Dan struggled to control the car as the dark van barreled past in the other lane. They must have been pushing a hundred miles per hour, at least.
Shannon clucked her tongue, glaring at the rapidly disappearing vehicle. “Asshole.”
Dan’s knuckles were white. He’d caught a glimpse in the window as the van had flown past. He’d seen the hairy, ape-like arms, knotted with muscle, reaching out from the darkness in the rear. A half-dozen hands tipped in claws that gripped the steering wheel, the gearshift… and clamped over the mouth and arms of the terrified woman in the chair.
The Shoveller Of Widdecombe Ditch (Trad.)
15 hours ago