The Getaway

It was fight or flight, and neither would have served any purpose. I wallowed in futility as the circle of moaning and shambling death closed in. My blood flooded with adrenaline. My brain overclocked.

I acted without thinking which, really, is to say I acted with all the facts in hand. Earlier my ears registered the discordant clanking of the engine, miraculously running despite its circumstances. It was now the only available option, no matter how improbable.

I grabbed its undead occupant by the scalp. I felt it tear when I snapped open the belt and flung him into his brethen. I slipped into the seat, put the car into reverse, and stepped on the gas.


Reaching under the dash yielded a mangled leg; it must have jammed on the accelerator then dislodged in the collision with the tree. Tattooed upon it was the nonsensical script “cthulhuburger.” I threw it aside and experienced a thrill of joy as the car lurched backwards.

It stalled.

Then died.

And I was back to square one.


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