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!"
"Who's
driving?"
"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."
"Car?"
"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.
THE
END
©
2018 Dellani Oakes
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