He still drove his boss to the factory every day before dawn. The storms had flooded the town and the highway, but you could still take the mountain roads if you were clever and fearless.
Most drivers didn’t have his steel, though. There were fatal crashes every day on that road. In the emergency camp, they whispered about a ghost car running the wealthy foreigners off the road.
He didn’t believe in ghosts.
Rounding the bend, he spotted headlights in the dark. The white charger sped forward, and he could see the driver’s inhuman eyes. It was already too late.

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