"You can just turn here and we can cut across," she said, pointing into the blackness. "I only take main roads," he replied softly, not looking at her. "It's a two-mile jog, but it saves tons of time," she continued, "and the road's in good shape; we have enough moonlight to see potholes and deer." He turned to her, face drawn and knuckles white-gripping the wheel. "I ... can't. I ... only take main roads ... where everything makes sense." She started and reached out to touch his shoulder. He was pale and shaking, his eyes wild. "What's happened, Greg?" she asked him gently. His eyes darted, seeing something out of the window behind her and to the left. "Noooooooo," he mewed in a strangled little voice while he gunned it and spun out left (away from the intersection). She froze, afraid to turn around.