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My eyes are closed as I dream. I feel the vibration of The Monster’s heart, her wonderful engine. The jolts in the steering wheel from the front wheels, and the shifter aching to go into the next gear. As long as my eyes are closed, I’m just driving. And what I experience is a dream.

Reality crashes into me with the force of a pick-up truck going ninety. My eyes open, looking over at the demon rednecks screaming, hooting, and hollering up a storm. There has to be a dozen of them in the bed of the truck alone, and another group crammed into the cab, too many. All screaming at me to join them. I let go of the screaming skull shifter knob, and randomly grab whatever I can, a MAC-10 it appears. And I just squeeze the trigger after I cross the SMG across my body. The burst slams home, noise insanely loud inside the car, I can feel the percussion rock my heart and ears. The ammo goes everywhere before the damned thing jams, and I just drop it out the window. The truck peels off a bit, the driver’s demonhead leaking from a bullet or two, but still grinning wickedly. I can fight, but I can never succeed in anything, just keep fighting, refuse to make it easy.

Up ahead is cracked and shattered concrete, a dented sign that cannot be read for all the bullet holes in it and blood splatter over it. Behind me are more demonsteeds, things that are horrific combinations of devil and cars, wicked, horrible, suffering, and eager to make others join their suffering. I can never escape, either, just run, as fast as The Monster will take me. I look at a bleak time of no victories, only in holding back the inevitable.

Damned if I’ll allow it to come one moment earlier.

Clutch, shift, gas, last gear, acceleration sluggish, wheel hard to keep straight. The Monster screams, she has taken a lot of abuse again recently, but her scream is more rage than pain, and she gives what she has.

I almost make it. Something behind me, not as damaged, slams into the rear-driver’s side of my rear bumper just as the front wheels are off the ground. Spinning happens soon as the rear wheels leave. All three axis of rotation are now out of control. Once again, I close my eyes, rather than believe their lies, and just try to go limp. Try to be a floating center of calm in a maelstrom of destruction.

In pain, The Monster screams, her sheet metal torn, a door flying off, the hood snapping, the radiator jamming into a jagged rock, and doesn’t leave when the rest of the car does. I scream as well, the interior smashing against my soft body. Bruises and grating injuries occur, I feel the asphalt on my legs as they slide around the glassless windshield while the front of the roof is on the road. Then a screeching sob comes out of her, and finally, she stops. The engine ticks and gasps, bits of radiator fluid dripping out with steam, a deathspasm as her heart refuses to give up, and wants to go that extra mile.

I am almost as bloody and broken, but I can still move. I leave tears and blood on The Monster, and limp towards the all-encompassing darkness. Even with my eyes closed, I can no longer drive…