My Uber Driver Has Been Driving In Silence For An Hour. The App Says The Ride Ended 40 Minutes Ago.

My Uber Driver Has Been Driving In Silence For An Hour. The App Says The Ride Ended 40 Minutes Ago.

​"Your ride is arriving in 2 minutes."

​The notification was a relief. It was 2:00 AM, the bar had closed, and I was standing on a chilly street corner. I just wanted to go home.

​A black sedan pulled up. The license plate matched the app. The driver’s name was "Arthur."

​I opened the back door and slid in. "Hey, Arthur? Going to 42nd Street?"

​The driver nodded slightly. He didn't speak. He wore a thick woolen cap and a high collar that obscured most of his neck. I couldn't see his face, just the back of his head.

​"Thanks," I mumbled, pulling out my phone.

​We drove off. I was tipsy and tired, so I closed my eyes for a bit. The hum of the engine was soothing.

​I woke up with a jolt. The car was bumping over rough terrain.

​I blinked, confused. We weren't in the city anymore. Outside the window, there were no streetlights, no buildings. Just open fields and darkness.

​I checked my phone.

Ride Status: Completed.

Drop-off time: 2:38 AM.

​It was 3:15 AM.

​"Um, excuse me?" I leaned forward. "Arthur? I think you missed the turn. The app says the ride is over."

​He didn't answer. He didn't even flinch. His hands were gripping the steering wheel at 10 and 2. Stiff. rigidly stiff.

​"Hey!" I said louder. "Stop the car."

​Silence.

​Panic set in. I grabbed the door handle and yanked it. Nothing. The child lock was engaged. I tried the window button. Locked.

​"Let me out!" I screamed, pounding on the plexiglass divider that separated the front and back seats.

​That’s when I looked at the rearview mirror to catch his eye.

​The car interior light was dim, but I could see the reflection of his face.

​Or rather, I saw what should have been his face.

​Arthur’s eyes were open, but they were rolled back entirely into his head, showing only the whites. His mouth was hanging open in a slack jaw. His skin was waxy and pale, with a bluish tint.

​He wasn't blinking. He wasn't breathing.

​My driver was dead.

​I recoiled, slamming my back against the seat. "What the..."

​If he was dead, who was driving the car?

​I looked at his hands on the wheel. They were grey and lifeless. But underneath his sleeves, something was moving. Something was shifting under the fabric of his jacket.

​I saw a black, tendril-like appendage snake out from Arthur's collar. It wasn't a neck. It was a parasite. A thick, muscular tentacle was wrapped around the steering wheel, controlling it. Another one was pushing down on the gas pedal.

​The thing was wearing Arthur like a suit.

​The car slowed down. We were pulling up to an old, dilapidated barn in the middle of nowhere.

​The "Arthur" thing turned its head. The neck snapped with a sickening crack because the parasite turned it too far. The dead eyes looked straight at me.

​The radio turned on by itself. Static hissed, and then a voice synthesized from the car speakers spoke.

​"Passenger... delivered. Food... source... secured."

​The doors unlocked. But not my doors. The barn doors opened.

​And from the darkness of the barn, dozens of people started walking toward the car. They all walked with the same stiff, jerky gait. They were all wearing drivers' uniforms. Uber. Lyft. Taxi.

​They opened the car door.

​I'm posting this using the remaining 2% battery on my phone. They took my shoes so I can't run. They are keeping me in the silo with the others. If you call an Uber tonight, check the driver's eyes.

​Make sure they blink.