Disappearance (21 page)

"What am I doing wrong now?"

I reach for the key to turn the car off and back on again, but the key won't budge either. I push the "On" button but it doesn't even move, click, or anything. The blue light remains on. Is there some trick to getting this thing to move? Voice activation, maybe?

"Turn On. Go. Drive. Forward." Nothing works and I sound like an idiot. I start kicking the dashboard, hoping to jar something loose and get the car back to life. From my experiences with electronics, kicking them works a surprising number of times. Not this time though.

I look around, trying to find the one magical button or lever that will take this car off into the sunset. While I don't find a button to start the car, I do find one that piques my interest - the trunk opener. I lift up on it, not expecting it to do anything. This time I'm more fortunate. I hear a "boing" and turn around to see the trunk door rising up. I reach over to get out of the car, but the driver side door doesn't open from the inside either - the owner should get that fixed.

I crawl my way back over to the passenger side and out the door. I walk over with giddy anticipation as to what's in the trunk.

What I see makes my jaw drop in horror. Crumpled car pieces I can only assume are from Abby's car, and Cujo's bloody and grotesque head - his dead eyes staring back at me.

Chapter 19

"Oh my God!" I take my gun and look around again for someone watching me. This has to be one sick prank, and here's the proof. It doesn't explain why the car drives all by itself, but it certainly explains that someone put all this shit in the car when I wasn't looking. After all, the car doesn't have arms (at least not any I can see).

It also means someone is close; I've never felt more unsafe. I storm over to the Honda and open up the trunk to pull out my ax. If someone is watching me, I might as well give them a good show. With gun and ax in hand, I go to the mystery black car with vengeance.

I drop the gun to the ground and take a firm baseball grip to my undersized ax. I aim my best swing at the front tire. The blade hits the tire and bounces back hard like a toy bouncing ball shooting up from the ground. This unexpected force causes my left arm to throb with pain, which only makes me angrier. Holding it with just my right hand now, I take a chop at the side of the car but I'm met with the same undamaged result.

What the hell is this made out of? It has to be some kind of material unseen on the market. I don't even see a scratch where I hit it with my ax. I give it a couple more swings and only get more useless results.

Giving up on the ax, I'm out of good ideas but I start with closing the trunk. I don't want to see that ever again. The moment the trunk door closes, the car starts to move about as slowly as a car can move.

"Where the hell are you going?"

It's headed straight for the Honda. At this speed it's bound to cause little or no damage but I keep an eye on it anyway. Once it gets close enough to where I think it's going to crash, it makes a sharp left turn and stops only a few feet away from the Honda. I hear a clicking sound, which can only mean the car either fully locked or unlocked. I try the passenger door and see it's locked. I move over to the driver's side and that side is locked too. This keeps getting weirder and weirder.

I get the feeling I'm being tested, like this is a puzzle I have to figure out. I don't have the faintest idea how to solve it, though. All I know is over the past few days this car has done everything it could to prevent me from going near it, but now it's almost demanding I get back inside.

That's when an idea occurs to me. I've learned growing up that if you want a bully to stop picking on you, you have to think of the absolute last thing they want to happen, and then you go do it. Most kids think that's telling the teacher, but to a bully that's almost wanted. It gives him another reason to pummel you. No, the last thing a bully wants you to do is fight back. He likes it when you're scared and submissive, but the moment you start throwing a few punches is when he'll leave you alone and look for easier targets.

With the black car and whoever is watching me, I think the last thing they want is for me to leave. I'll bet they're thriving on my reactions. As much as this black car fascinates me and piques my interest, I'm going to drive off as if I don't care anymore.

I get the keys out of my pocket and climb back into the Honda. Tabby is sitting on the driver's seat so I reach down to move her, but she jumps out.

"Tabby, get back here!"

When I look over, she's pawing at the black car's door.

"Tabby, let's go. It's locked."

She ignores me and continues to paw at the door. I turn back and yell at her again, "Tabby, it's locked. There's nothing I can do. See..." When I try the door handle again, the door opens up. How can this be? I've been within earshot of the car since I last tried the doors and would have heard it unlock. With the door cracked open, Tabby jumps in the passenger seat.

I turn away for what I think is the briefest of moments when something happens -- the worst thing I can possibly imagine happening. The black car takes off, and with its momentum the car door slams shut - leaving Tabby trapped inside.

"Noooo!" I get into the Honda and turn the ignition. The engine only sputters. This can't be happening now, did I leave the lights on? I check then look up and see the black car starting to disappear far off into the distance. I try the key again, "Come on damn it. Work!" This little pep talk seems to do the trick because the engine kicks on. I put the car in drive and speed off after the black car that's carrying my precious Tabby.

The Honda doesn't quite move like the BMW, but it's pretty fast. I've managed to get the car going fast enough now that the black car is still within view, but I have some catching up to do.

I feel like a crazed mother whose child has gone missing. That cat saved my life and now it's time I return the favor.

I'm headed north, the opposite direction of where I'd want to be going. I've been this way a couple times already, and it doesn't stir up any pleasant memories. Going up my famous hill - where just off the road a tree was struck by lightning - my Honda reaches ninety miles per hour. Anything faster makes me think the screws will pop out. I seem to be gaining on the black car but not fast enough.

I wonder what Tabby is thinking. Is she scared? Does she even understand what's happening?

I keep a steady grip on the wheel and think about what I'll do when I catch up to it. I can't wreck the car with Tabby inside - she'll die in a crash at these speeds. What can I do? Not in my wildest dreams do I expect the car to slow down. Shooting the tires also does no good; I've already proven this car is bulletproof from top to bottom. The only option I can think of that might not involve Tabby or me getting killed is to drive ahead and then slam on my brakes, letting the black car crash into the back of me. If I do this I can hopefully slow it down enough that it stops.

It doesn't seem like much of a plan, but it's the only one I have. When I make my way down the hill I push one hundred miles per hour. It terrifies me beyond belief going this fast but I'm getting closer.

Then the black car does something I never would have expected. It pulls over to the side of the road and makes a complete stop. I pull up behind it, wondering why it stopped here. Then I look over to see this particular part of the highway doesn't have a guardrail. It should though, because off the road is a steep hill -- a hill I'm all too familiar with. This is the exact point where I wrecked Abby's car.

I get out of the Honda and walk toward the black car, making sure my ax and gun are firmly in hand. Halfway there I look out over the hill to see if anything has changed. It hasn't. It's still an empty piece of land with no sign of my previously wrecked car. When I get to the passenger side window, I see Tabby in the seat. To me she looks terrified but who knows what's going on inside her head. I try the door but it's locked. I want more than anything to get her out. I call to her to get back so I can make another attempt at shooting or axing my way through the window. No matter what I say, whatever pointing and speaking I do, she doesn't understand me. She just paws at the window and meows.

"Tabby, get back so I don't hurt you!"

I walk over to the driver's side, hoping Tabby won't follow me over but she does. I know at any moment - any second - the black car may spontaneously start driving off again. I decide I have to take another shot at the window, even if Tabby is there. I'll shoot at the front window since I've never officially tried that yet.

First, I try the driver's side door in case by some miracle it's unlocked. When I reach for the handle I don't even give it much of an attempt because I'm fully expecting it to not work. However, when I flip the handle and the door cracks open I can't believe my unexpected fortune. Tabby finds the crack in the door and pushes her way out before I even get to open it all the way. She doesn't run off, though; she looks up at me wondering what I'm going to do next. I stare right back at her, as if looking to her for any good answers.

I'm not sure what it is about this car, but something draws me in and wants me to get inside it. I look at Tabby, wondering if she knows what I'm thinking. I tuck the gun and ax in my left arm and pick her up with my right arm.

"What do you say we go back inside and have another look?"

I don't want to go in the car alone. If I do and it takes off, it may be the last time I ever see Tabby - or anyone else for that matter. With Tabby in my arms I kick the door open with my right foot.

When I step into the car, I set her down in the passenger seat. She seems a bit on edge, so I rush to close the door before she sneaks out on me. As soon as I close the door, I hear the clicking sound of the doors locking. When I push the unlock button nothing happens. I try some of the other buttons but none of them seem to do what they're supposed to.

Then I push the trunk door, hoping I can somehow escape out the back. This button worked last time, but not this time. The trunk door remains still.

"Great, now what do I do?"

As soon as I say it, the black car takes off - Tabby and me trapped inside. The acceleration on the car has to match or exceed any of the greatest sports cars on the market. I've never been in a vehicle that goes from zero to sixty miles per hour this quickly.

My hands grasp the steering wheel, but it doesn't do any good. The wheel controls itself and doesn't allow me to do anything. As hard as I grab the wheel, it won't budge in the direction I take it. I stomp down on the brakes but they don't move either. I don't want to go any faster but I step on the gas pedal to see what happens. It doesn't move either.

I'm reminded again there aren't any safety belts. Why would someone build a car without them? Whoever did the safety inspection on this car should be fired.

Having my life in the hands of a piece of metal propelled by some form of technology I've never seen before is unsettling. I can only hope and pray it doesn't decide to propel itself off the road.

I have to admire how well the car moves, though. Even at these incredible speeds, the black car maneuvers through bends in the road with precision. I never noticed when I was chasing after it, but it seems to stay in the exact center of the lane at all times. Only a computer-driven car could be this precise.

We make our way toward the Nashville exit. Being in the car this long eases my anxiety a little. The speed and no seat belts are unsettling, but the car's driving ability makes me feel safe. Already I have more confidence in its driving ability than I do of my own. If there were other cars around I might be more precarious, but the way it currently stands, I have to say I'm OK with the speeding black car. I just wish I knew our final destination point.

Currently, we are headed back north covering the same stretch of highway I've already traveled through these last few days. Although, at these speeds we are making much better time.

I wonder if we are going to retrace my entire trip. If so, I had a momentary chase with the black car through Nashville, so I guess I'll find out soon. I have no idea which exit I came out of. Like most big cities, Nashville has an outer belt with many different ways of getting in and out.

We drive past what looks like the first opportunity to make our way downtown. I'm hoping we make a stop in town. Getting a free tour through the city from a self-propelling car would be fun. I also hope we stop soon because I'm not at the point of crossing my legs but I could certainly use a bathroom break. If only I could have control of this car. There has to be a way to override the system.

As the second exit nears, I start getting anxious. Please make the turn. I grab the wheel again, hoping that by some miracle I'll be able to move the steering wheel, but it doesn't budge. The black car doesn't slow down for even a second as it zooms past the exit.

More exits come and go and I start getting more and more worried. It doesn't look like we are going to stop in Nashville. The next major city is Louisville, and that isn't for another 180 miles. I won't be able to hold it that long. I look over at Tabby to see how she's holding up. She's not crossing her legs either but I imagine she is going to need a bathroom break soon also. I know not to underestimate the small size of animals; they can take a pretty healthy dump that can smell up an entire house. Magnetize that by a hundred when you're stuck in a tiny car.

It feels like we've been on this outer belt for hours when I see a sign that says we're two miles from I-65. I know if we take that turn there will be no stopping in Nashville. I slam my hands against the steering wheel and shout obscenities my mother wouldn't be proud of. Having no control over a vehicle is very frustrating.

As I see the turn ahead, I hope we don't make the merge right. I start muttering to myself "Please don't turn. Please don't turn. Please don't turn." When we get up to the exit though, my fears come to fruition.