Drivetime
Just a bite-sized short story today, inspired by a visit to a museum. To say more would be to spoil it! Enjoy “Drivetime”…
“You’re right. It is beautiful.”
It seemed almost fragile – the blue-painted shell of the bodywork, flared wheel arches, wood-framed windscreen. Polished brass gleamed in the sun.
Matt grinned at me, rightly smug. He reached over, and with a deliberate sense of the theatrical, opened the passenger door. “My lady, I’d be delighted if you’d ambulate in my horseless carriage.”
“You have reported this, right?”
“I will,” he grinned, “eventually. You have my word. But not before a quick run around the block. Just a few minutes, mind.”
“Surely they didn’t leave the keys in the ignition.”
“There were no keys. A simple toggle switch ignition.”
“I’m not going for a joyride in a replica antique. You don’t even know if it’s roadworthy.”
“Actually, I do. It purrs like a contented tabby.”
“I refuse to believe someone just abandoned this half a mile from the woods.”
“I told you, Suze, it’s been there for days. Unclaimed. A diamond in the rough, just like my girlfriend.”
“Thanks?”
“Just think of the looks you’ll get! No roof to enclose you, the wind tousling your hair!”
The pleated leather seats did look grand and comfortable. The headlights were a pair of brass electric lanterns.
“No way. Absolutely not. I’m going to phone the Council myself.”
A few minutes later, I was gripping the edge of the seat, the car bucking and rattling beneath us like some kind of mechanised horse. I cursed Matt for his boyish grin and infectious sense of adventure.
Just running it to the local depot, he said. Save them a trip. He knew a guy.
“I think it’s an electric car,” he said over the noise of the vibrating chassis.
“In Edwardian times?” I said, incredulously.
“Victorian,” he corrected me. “All the rage for the well-to-do country gent, I’m sure. Besides, look at the engine.”
I followed his gaze. A blue-white phosphorescence was bleeding from the seams in the bonnet. I could even hear a faint electric buzz on the air, like a muffled swarm of wasps.
Matt reached over and squeezed my hand. “I knew you’d have fun!”
After twenty minutes of driving – well past my prescribed limit - I was secretly loving it. Despite my growing sense of catholic guilt.
“I think we’re being stared at,” I told him. Beside us, goggle-eyed kids pressed up against windows, as rather more sensibly modern cars glided by. It was lucky we’d stayed on the outskirts of town – I had no wish to be personally responsible for five mile tailback.
“That’s the point!” he said laughingly. “Bask in the attention.”
Frowning a little, I glanced at the engine, which was emitting a faint haze of bluish steam. Every time we turned a corner, the car seemed to lurch queasily.
“Well, I think we better head back,” he said. “We don’t want to end up plastered over social media.”
“I suppose it’s worth living dangerously once in a while.”
Without warning, there was an ear-splitting crack. We both jolted in our seats.
“What was that?” Matt said, his grin faltering rapidly.
“You’re asking me?”
“Ignore it,” he said uncertainly. “we’ll be fine.”
We looked at each other nervously. I became acutely aware of my surroundings – the leafy estate we were travelling through had never looked so hostile. The engine issued a guttural growl, and my knuckles turned white.
“We’re driving way too fast,” I said, swallowing in a dry throat. “There’s quite a sharp turn up ahead.”
“Oh, no.” Matt was jabbing at the brake pedal, which protruded from the footwell like a bent nail.
“’Oh, no’? What the hell does that mean?”
He stared at me, his mouth slackening. “The brakes aren’t working, Suze.”
“Oh no,” I said, in absence of anything useful to say.
I felt sick to my stomach. This was no longer amusing. The road thundered by, the trees a tangle of blurry green and black. We were travelling fast enough that any attempt to leap from the car would be… inadvisable. We were a torpedo of boilerplate-blue, ready to flatten anything in our path. Something had to be done. And quickly.
At once my eyes widened - blue-white arcs of electricity were crawling from beneath the hood, like spiders.
“We have to cut the power!” I cried, scanning the footwell. There were lengthy brass pipes that fed the steering wheel and gearstick, and an array of small, highly polished toggle switches, like the light switches in my granny’s old farmhouse. I started kicking them wildly.
“Anything?” Matt said, his eyes glassy with alarm.
“We’re running out of time. There’s a dirt track up ahead. Make a left and take us into the field.”
“What? We’ll never make that turn!”
“Have you got any better suggestions?” I snapped.
I was about to grip the sides of the car, when I realised that something was happening. Something incredible.
Matt had already shrunk back in fright. I followed his gaze – barely believing what I could see.
The vehicle was transforming before our eyes.
With a clatter of metal, a latticework of brass tubes and iron coils were unfolding from hidden compartments in the vehicle, forming a kind of shell. Then the shell began to seeth with electrical arcs, like some nightmarish version of a gigantic Tesla coil.
With a flush of guilt, I looked down at my feet, sliding my boot away from the button marked ‘ETHER INJECTION’.
This appeared to be my doing.
“Uh,” I said, “what’s an ether injection?”
“No time!” he replied, “this is it. Hold on!”
Matt wrenched the steering wheel around, but it was too late.
There was a great scream of metal and tyres.
The car slammed directly into the one of the neat new bungalows, shredding it to pieces, exploding into bits, including us.
Everything went dark.
At least, that’s what should have happened.
Instead, I realised I could hear something. I was drifting toward consciousness, carried on a black tide.
I found myself being gently lifted - literally, by many arms.
“Madam?” Came an unfamiliar voice. Mellow, but strong.
I opened my eyes reluctantly, my vision swimming. I was being bodily supported by two strangers.
“Madam? How do you feel?”
“Like I’ve been dropped from a great height,” I croaked.
“Don’t be alarmed. My personal surgeon will examine you both,” the man was saying. “However, neither of you appear to have suffered any serious harm. We were drawn by the light. We found you entirely insensible, slumped in my car like discarded dolls.”
“I’m so sorry,” I said, blinking away the blue-white afterglow. “My boyfriend and I were just driving to the depot in… an abandoned vintage touring car. As you do.”
I found myself looking into the face of an immaculately dressed young man in a grey frock coat and bowler hat. He laughed warmly.
“Actually, my dear, you’ve done me a great favour by returning my property.”
I could only murmur in reply.
“Entirely my fault, you see. I completely botched the last engine test. Thought I’d lost my life’s work forever. I am in your debt!”
I was joined by my groggy, stumbling boyfriend. “What’s going on here? Who are you?”
“Thomas Parker,” the man replied, shaking Matt’s hand enthusiastically. “Inventor of the world’s first ‘ether’-driven horseless carriage. After today, however, I fear my creation may be forced into early retirement. Far too dangerous, you see.”
“Good to meet you,” I said, numbly.
Mr Parker grinned mischievously. “Welcome to the 19th Century!”