Weaving through traffic, changing lanes, accelerating and decelerating, constantly swerving left and right.
By the end, he was dizzy and had lost his sense of direction.
Only the clear and soothing voice of Lawrence Winters echoed in his ear, guiding his direction.
He was almost driving on instinct.
To onlookers, his driving seemed masterful, yet extremely perilous.
The two cars tailing him were in even worse shape, almost dizzy from his maneuvers, yet they couldn't help but follow, their minds a muddled mess.
The two drivers felt something was off, but driving had become so fluid that their hands wouldn't obey, and they drove on autopilot.
After directing for a while, Lawrence Winters sensed the moment was right and suddenly raised her voice, "Accelerate! Three o'clock direction!"
Kenneth Osborne instinctively floored the gas pedal, shooting off towards three o'clock.
Like a beam of light cutting through the fog, his mind cleared instantly, and he saw the road ahead.
