Nights are being spent driving around in dark roads on a taxi until a sudden encounter brings things out of the darkness.

My name is Edwin, and here's a scary story.

I've been driving nights for, God, it must have been 12 years.

You lose count after a while.

Most people can't handle the shift.

They say it's too quiet, too dark, too much time to think.

But for some of us, it's the only time the world makes any sense.

Fewer people, less noise, no traffic.

Just the hum of the engine, the rhythm of tires on asphalt.

The occasional drong trying to haggle over a $10 fare.

Sal and I started around the same time, though he's got a few years on me.

Used to be a mechanic, then ran some bar that burned down.

We never liked talking about that part.

Anyway, we both ended up in cabs, and night after night, it was just the two of us,

checking in over the radios.

Nothing formal, just, you out tonight tonight or catch anything interesting.

Like two truckers sharing the road.

Only our road never really went anywhere.

Sal was sharp in his own way.

Krusty, sure, but funny.

The kind of guy who could make you laugh without trying, usually insulting your mother or

questioning your life choices.

...