Thursday, April 12, 2018
Oscar Friedman's Freakish Occurrence - Part 7 by Dellani
Not only does the car stall several times, the GPS will not shut off, and starts talking to Oscar. To his horror, the car drives itself, taking him out of town, into the country. He's now late, and lost, at the mercy of the psychotic car.
"I don't know who you are and why you're possessing this car." Oscar backed away from it. "But I'll find out and I'll get rid of you. I'll have you exorcised!"
"Get in the car, Oscar. Jasmine would want you to get in the car." The voice took on the same quality and cadence as Jasmine's voice. "Please get in the car, Oscar. I'll be good. I promise."
"You're insane. Or I'm insane. I don't know which. But this isn't happening!"
"Get in the car or I'll run you over where you stand!" The engine revved.
Rather than arguing further, Oscar got back in the car. He couldn't escape the possessed vehicle on foot. It would run him down and no one would ever know or believe that it had murdered him. Not that anyone would believe him anyway.
"I'm totally lost," Oscar mumbled. "I've no clue where I am. Take me back to town."
"What's the magic word?"
"Please," he grumbled.
"Please take me back to town."
"Calculating route." The voice said in a chipper tone.
The car swung around, heading back the way he'd come. It allowed him to steer, but stalled if he tried to go off the route it had for him. He arrived at his next venue nearly two hours late. Patrick was angry, mostly because he was concerned.
"Sorry. The car isn't behaving," Oscar mumbled. "I'll get a new one tomorrow if I have to buy the damn thing."
"Do that. Tomorrow is our biggest venue. I really need you there, Oscar. Those people will eat that book up like candy."
"Yeah. Yeah, I know. Thanks, Patrick. Sorry to be such a pain."
"Head back to your hotel. Get a good meal and some sleep. Tomorrow will be better."
"Yeah. I'll do that. Meanwhile, I'm taking this car back to the lot."
Somehow, once he was out of the car, his phone worked perfectly. Oscar called Jasmine as he walked out to his car.
"Hello?" Her voice sounded happy and breathless.
"Hi, Jasmine. Oscar Friedman."
"Hi, Oscar! I was just thinking about you. How's the car doing?"
"It's been a weird day. Can I take you to dinner? I'd really like to see you. I'll tell you about it when I see you."
"Sure. How about I meet you at the hotel restaurant? That will give you a chance to get back there and freshen up."
"That sounds good. Mind eating early? I'm beat."
"How about six thirty? That gives me time to go home and change."
"Excellent. See you then."
He walked outside to find the car where he'd parked it. It started up without problem, though the GPS gave him instructions on how to get back to his hotel without him keying in the address. To test it, he made a wrong turn on purpose, a block or so from the hotel.
"Calculating route," the voice sounded overly loud. "What are you doing, Oscar? Did you think I wouldn't be paying attention?"
"Nothing. I looked at the map wrong." He got back on the right road, nervous sweat coating his face.
He arrived at the hotel and parked as close to the doors as he could. He wanted it to be easier for the clerk if the alarm went off again. He left the keys at the desk with the same clerk who had been there the day before. Thanking her politely, he went to his room.
Jasmine Bond met Oscar in the hotel lobby at 6:25 and they went to dinner together. They shared a bottle of wine as they waited for their meal to arrive. Oscar was finally able to relax and unwind after his trying day. He had nearly made up his mind to tell Jasmine how the car had been behaving when their appetizers arrived. Instead, he ate his soup, chatting with Jasmine about her day at work and his book signing. The subject of the car's behavior didn't come up.
By dessert, Oscar felt as if he'd known Jasmine his entire life. Slightly buzzed, he gazed into her fabulous blue eyes, smiling rather foolishly. Jasmine, equally as inebriated, smiled back at him.
"You know, I think I'll have to call a cab to go home. I don't think I can drive in this condition."
"Me either," he chuckled. "You know what I want to do?" He raised his eyebrows like Grouch Marx.
Jasmine laughed, shaking her blonde curls. "No, what?"
"I wanna go dancing. You like to dance?"
© 2018 Dellani Oakes
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