny point of light. Small, but blindingly bright.

Ray squinted, focusing on the reflection of the back seat. And that was when his heart nearly stopped.

Right on Leo’s forehead, a red laser dot danced.

“Get down!” Ray shouted.

Combat instincts took over. Without waiting for a response, Ray grabbed Leo by the hoodie collar and slammed him down to the floor.

CRASH!

The Charger’s rear window exploded into shards.

A large-caliber round tore through the spot where Leo’s head had been a second earlier, ripped into the dashboard, and obliterated Ray’s navigation screen in a shower of sparks.

“Fuck!” Ray yelled. “I knew it. A damn ghost job!”

He smashed the accelerator to the floor. The V8 engine roared like a wounded beast, tearing through the night as glass rained onto his shoulders. The real escape had just begun.