Oscar
spends a very satisfactory night with Jasmine, and a good day at the
book signing. When they are getting ready to leave, he spots his
Prius in the parking lot. Which is odd, because Jasmine gave him a
ride. He'd left the car at the hotel.
"Okay.
I'll check for the paperwork just to be sure. Can I follow you there?
I don't trust the GPS."
"Sure."
She gave him a kiss.
Oscar
found the car door open. Sitting in the driver's seat, he opened the
glove compartment. Finding the rental papers, he saw that it was
indeed his car, but he had no idea how it had come to be there. He
leaned across to put the papers back in, pulling in his left foot
which had been dangling out the door. The door slammed shut, catching
him in the ankle. Cursing, he tried to open the door, but it wouldn't
budge. The locks engaged and the car started on its own.
Trying
to open windows and doors with the buttons was impossible. Terrified,
Oscar banged on the window. Jasmine walked toward him, hands
extended. An electrical shock zapped her fingers painfully. Every
time she tried to touch the car, she got another jolt.
"Help!"
Oscar yelled, banging on the window. "Get Patrick!"
The
other authors were coming out the door, their arms full of books.
Eyes wide, they stared in horror as the car advanced on them, roaring
menacingly. With a final growl, the car leaped forward, scattering
his friends as he beat against the windshield.
Tires
screeching, the car hurtled into traffic, leaving multiple accidents
in its wake. Oscar tried to take control of the car, hitting the
brake ineffectively with his right foot. The left was still painfully
trapped between the door and seat. He tried to open the door, but it
refused to budge. He tried the emergency brake only to have the car
accelerate. The gearshift produced no results. As he careened along
the road, the interstate loomed ahead.
"Stop!
Damn you! Stop!"
"Freeway
entrance on the right in .2 miles," The GPS said calmly.
The
possessed Prius took the freeway entrance at ninety, scattering
traffic in its wake. Chaos followed them as the car wove in and out
of traffic. Oscar lost track of the collisions, hiding his face in
his hands. Feeling helpless and responsible, he tried again to bring
the car to a halt.
Alternately
praying and cursing, he wrestled with the controls. Passing a state
trooper, he burst into tears. This was all he needed, a speeding
ticket in a car he couldn't control. Blue lights and sirens followed
him down the road. That was an improvement, really, as the other
traffic moved out of the way. He could see the trooper talking on his
radio, fury contorting his features. The officer pulled up next to
Oscar, pointing sternly at the side of the road. His lips formed the
words, "Pull over!"
Oscar
raised his hands helplessly, shrugging. The car accelerated, leaving
the trooper in a cloud of exhaust. Moments later, his phone rang.
Digging it out of his left pants pocket was no easy feat. He lay down
across the seats, freeing the phone.
"Help!"
He yelled into the phone.
"Mr.
Friedman?"
"Help
me! Who is this? Help!"
"It's
Don from the car rental agency. What's wrong?"
"Your
car! It's running away with me! I'm on the interstate going 110 in a
Prius!"
"Mr.
Friedman, just calm down."
"I
can't. Don't you see? The car's possessed! It's kidnapped me!"
"Freeway
exit on the right in .5 miles," the GPS said in a cold tone.
"Hang onto your hat, we're in for a bumpy ride."
"Did
you hear that? That was the GPS! It's talking to me!"
"That's
impossible. It's your writer's imagination."
"It's
not his imagination, Don," the car said.
"Did
you hear that?"
"Is
Jasmine with you? Is this some kind of sick joke?"
"No
joke, Donnie," the car replied. "You know cars don't have a
sense of humor."
"Jesus
H. Christ! What did you do to my car?" Don yelled.
"Me?
I didn't do anything? It's possessed!"
"Freeway
exit on the right," the GPS intoned calmly as it dinged.
Not
slowing at all, it took the off ramp, shooting into the intersection
without regard to lights. Making a hard left, it swung crazily across
the lanes of traffic, scattering more cars. They were headed toward
the country. Desperate now, Oscar knew he had to get free. Lying
down, he had a little more room to get his leg out from between the
door and seat. He sat up, wiggling his shoe off, then lowered the
seat to a reclining position.
By
wriggling and twisting, he pulled his foot slowly toward him.
Something snapped in his ankle, but his foot finally came free. With
a shuddering groan, Oscar put his shoe back on. Examining his
surroundings, he started to formulate a plan. If he could get to the
trunk, maybe he could find the tool kit, he might be able to damage
the car enough to make it stop. Struggling against the erratic
movement of the car, he opened one side, lying on it as he examined
the trunk.
©
2018 Dellani Oakes
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