A Land Lost in Time
~Cars 2/Up Characters (c) PIXAR~
Note: The jungle Axlerod crawled out of after his attempt to circumnavigate the globe is exactly like the one from Up.
Sir Miles Axlerod, ever the strong and collected individual, began to fear that he was losing his mind, however slowly. Although, madness was such a superficial thing in so many aspects.
The journey had begun simply enough, being a car built naturally for rough terrain had its upsides, but that didn't mean that his poorly kept engine would fare any better, much less agree with him. The Range Rover must've broken down about five times in the first week of his expedition to circumnavigate the globe, forced to repair himself each and every time. The British car began to truly doubt that he'd ever reach his goal—seeing as how this voyage had already begun poorly, the best case scenario—to his mind— would to be devoured by wild animals, rather than rust away as his engine failed him, and run out of gas. And seeing as how there were only three tankards left, the possibility only became more daunting.
But now, the multi-millionaire oil baron could only survey the dense jungle canopy above him, tires crunching all sorts of debris underfoot, all the while dodging larger rocks and tree roots, attempting to ignore the barking he was most likely imagining, and continued to hear off in the distance. Swearing a blue streak under his breath, Sir Axlerod yanked his tire out of a small crevice, glancing heavenward to track the sun's position. Instead, he was met with enormous black storm clouds.
Before he could even comprehend how the sun had been obscured to swiftly, the heavens decided to open up, gallons upon gallons of rain and hail pouring down onto the jungle. Miles stood in an unmoving stupor, disbelief written across his features before he frowned petulantly, and continued on his way, sleet bouncing annoyingly off of him. His tires were beginning to lose traction in the mud, and the sopping wet dirt already caked his sides, dangerously near his undercarriage, and around his front and back bumper. His headlights blazed through the gloom, but Axlerod knew he had to find shelter soon.
After nearly a half hour of trudging through jungle sludge and rain, a flash of lightning presented a large cave against a steep hill, the interior pitch black against the already dark landscape. Feeling as if he were descending into the gullet of a beast, the slightly mentally unstable Range Rover steeled himself, drawing up his fenders as he entered.
His headlights alit starkly against the black walls, casting shadows over the few stalagmites that littered the cave floor, water dripping rhythmically from the ceiling. The cavern itself continued on for several more feet, to dark to tell exactly how far. It could have been miles for all the car knew.
Shaking the rainwater off of his paint, the Range Rover examined the cave skeptically once more, before leaning heavily on his tires against the all, hoping for sleep.
His eyelids drooped slowly, the rhythmic dripping of the water lulling, and he licked his dry lips. Rationing his supplies had been the most difficult aspect of the trip. He let out a groan as his tank growled, seeming to echo endlessly through the cave.
The dull colors of the cavern and soaking-wet jungle outside melded together into one senseless mesh, and Miles—exhausted in both body and mind—was oblivious to his overheating engine, only feeling an unpronounceable cold as his fever at last took hold.
When sleep eventually claimed him, the Range Rover's dream were nightmarish, more memory than anything else.
Teased as a child for being a constantly- malfunctioning car, a junk heap, jalopy, rust bucket, rattle trap…lemon. The taunts grew worse as he matured, but once his oil company boomed, the name calling had almost instantly faded overnight. But the scars remained—the beatings as a adolescent, returning home bruised and battered and acting as if nothing had transpired, telling his mother that his 'friends' a played a bit too roughly. The traumatic experiences remained, seeded deeply in his subconscious, growing slowly with each passing insult. And the gradually rising acknowledgment, burning silently and festering over the years, that these cars needed to pay.
The thunder that drew him from his sleep shook the very cave walls, startling him awake.
Gasping, the Range Rover attempted to regain his breath, glancing frantically around the shadowed grotto. Daylight was already creeping tentatively over the jungle, the sun still low over the forest canopy and mountain ridges, sunlight streaming faintly through the treetops. Dark clouds still littered the sky, additional rainfall clearly imminent.
Miles' fever had died down, but he was still weak, looking over the cave walls uncertainly, as if expecting one of his childhood bullies to jump out of the shadows. Releasing a heavy sigh, the British car rested lowly on his tires once more, stretching, his axles and shocks creaking in protest.
Letting out another sigh, the Range Rover looked over his few rations, clucking lowly at the diminished quantity of supplies he had. Although, out of his small baggage, a chocolate bar was found. Miles have a weak smile at his butler's ingenuity when it came to packing and pulled the candy from its pouch, carefully un-wrapping it. "Just one bite," he quickly assured himself upon laying eyes on the cocoa brown wonder. "One bite won't hurt." Oh how he wished he was back home at his well kept mansion in Cambridge, eating caviar and canapés while entertaining guests before a roaring fireplace….
Axlerod took a few bites from the chocolate bar; trying his best to keep from moaning in pleasure once the cocoa and milk mixture met his taste buds. It took a great deal of self-control, but he managed to return the treat to its previous spot, leaving the small pouch at his side as he gazed out of the cave.
His dream…his realization, had only proved what he already knew. A firm understanding he'd come to quite some time ago, but never truly rationalized. And it was here now, sitting in a cave in the middle of a jungle in Ford-knew-where, caked in mud and dried leaves, his grill partially torn off with hints of rust, and his tires worn down sufficiently, did he come to this final conclusion.
Madness had never been quite so sweet.
A rustling to his right drew him from his reverie, and the Range Rover startled, turning towards the sound, only to find his pouch opened, and the chocolate bar missing. His brow furrowed in annoyance at the small, jungle creature that had undoubtedly stolen his sacred treat, and rose on his tires, rolling further into the cavern's dim recesses, headlights hardly making any leeway through the gloom. He tried to coax the creature out, giving affirmations like the fact that he wouldn't crush the poor soul the moment it stepped into the light and such.
The creature, shrouded in darkness, only responded with a startlingly loud and strange clucking; making the car jump back at its audacity. Miles' eyes narrowed not a moment after. "Eh, you blooming chicken, I need that chocolate! Now why don't you just come out and hand it over….."
The bird, silent for a majority of the Range Rover's rant, stepped into the light the vehicle's headlights provided. Axlerod gradually trailed off, his mouth falling open upon laying eyes on the creature.
With exceedingly long legs and neck, the bird nearly touched the ceiling with its great height, its feathers a multitude of colors. The beak was enormous as well, long, thick, and pointed at the end, the tip tinted a bright red. Its beady eyes stared him down from several feet up, before dropping the chocolate bar at the thunderstruck Range Rover's tires. The creature tilted its head, looking the car over for a millisecond, as if sizing him up, before clucking loudly once more.
It was then that Sir Miles Axlerod felt the final vestiges of sanity leave him, and he did the only sane thing one could do in a situation such as this.
He screamed. Loudly.
A/N: Pardon any OOC-ness, but this idea just wouldn't leave me alone.
Reviews are love.
And yes, I didn't feel like changing Kevin to a Car-ified version of himself...it would be too awkward for the story.