Let's Not Meet: A True Horror Podcast - 1x09: Freeway - Let's Not Meet

Episode Date: March 18, 2019

Stories in this episode: Disturbed Man at University - Dark Light Freeway Flirting Turns Frightening - Ne0nCobra I just moved to a new place and met the neighbors! - doofwars Follow Let's Not Meet: Facebook - https://www.facebook.com/groups/433173970399259/  Twitter - https://twitter.com/letsnotmeetcast  Website - http://letsnotmeetpodcast.com  Patreon - http://patreon.com/letsnotmeetpodcast  Twitch - https://www.twitch.tv/crypticcounty   

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Woo! My name is Andrew Tate and this is season one, episode nine of Let's Not Meet a True Horror Podcast. I work at a mid-sized public university at night as a floor tech, which is a fancy way of saying a janitor who doesn't do toilets. At the time of this story, I was in charge of the university's student hub building. Like most colleges and universities, this is the building where students from any major and course of study are welcome to hang out, eat lunch, study, attend events, etc.

I work at 6 p.m. but the campus police shut and lock the building around 9 p.m. So this leaves me inside. There is one part of the building, the food court mall, that is left unlocked due to the ATM machines that are located just inside the door, though the entrance door is leading inside to the main building are locked. This is located on the second floor,

where this story takes place. It was around 12.30am this particular night. I was on a scrubbing machine on the second floor hallway that leads directly to the doors that open to the food court mall. The vacuum on this machine is fairly loud, so it's not easy to hear anything that may be happening around you. I was listening to music as I slowly drove this machine down the hallway, which added another layer of obliviousness. I was mindlessly watching the floor and listening

to some music that I had heard a thousand times before when I began to hear an extra layer of what sounded like a bass drum beating along in the rhythm to the music. I'm sure there are others who can attest to the fact that even after listening to songs that you've heard in ad nauseam amount of times, there are still pieces within the music that you can still find. So I chalked it up to that. But then the sound was becoming more rapid and offbeat to the music. I stopped the machine and pulled out my earbuds. The sound was coming from the doors at the end of the hallway, just out of view. After each succession of beating, I heard a man's voice calling out.

Hello? Can you hear me? The hair is on my arm, and next stood up. I stepped off the machine and slowly walked towards the door. They are facing away from the hall, so whoever was there couldn't see me. I wasn't sure what to do when I got to the doors, and the man sounded frantic. But for security reasons, I was not allowed to let anyone inside after the doors are locked. And if they need to get in, they need to let themselves in with a key.

And if they don't have a key, tough luck. I was just a few yards away from the doors when the beating and screaming stopped. I peeked around the corner to the door and looked through the glass. Nothing. No one was there. I figured that whoever it was must have heard my machine in the hallway, but when they couldn't get a response, they left to find help somewhere else. Stupidly I pushed open one of the doors to look into the mall. Before I could get my head through to look around, I saw a figure

running at breakneck speed toward the door. I pulled the door shut just as they slammed their body against the glass. I stepped back and stared at a man, probably six foot three, around 230 pounds. His skin was a dull and dark color, but not because of his race or a tan. It looked like caked on dirt. His hair was about shoulder length, slick with oil and grease. His leathery face was scruffy, as though it hadn't seen a razor in a few days. His eyes looked panicked. He knocked on the glass, like one would do on another person's front door.

He smiled as he spoke quickly in a raspy voice. Hey, man, I need your help. I need to get my wallet. It's in there. I left it in the bathroom. He didn't look like a student. He was much older than the students who attended the university, even older than me. But in that moment, I figured that that was beside the point.

Even though I had been in every bathroom in this building already, both men and women's, I hadn't noticed anyone's personal belongings. I informed him that I couldn't let him in, but I would gladly look in the bathrooms for his wallet. No, no, no. He said with a slight panic in his voice. You don't know which one I left it in. Just let me in.

I'll go get it." Again, I told him it was against university policy for me to let anyone inside. Come on, man. I have my driver's license and debit card in there. You can't just turn me away without that stuff. I told him that if he didn't feel comfortable with me looking for his wallet and feel like he needed to come inside, I could call for a campus police officer to come and escort him to it, or he could wait until 9 a.m. the next morning when the building opened up.

And that's where it turned ugly. That slight smile that he wore, advanced. His brows furled, and his mouth drooped. He reared his fists and began beating hard against the glass. He was screaming again. Let me in, or I'll break the fucking door down." I bolted around the corner of the door and called the campus police. I informed the dispatcher of what was happening. All while this maniac beating his fist so hard against the glass, I was sure he was going to break through it.

Just as I got off the phone, the beating stopped. It was an eerie silence that made the atmosphere very unsettling. It felt like my lungs were being crushed, and my heart was pounding out of my chest. Then he started knocking lightly on the glass. the glass. I heard him murmur through the glass. I can see you." I looked directly across from the door and saw a reflection of the man and myself in the polished steel of the water fountain on the opposite side of the hallway. I ran back down the hallway and down the main staircase to the first floor. Because the first floor is essentially lined with ceiling to floor the windows all around its perimeter. I was afraid that if he came around the building he would be able to see me. I opened an office door, ran inside and locked

it behind me. I stayed in there for about half an hour when I heard the radio noise of a cop walking through the building. I walked out of the office and straight ended the chest of the officer. After giving him my story, he sighed and told me that they didn't find anyone when they came in. He said they would review the security footage, but that he was confident that they wouldn't find this guy due to the size of the campus. He could be anywhere by now, he said with a chuckle. As if that was a way to make me feel better. I wasn't laughing. I no longer work in that building due to other unrelated reasons, though before I was transferred to my current building, I was tasked with the duty of training my replacement for two

weeks. Now I never told him what had happened, but I did tell him every single night for those two weeks that under no circumstances is he to open any door for anyone. One night, about a month after my transfer, I was talking to him at the department shop before clocking out for the night. I asked him if he's gotten used to everything. He said yes, but that there was this one guy who walks around the patio area outside There's this one guy who walks around the patio area outside of the first floor windows. He's there almost every night and is always looking inside at him. He said it creeps him out so much that he called the campus police a week ago and ever

since then he hasn't seen him. So, creepy guy who was determined to get inside my old building, let's not meet. This story takes place in 1999 when I was a stupid 18-year-old kid with nothing better to do than cruise around at night. At the time I lived in a very small southern California town, and the only places open after dark were the pharmacy, some fast food restaurants, and a very gross bar. So, like all kids, I made my own entertainment. I spent a lot of time driving around with friends listening to the radio and talking. It was better than sitting around, or parents' houses, I guess. But after one particularly terrifying encounter that summer, I was just fine hanging out in our cozy well-lit home. One night, my friend Shana and I decided

to do our usual loop around the main part of town, out behind the high school and back to our houses via the freeway. We'd been driving for about an hour, and it was close to 11pm when we decided to do one last loop before calling it a night. Along the way, we noticed some guys in another car. I don't remember how many there were. At least two. The driver and the passenger, but there might have been more. We first noticed them at the red light, stopped in the lane to our left. The guy over there is checking you out, my friend said. I tried to play it cool and pretended like I was looking at the totally boring scenery. Oh wow, an abandoned gas station. I have to see this. Oops, caught your eye. Sure enough, the passenger of the car next to us

was checking me out. I don't really remember what he looked like, but it was 1999 and this was a real white trash town, so probably like Fred Durst. Anyway, I gave him a small smile, turned up our radio and sped off as the light changed. The car stayed at a normal distance behind us and my friend kept looking over her shoulder telling me to slow down so we could see if they were cute.

I wasn't creeped out or anything. I just wasn't interested in playing flirt tag with some dudes, so I maintained my pace. By the time that we got to the next light, they'd gotten behind me and switched lanes so that they were pulled up to the right of our car. My friend immediately glanced over. The driver gave her the what's up nod, and I could see their passenger leaning forward trying to look at us. Shawna gave them a little wave as the light changed, and we took off. A few blocks later, I pulled up to a stop sign where you could either go straight or turn right. The other car, who had been a couple of car lengths behind us,

and to our left, sped up to catch up to us at the stop sign, and jerked to the right hand turn lane. They were slightly behind our car, but we could hear them shouting hello. My friend turned to look at the driver who was leaning at his window, motioning for us to follow them loudly. Nope, wasn't going to happen. Red light flirting was one thing, but neither of us were so desperate to meet boys that we'd follow them in a car late at night, especially when there was nowhere even to go. She waved goodbye, and we we drove off heading to the freeway entrance. In my rearview mirror, I saw their car flip around from wherever they had been heading,

and start to catch up with us. I got on to the freeway, hoping that they wouldn't follow, but they totally did. They stayed a few car lengths behind us, but kept switching lanes. They stayed a few car lengths behind us, but kept switching lanes. Now, if this happened today, I'd call the highway patrol on myself, but back then, neither of us had one. And at this point, I wasn't certain we were in danger, but I knew something felt off. Their car continued to switch lanes behind us for a couple of miles, but didn't try to catch up. Eventually I hit part of the freeway that

was a little bit more populated, and I started to calm down. They're probably heading downtown, we said, or maybe to the beach. I bet they just wanted to try and talk to us. We cranked up the radio, decided to drive a little further and thought we had lost the car. But we were wrong. About 15 minutes later, we exited the freeway and turned around ahead home. I'd been driving for a couple of minutes when I see a car pull off the shoulder of the road and start following us. At first I thought it was a speed trap, but almost instantly I saw that it was the same car from earlier. They had been waiting for us on the side of the road.

They caught up to my car on the passenger side, and in my peripheral vision I could see the driver gesturing angrily at us. Neither of us could tell what he was saying, but Shana started shouting. I don't know. I don't know. In response, and doing an,'m sorry, gesture with her hands. I tried to keep my eyes on the road, but I was also thinking, what the fuck? What's going on? So I kept glancing over. Then it happened. The driver pulled out a gun from his lap and started

tapping it on the side of his car window at us. Shana immediately threw her seat back, which I'd realized she was trying to save herself, but thanks for giving them a clear shot at me. I looked over and saw the driver's face, which was absolutely furiously contorted with rage. He was shouting so hard I remember seeing spit all over their window, which he was still tapping on with the gun. I don't know what kind of gun it was. It was black. And I guess looked dangerous.

I began reviewing a mental map of the area, trying to figure out the easiest way to get to the police station. We were about six exits from where we started, and I knew there was a fire station pretty close there, so I decided to floor it and try to outrun them. I quickly gained distance and pulled into their lane, which was the fast lane and the one closest to the exits. They were driving some kind of Toyota sedan, and I was in a Honda with a lot of pickup, so I managed to clear out pretty fast. But they did catch up. They pulled into the lane to my right and I could see the driver leaving his arm outside the window.

The passenger was flipping us off out his window and then pulled what looked like a crowbar out, waving it out the window, like a fucking warboy looking for victory on Fury Road. I am getting off at the next exit and I am heading to the fire station. I told Shana, they're basically cops, right? Or they can call the cops, and we're going to be fine. I said reaching over to grab her hand. She was still flat, but she was crying and shaking. Today, 20 years later, I am a mom of toddler and I still never felt the intense pressure of responsibility I felt in that moment. I had to keep us calm and safe and get us away from these guys. The next exit was approaching and they hadn't caught up or moved into our lane.

I quickly exited the freeway, heard them pass, and immediately gunned our car in the direction of the fire station, hoping all of the firemen were having a midnight party with armed police. I hadn't gotten very far away when I see a car tearing ass to catch up with us. All I can think of is, and they flipped a U-turn on the freeway and drove the wrong way to double back and exit because nothing else made geographic sense. I ran a red light hoping that God a hidden cop would pull me over with no such luck. They were about a block or so behind us, with one eye on my rearview mirror,

I drove as quickly as I could, hoping that they were done trying to scare us and would fall back. But instead, by the grace of God or karma or whatever you believe in, their car either hit some kind of debris on the road or they simply lost control, because they crashed into a mailbox on the sidewalk and stopped. I saw the driver get out as I was peeling away and I swear to God I almost peed my pants with relief and gratitude. Now before you say that the gun was probably fake, let me tell you the last part of this story. As we were driving off, we heard an actual gunshot from their direction. I didn't look back,

but Shawna set up to look and said she saw the driver standing in front of their car, aiming his gun in our direction. I quickly turned in the direction of the fire station, and we heard another shot. I finally got to the fire station, and for a second time that night, I felt like some divine presence was watching over us. There were three police cruisers outside with cops standing around. I told you it was a small town. I pulled over and told them my story, and embarrassingly, fear vomited halfway through. The cops were very nice and immediately went to look for them. One stayed behind to get

our full statements and make sure that we were okay. I'll never, ever forget what she said to me. You must have done some fine-out running tonight, and I'm glad you finished the race in one piece. You must have done some fine-out running tonight, and I'm glad you finished the race in one piece. Here's what I know. They did not catch these guys that night, if they ever did. I never found out about it. They were driving a stolen car with stolen plates. We gave our statements, and I kept my eye on the news for the next few months, but I never

heard anything about any kind of similar reports. Twenty years later, Shana and I are friends and often reminisce about that night. Neither of us have any theories about what their intent was, but I know it wasn't good. So in honor of this fine, sub-tradition, late 90s probably Fred Dursd looking mother fucker, and your gun-toting buddy, that's not me. First of all, I'm a young woman, barely big enough to walk my dog. If this had escalated at all, I have no idea what would have happened. I'm not easily frightened, but the scared the shit out of me.

It actually happened last night, and I have no idea if it'll happen again, but I figured it was bizarre enough to share. It's just me and my giant dog, in a nice private apartment, attached to some townhouses, separated from other buildings by a strip of woods. It's kind of like a tiny house that shares a wall with the apartment building. As nice as it is, it's in a not-so-nice part of town. But I have a backyard, my own space, and working electricity for cheap. So I love this place. It's the first time living on my own. And I'm not going to lie. I've been a little freaked out by living alone, even with a big dog for security. Last night didn't help.

So I was laying in my bed, browsing Reddit, and trying to fall asleep when I heard a tapping on the window. My bedroom has two windows, facing the backyard on ground level, about three meters from the tree line with nothing but open grass outside. At first since I'm not used to sleeping on the floor, I thought it was a tree or something blowing against the outside of the house. When I remembered I'm on the first floor and only floor with no trees close enough to reach the house, I started feeling a bit nervous. I was some weird mix of both scared and annoyed that the tapping was keeping me awake. The noise had my dog's attention, but it wasn't barking yet, which meant it probably wasn't

a person, so I wasn't afraid, at least not as afraid as I could have been. Gradually, annoyance replaced the fear, and I decided to tell whatever it was to knock it off. It had been nearly 30 minutes of this weird, uneven tapping. It was almost midnight, and I had an early start in the morning. Best case scenario, there was no one outside, and I was talking to myself with no one there to hear me. Worst case, there was someone outside.

My non-chalants would catch them off guard, and they would leave, right? Yeah, absolutely. I figured if there was someone there, they expected fear, not conversation. I worked up some courage, and yelled, fuck off, into the dark. The tapping continued. A couple of seconds later, I repeated a little louder. Fuck off! I'm trying to sleep." The tapping stopped. After a second, I heard a male voice. Call back. Sorry. The tapping didn't start again. I didn't expect someone to actually be there. I got out of bed and ran to the window with my phone in hand, ready to call the police,

but when I peeked through the blinds, I saw the guy with his hands up in the weirdest smile on his face. I quickly turned my phone's flashlight on and put it up in front of my face so he couldn't see what I looked like. A few seconds later, I turned the light off and he hadn't moved an inch, not even his face. Still that weird, creepy smile. He stared at the window with his hands up, like he was posing for a photo. In hindsight, I don't know why I didn't take one. Finally, he turned around and started walking back through the woods, and into what I assume is his own apartment right across from mine.

What a way to meet the neighbors. I have no idea what possessed him to tap on my window for half an hour, or what he had in mind, but he hasn't come back yet. Not sure what I'll do if he does. I didn't fall asleep that night. Too nervous to go to bed tonight, and I have class in the morning. Besides, I have a big scary dog for exactly this reason. I should be fine, but still, what kind of person

knocks on some stranger's window at night? When I woke up this morning I saw the window paint on the outside, had a few deep scrapes. I'm not sure if this guy made them, but I'm reporting them to management, and maybe the police tomorrow. I don't know why this guy wanted into my bedroom, if he even did. I hope he just wanted to rob me. So weird neighbor across the woods, let's never ever meet again, please, especially not through my bedroom window at the request of Thank you for listening to this week's episode of Let's Not Meet a True Horror Podcast. This outro has been recently re-recorded as some changes were made at the request of an author for safety or privacy reasons.

The credits for this week's show are all still available in the show notes. All of the stories you've heard this week were narrated and produced with the permission of their respective authors. Let's not meet a true horror podcast is not associated with Reddit or any other message boards online. If you have a story you'd like to share, send it to Let's Not Meet Stories at gmail.com. Thanks for listening. See you next time. Fresh produce is the best produce. That's why at Crogr, we invest in local farmers to bring you the freshest seasonal picks. So no matter how you shop, your local produce always tastes 100% fresh, or you get a 100% refund guaranteed.

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