I can see that you're having a good time.

"Not for long."

Oh?

"For the thirty-fucking-fifth time; DISAPPEAR! Go away, dig a hole in the ground, crawl into it, and DIE will you?!"

Tsk. Hostility at its finest. Why don't you direct that hostility on dear Cora? You can get rid of her that way.

"Fuck off."

It's quite simple. Just r--

"JUST SHUT THE HELL UP."

If you won't dispose of her, I will.

"You all right, Mort?" Cora posed. She turned her head to look at him for a moment before fixing her eyes upon the long stretch of asphault ahead.

"Mhmm. I can handle it for a little while longer,"he retorted, regaining the ability to pronounce all of his letters. "D'ya think you can turn on some music? Maybe something I'll know?"

"Oh, sure! You could've just turned the radio on yourself. You're welcome to do that whenever. Are you bored?"

He nodded as his optics followed the path of her hand down to turn the stereo knob, then to a CD, back to the radio panel where a few buttons were pressed, and finally to the volume and bass-level lever. Mort barely had the time to brace himself during the hissing radio-like silence before a running bass line exploded into being, so spontaneously that the whole car appeared to hop on the first note. The startled author leapt in his seat and screamed as a result of the sudden obnoxious bellowing of the car's speaker system. As he sat there with his eyes wide and his breathing quickened, he recognized that wild beat. He calmed a bit, then brandished a smile. The song was used in a car commercial. The lyrics were at last approaching, and upon their arrival, the driver broke out in song simultaneously with the CD.

"I'm too sexy for my shirt, too sexy for my shirt..."

And without warning, she pulled off her jacket and tossed it in a "sexy" way over her shoulder and into the backseat. Then, she ran her fingers through her long, shining brown hair, desperately struggling not to let her laughter make her fumble the next line. "So sexy it huuurrttttssss..."

Morton was laughing so uncontrollably that he couldn't keep his head up. What ridiculous antics!

You trust her too much.

Damn. And Mort thought the music would drive that pest away.

Hello? No answer? Come on, Mr. Rainey.

"Hello, this is Morton Rainey, and I'm busy at the moment. If you are a publisher, press 1. If you are a friend or family member, press 2. If you are the orthodontist, press 3. If you are John Shooter, press 666 and go to Hell!"

Kill her. She'll only use you. She's already tricked you once. She can do it again.

"She tricked me to HELP ME. Now, go away. Take a nice long vacation. Anywhere but in my head. Thanks much. Toodles!

Unexpectedly Morton's body turned to face the driver of the car. His countenance transformed completely, twisting into an expression of hidden hatred. Though his face showed no emotion in particular, the malicious fire in his eyes portrayed pure enmity. He let his brows droop, as if he didn't care to use the muscles to keep them lifted. It gave his fine-boned, gorgeous face such a displeasing look. Gradually his head slid into the position of a person who has stumbled upon a penny on the ground, yet his loathing optics remained upon the light-hearted woman with an increasing expression of resentment and disgust.

Cora took note of the abrupt alteration in Mort's mood. She watched it out of the corner of her eye.

"You okay?" she questioned nervously, a calm demeanor painted over her equally nervous face.

"Oh, I'm fine. Really, I'm fine,"he responded...Or...Would have responded if his lips would have cooperated with him and moved on dictation. He quirked an eyebrow at this strange behavior. His brow refused to move as well. Nothing was moving on command. It were as if he was ripped out of a chair and thrown away from a control panel that was his body's functions. Instantaneously, he knew what had occured.

"Shooter, you son of a bitch! Let me out! Get your sorry ass back in here!"

I warned you, Mr. Rainey. I did. You can't tell me I didn't.

"Dammit, she hasn't done anyting!"

As far as you know, there's nothing wrong with her.

"What does that mean?"
There was silence. Dead silence.

"Shooter...Talk to me. John! God damn it!

Mort's hand extended into the pocket of his robe and groped around for the oh-so popular tool he had used numerous times. Often, he used it at his desk. One of the screws in the drawer kept falling out, and he would have to keep fixing it, so he left it in his pocket. The last time he used it, however, was not to fix that pesky desk. His hand closed around the battered handle. At a deliberate pace, he drew it out and raised it up behind his head like a football. He paused a few seconds before bringing it down forcefully and double-quick. Cora acted more expeditiously than Mort and forced the steering wheel as far as it would go to the left. The car went for an unintended spin, tossing the possessed being violently into the back.

Cora slammed the brakes, and cautiously peered into the back, panting. He was out cold. He must have hit the rear window. She spun back around and settled into her seat, resting her head upon the steering wheel. Such a crazy, crazy man. The poor thing. She figured it must have been the result of living alone, or maybe being shunned by society. By the time she fully composed herself it was sunset. The car made its way swiftly down the road, quickly coming upon an intersection.

The woman peered into the rear-view mirror. No vehicles were behind. Nothing was behind but the road and her jacket upon the back seat. Nothing. Nothing?! The screwdriver whizzed over the top of her skull, missing her forehead by a small gap. By the time she had turned about to see Mort, the head of the old screwdriver came for her face. She was paralyzed in terror, her eyes following the screwdriver on its course to her face. She was a doe in the headlights. The entire world seemed to freeze except for the malignant tool. It grew larger and larger as it came closer and closer. The steel tip was soiled with dried blood. Cora knew she had to move. She saw the tool coming for her, the sitaution playing in slow motion in her head. Her mind told her to move, but her body refused to react. Was this why the people of Tashmore failed to talk about him? Her eyes shut tightly... This was it. It was all going to end for her like this.

Both Rainey and White shot into the roof of the convertable as it made a 180 degree flip. The metal frame of the car closed around them, trapping both of Mort's legs and Cora's arm. They were both screaming, tears streaming down their battered faces. Sparks flew as the car went skidding along the road. The engine ignited, the flame leaping up with a roar and then shrinking into a smaller fire. Cora's back was brutally singed.

"Cora! Cora!" Mort cried, watching the girl go unconscious. There was laughing...Morbid laughter echoing through the confines of his mind.

Now we're all going to die. The engine's going to explode and there's nothing any of us can do to stop it.

"YOU...IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT!!!"

What are you going to do about it, Mr. Rainey? I'm safe in your imagination now.

"If I die, you die with me. Remember, fucker?"

Of course I do.

Before Mort was able to riposte, his vision left him and he felt nothing. He heard nothing. Everything was peaceful...So tranquil...

Cora awoke abruptly to the sound of sirens. Her eyes fluttered open . The first thing she perceived was her car; A twisted heap of metal on fire with men climbing all over it and digging through it. Great. Next thing she found was that she was laying on a stretcher, strapped down, wrapped in bandages, and pierced with numerous tubes. Painfully she turned her head to look at the nurse.

"What the fu--" her voise rasped.

"Oh! You're awake! How do you feel?" the nurse questioned, being sure to cut the woman off before she was able to make use of the colorful word she was about to use.

"Like hell. Where's Mort?"

"Who?"

"Mort. The man who was with me."

"...What man? There was a man???"

Her heart sank. Tears flowed silently down her cheeks and onto the stretcher's pillow. They didn't find Mort...He was gone! Mort was gone! She felt so guilty, though it was because of his intentional murder scheme that made them crash. Somehow, she found it in her heart to care for him. There was something about him that made her think that he wasn't crazy or the least bit corrupt at all. "Oh, God...God, no...It's all my fault..."