Backseat Driver

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.