Spare Parts

We were hurdling down the fracturing old highway at a hundred miles per hour.  Cecil was spouting dogma in the back seat while Anderson was screaming out the points from the front.  "One thousand, twenty five hundred!" He shouted as one car after another on the opposing side smashed into another one on ours.  Head-on in front of us, one after another went from being some sort of organized running machine to become nothing more than spare parts.  We were in a pack of perhaps twenty five or thirty vehicles moving down right smashingly forward into the same number of cars (though it seemed like more) smashing into us.  Each side on a suicidal death match to what end I knew not.  The odds were insurmountable that we would even survive.  But each time someone else bit it, and we didn't, we got the points.

I twisted the organized hunk of steel we were in to the left and to the right via the steering wheel.  We went under an underpass and one poor soul from the other side of the metal meat market ran right into a supporting column of concrete.  “BOOM!” his vehicle exploded in a ball of fire, momentarily scorching the outside of my car as I raced by.  No one was ordering me to do a thing, it was up to me to make it through, they were just along for the ride.

There was a girl named Becky in the car with us.  I don't know how I knew her name, I just did.  She didn't know either and kept distracting me as I drove on.  "3000 points!" Anderson yelled louder than before.  Then I realized there was some young kid wedged behind Anderson and the front seat.  Did I mention I was driving from the right side of the car?  "How did he get in here?" I asked Anderson, as he too became aware of the delirious munchkin that was beginning to wake up.  Then without incident to us, Anderson chunked the kid out the already broken window.  I didn't have time to turn to see anything in the aftermath of what we were already leaving behind.

Becky took off a wig she was wearing and continued to annoy me with persistent questions.  I let go of the wheel at this point and turned to address her.  Crash went one car after another all around us, as Becky and I debated the finer points of the male – female relationship with one another.  That’s when Cecil sat up and hollered, “now we’re really in the thick of it!”  In that instant I realized I liked Becky, even though I did not know her, it was kind of like I did.

Frustrated, or perhaps self-sacrificing, she too dropped out of the car.  I wanted to yell “Noooo!”, but there was no time.  I turned my attention back to grabbing the wheel but just like that, it was over.  No one was left but the car I was in, and that dented, scraped up, and pretty much useless now, old heap that had been our lifeline to the other side finally came rolling to a stop and I was the only survivor, or at least I thought I was.  That’s when things got weirder than they already were.

I got out and ran to the toll booth at the end of the highway, sensing something was wrong.  You could see partially fractured overpasses in the distance.  I suspected they were still fracturing though I could not detect this with my own eyes.  I approached a couple of windows that allowed me to see there were people I knew inside the booth.  "Quick," I hollered, "get the cart up!"

I ran through the back door and one of the guys I knew started rotating the hyper crash cart into position.  What was left of the bottom of a ripped shirt clinging to my brutalized torso kept hanging up on the corners of the crash cart as my friend was finally able to bring it into position.  I could see lights within the box (that had been covered by some sort of cloth to protect it from dust) were powering up like some kind of freak show.  Others gathered round and began hooking up the links to me and the machine, beginning with my stomach when I began to black out.

"We're losing him," someone said.  I couldn’t stand, I was falling.  I could feel the link to my stomach that should have been supporting me draining what was left of the life out of me.

Then, total blackness.  The fight was over, and I was a goner, nothing more than spare parts too.