By Kassidy Grant
The car was a 1989 cyan blue Volkswagen with black tires and shiny silver hubcaps. The antenna was rusted and flapping in the wind. One of the headlights was shattered and broken on the left had side. The front bumper was thick and had a red and white striped bar over it. It was almost like a candy cane. The paint job was shiny and glistened in the sun, giving a look that made it seem as if there was glitter in the paint. The door handles were brighter than aluminum and were hot to the touch if left out in the sun too long. Getting into the car, lead to a fall of about one foot that was broken by the cushion of the hot leather seats. The seats were tall and red with indented stripes along the back and butt. White lining followed the seat and hugged the entire car. The door walls all had ridges and the color went on and off. Blue to white, and blue to white and back to blue again. Next to the seat stood a long white emergency break that was a different texture from everything else in the car. It was bumpy and had grips, almost like they wanted to stand out. The gear shot straight from the heather grey plush like floors, and had a ball as a handle. The steering wheel was white and thin with the Volkswagen emblem staring at whoever is driving. Behind that sat the gas meter that would light up a bright orange when the headlights were turned on. The air vent took up the entire dashboard. It was lustrous silver just like the handles and the hub caps.
Her fingers slid across the steel part of the dashboard as she adjusted the air conditioning in the old car she drove. She manually rolled the windows down to let the crisp wind of the hot day caress her Carmel colored skin which was covered freckles. A beautiful girl she was, with curly hair that was long and beach sand brown. Her father a well rounded black man, and her mother a hard working white female married, leaving them with such a beauty. Her destination was just a car ride from Tampa to Miami to gather a few things from the college she attended the previous year. She was relaxed and at peace while driving. Before she knew it she was logged between the dull wooden pole of a street light and the grill of a Dodge truck. She lies face to face with front of the car watching the blood drip slowly down onto her car. Blood that she knew wasn't hers. The car backed up and made a sharp turn to the right and then stopped. She began to pick up her phone to call 911 but she was then frenzied by something far worse. Her heart began to beat against the scarlet red heart walk t-shirt. She starred down the barrel of LC9 Lightweight Compact 9mm gun.
"Drive. Fast. And if you so much as look as if you are going to pull a move I will pull the trigger, splattering your brain matter against window".
"Where to?"
She didn't want to make eye contact with him but she felt as if she had to. She looked to her left and saw a man with a black ski mask with holes cut out from the eyes and smaller holes so he could breather. He wore a normal green shirt that read "IM LUCKY" which seemed to be quite odd for the situation he was in at the current time. His jeans were nice near the pockets, but the bottom of them were tattered and brown from walking the streets of the places he had been, telling the stories of what he was been through. He wore shoes that were not fully laced and the laces were not fully threaded. He was dingy and the way he gripped his right pocket made her suspicious about what could happen next.
"I need you to take this exit coming up on the left, after you take it there's going to be an old burned down house on the right. Turn into the car port and stay there. I'm going to get out of the car and go inside. You stay in and someone will come out and greet you"
She careened off of the high way and made her way to the house the man told her about. She pulled up to the house that was burnt on the left side. It was almost like it was a fire that only affected that part of the house. It was rigid and the shutters fell harshly onto the dead yellow grass and shattered. He fiddled with the door before stumbling out, and ripping off the ski mask to reveal a man with black hair that had been cut short to the scalp. He knocked on the beat up wooden door and walked. He squeezed through the door as he slid passes a women. This was the women he told her about. She was short and compact with black hair that was styled into a boy cut. She wore a tight black V-neck that nearly choked her breasts causing them to spill out of her shirt. She wore loose cargos that did nothing for her body. They were short with blood stains splattered across the front and black sneakers with tape all along the bottom to avoid foot prints. The man pulled a hard drive out of his pocket and placed it into the purse which she then swung over her shoulder and walked towards her car. He pulled her back and whispered something in her ear and grabbed her arm until he could feel the blood pumping through her veins. He handed her a gun and sent her off. She squinted her eyes as the silver from the car beamed off the suns reflection hitting her in the face. It was almost as if it wanted her to leave. She grabbed the handle and snatched back when she realized it was hot.
"Open up." The girl with the Carmel skin reached as far as she could to open the door.
"Be careful. The seats are hot." She got in and immediately pointed the gun at her head. "Drive." She started up the engine and reached for the long gear from out of the ground and put the car into drive. The minute she hit the high way, the black haired girl dropped the gun in the leather seats and slumped over in relief. Startled the Caramel hair girl looked over to her right in utter shock
"Are you okay?"
"No everything is fine. I need you to go as far away as possible from this man. He is no good. I've been in that house for a year now and all he has done was turn me into this murderer that I'm not! Do you see this blood? It isn't mine. None of this stuff is mine. Not even my hair. He has his girlfriend locked up in that house. He has stripped her and sequestered her of her dignity. He dyed my hair to make me look like her, and he's always touching me and won't leave me alone. Why can't he just untie her and set her free? Huh?"
She stumbled over some of her words, out of breath from explaining what she's been through. She was overwhelmed with fear and didn't know what to expect next.
"Well what about the bag? What's in there?"
"This is a hard drive and at exactly 4:00 today he sends a file to it and on it will be the slaughtering of that girl in the house. And I have the hard drive."
She felt around the back of her head and gestured for the Carmel girl to touch it. She felt it and was confused.
"It's a tracking device and we have to drive to this address to prevent the it from going off"
"Going off? And what happens when it goes off."
"It explodes" she said as the tears welled up in her eyes.
"We have to go. Now. I won't shoot you I promise"
She tossed the gun out of the window and sat back in the car. Relaxed. They drove for hours trying hard to reach their destination. The time now was now 3:48 and time was only moving faster. The girl with the Carmel hair began to cry
"I'm going as fast as I can. I'm so sorry"
They drove and drove. Not long after a boisterous sound uttered from the girls neck. They looked each other in the eyes and boom. The car was gone, blowing bits of brown curly hair and car parts everywhere. The once shiny cyan blue beetle was now hotter than its ever been. The leather seats melted on to various places of the high way. The silver aluminum-like handles and grill were now devoured by the bright orange flame. The last piece of leather fell from the sky and landed on the melted hard drive. It read "Old Betsie" stripped from that cyan Volkswagen.
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