As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows over the deserted highway, a group of five friends found themselves hopelessly lost in the middle of nowhere. The hot summer air had given way to an eerie chill, sending shivers down their spines.

With their car's GPS system on the fritz and cell phone service nonexistent, they had been driving aimlessly for what felt like hours in search of civilization. "This is ridiculous, we're going in circles," groaned Tim, slumped in the backseat.

"Are we even going the right way?" Sarah asked, her voice tinged with anxiety as she peered out the window at the darkening landscape, the twisted shapes of dead trees looming like gnarled hands reaching for them.

"I don't know," replied Mike, the designated driver. He gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles white. "But we can't just sit here. We need to find a gas station or something before we run out of fuel."

The gas gauge hovered perilously close to empty. Jenna leaned forward, fiddling with the radio dials, but the static crackled ominously-no stations came through in this desolate area.

Just as they were about to resign themselves to another round of aimless driving, a flickering neon sign appeared on the horizon like a beacon. "Tourist Trap," it read in bold, flashing letters that buzzed and hummed.

"Thank god, maybe we can get directions or at least use a phone," Jenna exclaimed, relief evident in her voice despite the unsettling name.