Corvette

 

One pulled in front of him as he came home from work. Traffic was heavy, but it didn’t dart in front of him like a compact does, afraid the gap will close. It didn’t crowd him or cut him off to make its way over. It glided. He, and the cars around him instinctively made room, the way people make way for a beautiful woman moving through a thick crowd. And it was like a beautiful woman, he thought. It flaunted its curves brazenly, knowing that all eyes followed it as it moved, some in desire, some in envy. Its stance somehow suggested a centerfold, confident in her seductive power.

 

The corvette had always been Jack’s favorite car. In the past few years as his career took off, he had been tempted more than once to buy one, but better sense always prevailed. The knowledge that there were thousands of much more productive ways to use or invest his money held him back. It certainly didn’t stop him from looking, though. It was a rare thing for him to be on the street with one and not notice it. Sometimes he would see one in a parking lot and approach. He would walk around it a couple times, admiring it from every angle. Sometimes he would reach out and lightly touch a fender, feeling a sort of cautious guilt, as if he had walked up to another man’s sleeping wife and touched her hair.

 

The corvette was soon gone, but it had caught his fancy. Jack knew he would have to drive by the showroom on his way home. He made the necessary turns and was soon making a slow pass by the glass front facing the street. The dealership always gave their corvette a prominent position on the showroom floor, the same way an office puts the prettiest secretary at the front desk. It’s what catches your eye and reels you in.

 

This one was an extravagant, showy color of red. It was parked with its tires turned sharply, like a reclining woman leaning on her elbow. Everything about it invited closer inspection, and since he had the time, Jack decided to go inside, if only to see how much they were selling for now.

 

As he opened the glass door to the showroom, Jack was pleasantly surprised to find that he wasn’t immediately descended upon by a salesman. In fact, as he looked around, he couldn’t see anyone at all in the showroom. He heard a barely audible hiss as the door swung shut behind him, bringing to his attention that the room was also completely silent. He couldn’t hear any noise from the street, and the building was apparently empty of people before he came in.

 

He started towards the corvette. His footsteps on the tile echoed loudly through the room, making him cringe and try to walk more softly. He approached the car slowly, walking around it in his usual way. The windows were rolled down to give a better view of the interior, which featured an indulgent amount of black leather. He had always thought he would like to have a black corvette, but this red one had very strong appeal.

 

Jack took a step back. The sweep of the thing was astounding. The lines were elegant. The car was imbued with the aggressive charm of a seductress. Very softly, he spoke.

 

"Hello gorgeous."

 

Hello.

 

Jack smiled. What a lovely machine!

 

"If I didn’t have a hundred more responsible things I needed my money for, I’d take you home with me in an instant."

 

I’m sorry you can’t. You could always sit inside me for a moment. That certainly wouldn’t hurt anything.

 

"I think I’ll at least sit in you for a bit. That won’t hurt anything."

 

Jack opened the door and gingerly slid inside. The leather squeaked with a pleasing "br-a-a-a-p" as he slid into the seat. It was comfortable. The leather was cool and smooth to the touch - the bucket seat like an embrace from behind. Jack exhaled, shifted his weight, then ran his hands over the steering wheel and console.

 

Mmmmmm. That feels nice. Why don’t you try out the gearshift?

 

Jack put his hand on the gearshift. It felt good in his hand. He pushed in the clutch, and then slid into first gear.

 

Oh! I like that! Imagine what we could do together. Every inch of me was designed for one thing: to go fast. When you punch my accelerator, my engine will snarl like a tiger. My tires will bite the road. I long for the taste of hot pavement beneath me. I want to go fast. Take me for a ride. Try second gear.

 

Jack went through the gears. His eyes became unfocused and his jaw went slack. He went through the motions of a fast start, then imagined he was winding out the high gears on an open road, hot wind in his hair. It felt perfect.

 

"She’s beautiful, isn’t she?"

 

Jack started. He had heard the footsteps approaching, but hadn’t consciously placed the salesman until he was right outside the window. The salesman was peering in with a pleasant smile on his face. Years of experience had taught him the signs of an easy catch, and Jack was beaming every one of them.

 

"Yeah, but a little out of my price range, I’m afraid."

 

"If you want it to happen, we can make it happen. But don’t worry about price for now. There’s no pressure. Just have yourself a good look. Here’s the key if you want to start her. If you want a test drive, just let me know."

 

Jack hesitated for a moment, and then reached out for the proffered keys. The salesman smiled one more, then started back towards the entrance. Years of experience had taught him something else: corvettes sell themselves.

 

Jack fingered the key absently.

 

Do it. Start me. Send the spark deep inside me. Ignite me.

 

Jack slipped the key into the ignition and turned. The engine flared to life, and then settled down to a throaty purr.

 

Feel how alive I am. I’m trembling now. I want to tear the pavement and slice the air. Rev me!

 

Jack revved the engine, feeling somewhat juvenile at doing so, but also quite satisfied with the throaty roar that resulted. He was hooked. He knew that, one way or another, he would be driving a corvette home today. The massive sum of money involved made him feel a little giddy.

 

"What do you say, baby? What shall I call you?"

 

Anything but my name. anything but my name

 

Jack was generally a safe driver. After he got his corvette he became even more cautious, always conscious of not spoiling his investment. And he glided. He occasionally found a perverse pleasure in pulling away from a stoplight at half the speed most people would. The vanity of the car demanded slow, deliberate movement, always the center of attention. Away from an audience, though, the sheer power available was always a temptation - one he rarely avoided.

 

Today Jack was driving through a long stretch of empty desert road. The car felt light and nimble. He had opened up to about 90 mph, and was cruising along in mid-4th gear. The scenery passed at a blur, and the smooth road felt like air beneath him. Every once in a while he passed a car, but for the most part, he had the road to himself.

 

It took Jack a moment to realize that the sudden whoosh of air to his left and the rapidly diminishing figure in front of him added up to his having been unexpectedly passed by a Porsche going much faster than he was. Jack swore and clutched the steering wheel tightly. "What kind of idiot . . . "

 

I can go that fast. Let’s pace him.

 

"I wonder how fast that idiot is going. I can pace him for a minute here and find out."

 

Jack pushed the accelerator to the floor and was rewarded by a roar and a sudden acceleration through the top of 4th gear and well into 5th. He held the car at a blistering 135 mph for a minute or so until he was within about a quarter-mile of the Porsche. He dropped his speed until he paced the other car. It was going about 125. It was an older one, and probably couldn’t go much over 150 unless it had been modified or rebuilt.

 

Think how surprised that guy would be if we passed him at 160. Let’s show him what real speed is.

 

Jack hesitated. The theoretical top speed of his car was 170 mph, but that wasn’t done much off the racetrack. He might be able to do 160 if he had a good start. He eased off the accelerator, smiling to himself. He would show that Porsche what real speed was.

 

After a minute or so at just over 100 mph, Jack again punched the accelerator. Again he flew through 4th gear and into 5th, winding that gear to the top as well. The Porsche came into sight again just as Jack slid into 6th gear at 140 mph. Jack was reaching for 150 mph as he crossed the yellow line to pass. The road was clear for a couple miles ahead yet. The Porsche had apparently seen him coming, though. By the time Jack had pulled up beside the other car, both cars had topped 150. Both engines were screaming. Jack gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white. His speedometer continued to climb, but slowly. The Porsche was losing ground inch by inch, but too slowly. There was a slight downgrade coming up in the road. The yellow line turned solid only just ahead, signaling decreased visibility. He had to drop back.

 

We can do it! Just a touch more speed and we’ll be around him in time! DO IT!

 

Jack glanced at his speedometer: 158 mph. He decided to go for it. He was almost past the Porsche when he saw the upright exhaust pipes of a semi-truck coming towards him in his lane. Jack waited another second, and nudged the car to the right, hoping that he had enough of a lead on the Porsche to avoid a collision. He cut off the Porsche by what couldn’t have been more than a few inches, only an instant before they both passed the oncoming semi in a high-pitched whistle of compressed air.

 

The downgrade started just as the gust of air from the passing semi hit both cars. The combined effect left Jack without any traction just long for him to slightly correct the car’s direction, and then not feeling any change, correct a little further. When traction caught again, the corvette pulled into the oncoming lane again. Jack corrected right, braking, but again he had overcorrected. The Porsche had been braking from the moment Jack had cut him off, and had his car under control and out of the way, but Jack was heading for the ditch off the right side of the road. Jack pulled left once more, frantically trying to avoid losing control. He heard all four tires squealing, and soon he was sliding sideways down the road, through the oncoming lane once more, and towards the left bank.

 

When Jack left the road, the car hit the dirt sliding sideways and rolled. He had managed to slow the car to about 110 mph, which was still plenty fast to tear pieces off the car from the repeated impacts and centrifugal force. Jack blacked out after the first bounce.

 

When he regained consciousness, he was hanging upside down from his seatbelt. His only sensation was a tickle on his cheek. Something was trickling over his face heading towards his hairline. It was a very odd feeling to have something trickle in that direction, and he couldn’t think that he had ever felt it before. He touched his face. It was blood. He had no idea where it was coming from. He looked up. Blood was dripping down onto the ceiling of his car.

 

You’re mine now.

 

Jack felt a chill somewhere deep in his bowels. He started to say something, he didn’t know what, but he couldn’t speak. For that matter, he realized, he couldn’t even breathe.

 

Do you know who I am, Jack?

 

Jack realized he was probably going to die. He felt himself moving towards a blackout again.

 

I am you, Jack. Just you. I’m that part of you that you should never listen to. You did, though, and now you are mine. Completely mine.

 

completely mine

 

-J.R. Willett