Danielle yawned and stretched on her back as she slowly rose back into consciousness after a long night of good sleep. Pushing back the covers, she swung her legs over the side of her bed and shuffled over to her mirror. Her long brown hair, that after her twenty years of life reached just past her hips, was tangled, looking like birds had tried to make it into their nest during the night. Her hazel eyes shone with new-morning light, the muted sunrays dancing on the gold flecks in her irises.
The morning filtered through her dingy baby-blue curtains, the soft beams seeming to ignite the thick floating dust in the room. After successfully managing to tame her hair into one long braid, she walked over to her window and stared out, looking out at her baby; the bright blue Ford Raptor SVT sat in the gravel driveway, covered in dirt and morning dew.
"You sure do need a bath, don't you big boy?" Danielle whispered with a small grin. Washing the giant truck was a challenging all-day endeavor, but one that she thoroughly enjoyed taking on. Even if she resided in a grubby shack out in the boonies, her pride and joy sat out front, faithfully waiting for her every morning. Some people would say that it was just a truck, something that should have been allowed to be scrapped, but there was just something about the Raptor that held her heart in its bed.
Glancing at her clock, 8:13 AM, she threw on a white tank top, tan baggies, and black knockoff combat boots. To say she was a tomboy was an understatement but she didn't care. She was comfortable and didn't mind the slightly military air that it gave her. It also made her look stronger than she really was.
She headed for the kitchen to grab some breakfast and her keys then headed outside. She didn't have time to wash the Raptor today, but gave him a silent vow to wash and wax him fully tomorrow first thing.
Walking up to the vehicle, she ran her fingertips lightly over the metal, from the headlights to the hood to the grill, rubbing off the layer of grime on the grill emblem, an odd face that almost resembled a robotic cat of some sort. Sighing at the dirt on her fingertips, she wiped them off on her pants and then unlocked the truck. Hopping into the cab, she backed out of the driveway onto the "main road", the track of dirt cutting through the dense trees that was a sorry excuse for a roadway. As she headed out, she looked into the rearview mirror and was momentarily distracted by the yellow dust cloud rising into the wispy, gray morning fog behind her. She let her mind slip and allowed herself to daydream of how life used to be, back when she still lived with her parents.
Everything was ok back then; she didn't have to worry about bills or getting food or protecting herself. Everything was provided for, and she hardly had to even lift a finger. The happy memories darkened, however, burned away at the edges by the hell that had become the main, and only, reason that she had left. For that one reason alone, she would never go back, no matter what happened to her these days.
All of a sudden, the engine sputtered, vibrating the cab and bringing her attention back to driving. In front of her, partly shrouded by the drapery of the fog, a large buck stood in the middle of the road, frozen in fear as the hulking noisy truck hurtled towards it.
Danielle slammed on the brakes, but one of the tires caught in a pothole, sending the truck skidding sidewise. Trying to regain control of the vehicle, Danielle jerked the steering wheel back towards the road, but the over-correction was a mistake; one that put her in direct path of one of the sentinel pines lining the road. Going from 45 miles per hour to an absolute stop in less than 25 feet was impossible and she knew it. Yelling out, she shut her eyes, bracing herself against the now-locked-up steering wheel, waiting for the head-on collision.
As she ran off the road, she could hear all the twigs and leaves of the shrubbery slamming and flicking against the cab and underside of the truck, warning her of the path she was on: the impending obliteration of the front end of the vehicle, the whining and snapping of metal as the truck wrapped itself around the tree trunk, slamming her into the steering wheel and then the windshield, glass shattering all around, the engine being rammed backwards into the cab, solid steel pinning her legs to the seat, fire eating through her veins, coursing pain and agony.
But it never happened.
The truck rolled forward through more thick weeds and brambles, violently coming to a halt and throwing Danielle forward against her seatbelt.
As the dust and her heart rate began to settle some, she slowly opened her eyes. Gazing around, she saw the massive pine no more than a foot from the passenger side door and a thick sable palm just a few feet in front of her. She remembered to breathe as she hugged the steering wheel, letting out a slow halting breath. The engine shuddered, emitting a haggard cough out of the dual-exhaust pipes in the back.
After several minutes passed, she finally sat back up, having collected her nerves. She gave the dashboard a final pat and backed out onto the road once more. "You are definitely getting a full wash, wax, and detailing tomorrow baby."
While driving to town, she remembered what her father had told her countless times when she had first started driving; "If yer gonna' hit a deer, speed up! Smaller, an' fewer, dents, especially when ya' compare hittin' a deer to hittin' a tree..." She chuckled remembering her old man, missing him, but reminding herself sternly to focus on the road ahead.
Twenty minutes later, Danielle was finally in the city. Pulling into the local Food Lion, she quickly and quietly procured the items she needed and made her way to the checkout line. While a nearly-senile old lady in front of her argued with the cashier about some coupons, Danielle lazily scanned over the covers of magazines lined up above the conveyor belt.
One had a big white cake on the front, with dozens of brightly colored, and supposedly edible, flowers, beads, and various garnishments; another had a "Before-and-After" shot of some famous women who'd "lost 40 pounds in just 3 weeks". Others held the headlines of who broke up with who, who died, who witnessed the giant machines destroying Los Angles, who's birthday it was… One title, and picture, finally captured her full attention. On the cover of Times was the "Machines vs. City" headline, with a candid shot of a giant mechanical beast firing what looked like a cannon at another giant mechanical beast.
"Next… Next… Ma'am, are you going to check out or not?" came the perturbed cashiers' voice, breaking into Danielle's curious trance.
Figuring the Times' article to just be a spoof, or a very expensive advertisement for a new movie, she left the magazine on its shelf and continued on with her checkout.
After walking out of the store and then loading up her stuff, she put the key in the ignition and turned it, but the engine wouldn't start. It would not even whine or protest, just silence.
"Must've shaken the battery lose or something when I ran off the road…" she muttered to herself, popping the hood and checking the lines and wires. Everything seemed intact, but she jiggled the wires connected to the battery and all of the spark plugs anyways. Reaching back into the cab, she turned the key again, silently willing it to start, but to no avail. Walking back to the open hood, she leaned on the grill, pondering what else would keep it from starting.
"There must be some dirt blocking a contact point somewhere… This is what you get for putting off cleaning him for so long…" she growled at herself.
A soft blue-green light behind the engine caught her eye. It was directly in front of where the radio was in the dash. It blinked on and off irregularly, changing intensity every time it came back on. Not thinking it would do any good but not really knowing what else to try, she climbed back into the cab and tried to turn on the radio. Static burst out of the speakers, startling Danielle and making her jump nearly out of her skin.
"Now why in the good Lord's name does the radio start but not the engine…? It runs off the same battery… Why won't-" she stopped talking as she heard strange raspy voices filtering through the static, occasionally interrupted by clicks and whirs. It clearly wasn't English, but whoever was talking sounded infuriated, panicked, or directive like a drill sergeant. As several minutes passed, the static died back slowly and the voices became clearer. They didn't sound human, more like odd computers communicating with each other. There was a sudden overwhelming explosion heard through the truck's speakers, making the woofer in the back vibrate so hard it sounded as if it would break. The voices had stopped.
Danielle felt the ground shake before she heard the same explosion as what had just come through the radio. As the shockwave blew back small trees and whipped off leaves, Danielle yelped and covered her head with her arms. She didn't know what was going on but she knew that she had to get out of there, and FAST!
She tried the ignition again and nothing happened. She stomped the accelerator several times in frustration and tried again. The engine whined again and again as she repeatedly tried the ignition. Finally, the starter flipped over and the engine roared to life, coughing out white smoke from the exhaust pipes. After slamming down the hood, Danielle fled the packed parking lot, tempted to completely ignore the stop light and oncoming traffic. Before she could move, she saw a bright red Ferrari speed through the busy intersection, cutting off other cars as it went. As the light turned yellow, a giant blue Semi with red flames and no trailer gunned through, followed by a yellow medical vehicle and a huge, bellowing black GMC Topkick. The on-coming traffic's light turned red, and Danielle floored it.
"If those guys were running out of the city THAT FAST, I sure as hell am NOT sticking around to see WHY." she said to herself, ignoring the irate horns of other drivers. She managed to catch up to the Topkick and gawked at its size. Even though her Raptor was no tinker toy, the black truck seemed to loom in front of her. Curiosity nabbed her thoughts, leaving her yearning to know who was driving. Pushing her coughing truck for more speed than it had ever reached, she managed to sidle up next to the driver's-side door. She looked in and, to her shock and horror, the vehicle looked completely unmanned.
"No… I'm going crazy… wait, no I'm not... they must just be too short to be seen, or the seat is leaned back and… and…. HOLY SH-!" Having glanced down at the speedometer, she realized she was doing 115 miles per hour and rising! Immediately pulling her foot off the accelerator and pressing the brake, she watched with an open mouth as the Topkick, Semi truck, and medical truck all vanished rather quickly out of sight.
The strange group of vehicles quickly vanished out of sight in front of Danielle. The large plumb of smoke from the heart of city, however, did not. Even after she finally arrived home, a thin grey cloud was still visible above the tree-line.
With all the stress of the city explosion and no news of it anywhere on tv, the tired young woman decided to try to relax and not think about it. A hot shower and a Snickers bar later, Danielle was passed out on her couch, having gone through two huge adrenaline rushes in one very confusing day.
The sun was nearly set, bathing the unlit room in a fantasy-blue. The TV flickered silently in the corner as Danielle dozed. Her fingers twitched slightly as a dream flooded her unconscious mind.
Dragon flies danced in the air of a bright cloudless noon. Danielle was playing in mother's flower garden, pulling up weeds and the occasional worm. Giggling contentedly, she got up and skipped around the yard, dancing with the dragon flies, twirling in her favorite yellow dress, now dusty with hand prints and fertilizer.
A friendly honk brought her out of her giddy ballet with the fireless-dragons that buzzed around her. She turned to the origins of the sound and squealed happily as her father pulled up in his big blue truck with her best friend, Jeramie Haughnt, wiggling in the passenger seat, eager to jump out. Finally free and on the ground, he ran up to Danielle and gave her shoulder a slight nudge with his palm yelling "Tag! You're it!" "Hey, no fair!" Danielle pouted back, but swiftly gave chase. The air was filled with the giggling and shouting of the happy children running around the yard.
The squealing of tires shattered the atmosphere and she fell to the ground covering her ears. The truck, though empty, was spinning its back wheels, smoking on the grass. As the thick white smoke from the tires enveloped the yard, everything cracked like struck clay then imploded, everything disappearing into itself. Everything, except for Danielle and the truck. The furiously spinning wheels finally gained traction and the truck raced toward her, but the squealing didn't stop. She screamed as the grill slammed into her head in slow motion; she saw straight back into the engine, which was growling and raging with fire. The fire leapt towards her face, hungry to enter her mind, entwining itself in her hair. Two pipes shot out of the engine, through the grill and straight towards her eyes. Time slowed down even further as the squealing sound increased, the only thing she could hear above her silent screams.
Danielle woke with the scream in her throat, covering her eyes. She bolted upright and grabbed a close-by pillow, burying her face in it, still trying to protect her eyes from the demonic engine. Several minutes passed before the last wisps of the dream wore off, letting go of Danielle's mind and returning her sanity to her.
Sighing, she angrily threw the pillow down on the floor in self-disgust for letting the dream get to her like that, especially for making her scream like a wimpy little girl. Wiping her arms and hands on her shirt to get rid of the sheen of sweat that had broken out, she walked to the front window and gazed out at the setting dusk. A single lamp stood outside, bugs darting around in the glow.
The light didn't only show the bugs though. A dense white smoke, exactly like the one from her dream, slowly drifted by in the street, weaving through the trees and snaking along the ground and overhead power lines. Stepping outside, she walked along her driveway, eyeing her truck as she passed it, mentally kicking herself for being so immature as to think that the truck might actually come alive and attack her.
Reaching the road, she looked around to find the source of the smoke. She really didn't have any neighbors, at least not for a mile or so in either direction. The smoke was traveling from her left to the right so she peered down the left of the road. Her eyes finally spotted a glimmer of yellow and polished silver dully glinting in the lamp light a good distance away. She walked down the road to find a badly beaten up yellow Camaro with black racing stripes dumped on the side of the road. The windshield was cracked in the corner, the hood looked like a cow had been break-dancing on it; the sides of the car had gouges and burns in the paint. Her heart tore at the ghastly sight of the once-glorious hotrod. It broke when she saw a silver sports car behind the Camaro, in similar condition. Looking at the road, she spotted ugly tire marks and dirt gouges where the cars must have skid to a stop, probably a noise that could have entered her dream and awoken her.
Walking to the Camaro's driver's side window, she cautiously peered in, not knowing what to expect. To her slight amazement, yet full understanding, the keys sat on the seat, and she found the door to be unlocked. Checking the silver car, which turned out to be the remnants of a Pontiac Solstice, she found the same thing.
"Finders keepers dude. You can't leave cars sitting out here like this, with the keys to boot, and expect to find them when you come back. Though I don't know why anyone would even come back for either of these… They may not even be salvageable…"
Leaning into the Camaro's cab, she tried the ignition. She wasn't surprised when it didn't start, but she was surprised when the radio came on. Softly at first, then it grew a little louder.
"Now and again we try
To just stay alive.
Maybe we'll turn it around
'Cause it's not too late,
It's never too late.."
As the radio cracked and popped into nothing but static, something fierce inside Danielle snapped. She felt compelled, almost obligated, to at least try and save the two cars. She willed the gears of the Camaro to shift into neutral and they did, but only after immense effort. She pushed the car down the road, pausing every so often to catch her breath as the brakes seemed half locked. It didn't help that the car wobbled from side to side, possibly just bad misalignment of tires or, hopefully not, bent axles. She wondered how a car could get this damaged in the city or out on these roads. Nothing short of a monster-truck rally could have caused this much damage. She also wondered how she was supposed to make the sharp turn into her driveway while still pushing the car forward. It wasn't until the car refused to move anymore when she realized, to her astonishment, that she'd made it to her shabby garage door.
The sun had long set by now, but she quickly pulled the door open and pushed the car in. Turning on her workshop lamps and opening up a tool box, she didn't know where to start with the car. Exhausted and slightly exasperated, she fought with the car's door to open it and then half-sat, half-collapsed into the driver's seat. She rested her head back against the seat and shut her eyes, still trying to catch her breath. The leather seat seemed to depress and conform to her body, slowly reclining, inch by inch. It felt as if she was in the arms of a strong, yet nearly defeated, man who was clinging to her like she was the spark of life itself.
The radio popped softly, a moment of static, then with an almost forlorn whine, the radio quieted. Danielle fell asleep in the front seat, lights blazing around her. No trucks haunted her dreams this time, but an angry black smoke drifted at the outer fringes of her mind, threatening to choke it, but keeping its distance nonetheless. At one point, two red orbs, seemingly eyes, glared out of the smoke but disappeared without a blink.
When Danielle woke up the next morning, she went for the silver Pontiac but only found a wide deep hole in the ground, scorched black and in some parts still smoldering. The surrounding area was hung thick with the black fog, rising slowly and dissipating into the dreary morning sky.