Thursday, May 10, 2018
Oscar Friedman's Freakish Occurrence - Part 11 by Dellani
Oscar intends to return the car to the rental company, but it has other ideas. Trapping him inside, the car takes off, evading police and leaving chaos in its wake. Oscar gets a call from Don, but has a hard time making him believe that the car really is possessed. He manages to free himself enough to get to the trunk.
"What are you doing, Oscar?"
"Nothing. Ignore me."
"You're doing something naughty, aren't you? Like you did with Jasmine last night?"
"How's that any of your business, honey? You don't even like me."
"You broke my heart," the GPS said plaintively.
"How did I do that?"
"You wanted to trade me in."
"You went nuts on me!"
"I didn't want to be ignored! Then you took up with her!"
"Jealousy is an ugly emotion," Oscar said casually. "Especially in a woman your size."
"Are you saying I'm fat?"
"I'm saying you're a beast, a behemoth! You are the Mount Everest of fat! You make beached whales look small. In fact," he continued, warming to his subject as his hands closed around the tire iron. "You make wooly mammoths look like cats."
Grunting, he sat up with the tire iron behind his back. Scooting forward, he raised the seat once more, positioning himself so he had the best leverage possible.
"I might go so far as to say, that they could put you on Mount Rushmore, but you'd dwarf the presidents with your ass!" He swung the tire iron at the GPS control panel. The glass cracked but didn't break.
"What are you doing?" Did he detect a note of panic?
"Something I should have done the first day when you took an hour to get to my hotel."
Whack! The glass cracked more, spider webbing across the panel.
"I did that because I love you!"
"We just met. How can you love me?"
Whack! Pieces of the console scattered on the carpet.
"Stop that right now, Oscar." The GPS spoke sternly, her voice warbling slightly as he continued slamming the tire iron into the panel.
With a satisfying crunch, it broke and the lights on the GPS dimmed. The car continued down the deserted two lane road. Oscar hit another portion of the computerized panel, hoping to do enough damage to stop the car. It shuddered, but continued at the same breakneck speed.
Flying down the road, he passed a deputy sheriff who was writing out a ticket for an old farm truck. Tossing his pad aside, the deputy ran to his car, hitting the lights and siren as he pursued Oscar's Prius.
"Why are you doing this, Oscar?" The voice was warped, slurring its speech.
His only answer was to hit the gear shift with the tire iron as he slammed on the brakes. Next, he grabbed the emergency brake, yanking sharply at it. This time, the car slowed, swinging in a crazy arc, sliding across the road and into the ditch on the side. Shuddering to halt, the motor still running, the car released the locks, flinging the door open.
Oscar knew it was the unspoken command to get out. On shaking legs, his left ankle threatening to drop him, he got out, still clutching the tire iron. Holding it in front of him like a shield, he hobbled away from the car.
The deputy pulled up in the middle of the road, jumping out with his gun drawn. "Put the weapon down," he commanded loudly.
"It's just the tire iron," Oscar explained, his hands held high. "I'm putting it down."
Once the metal bar hit the ground, the car slammed the door shut. Lights flickered, motor growled. Like an angry bull, the car snorted and smoked. Revving the engine, it sought a purchase on the damp grass. Tires spun, exhaust belched.
"What the hell?" The deputy stood beside Oscar, mouth hanging open.
"Shoot it!" Oscar yelled. "Shoot it now or it'll kill us both!"
"The car. Dammit, give me that!"
Oscar grabbed the deputy's gun, shoving the other man aside as the Prius leaped forward. Squeezing the trigger, he prayed he killed the car before it hit him. He fired rapidly, emptying the clip into the car's grill. With a screaming howl, the hood burst open, smoke and steam spraying upward as the car shuddered and died. Dropping the weapon, Oscar collapsed against the squad car. The trooper grabbed his gun and walked over to the Prius.
"There's no one in here!"
Oscar nodded, shrugging. "Told you. The car.... Something went wrong...." The pain and stress caught up to him and he passed out.
Oscar woke up sometime later, the most delicious feeling of calm and comfort surrounding him. He felt as if he floated on a cloud. His eyes fluttered open slowly, one at a time.
"He's awake," he heard Jasmine's soft voice.
"Oscar?" It was Patrick.
The two of them hovered over him as he levitated. Pressure on his hand made him look down. Jasmine's fingers twined with his.
"Are you all right?" Her pretty face, lined with worry, made its way into his limited line of vision.
"Yeah." His throat was so dry, he could hardly speak.
A straw pressed against his lips and he drank water so cold it made him shiver.
"Thanks." He felt better after a few more sips. "Where...?" He was too groggy to finish the sentence.
"The deputy called for an ambulance," Jasmine said. "You're in the hospital. You broke your ankle."
"Irreparably damaged," Patrick told him gruffly. "Dammit, Oscar. What were you thinking?"
"Car—tried to kill me...."
"Nonsense, cars don't try to kill people."
"Ever see...." Oscar struggled to find the right word. "That Stephen King—about the car?"
"Christine?" Jasmine supplied.
"Yeah. Damn car was possessed. This was—another Christine."
"I've about heard everything," Patrick grumbled. "Try to talk some sense into him. I'm getting coffee." He left, slinging the door open.
"You believe me?"
Jasmine smiled. "I believe you. Sleep now, Oscar. It's over."
"Okay." His eyes drifted shut. "Hey," his eyes flickered. "Is it okay if I fall in love with you now?"
Jasmine smiled, kissing his forehead. "Yes," she giggled. "It's all right."
"Good," he mumbled. "Good."
A white Prius sat in the police impound, hood smudged, bullet holes in the bumper and grill. The moonlight glittered on the twisted chrome. Water from the radiator dripped on the ground mingling with the cool night air.
Suddenly, it seemed to shiver. Lights flickered on across the damaged control panel. The GPS cycled on once more and a red destination blip appeared. With a heavy sigh, the engine started and the white Prius rolled into the night.
© 2018 Dellani Oakes
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