By Simon Drax
September 15, 2009
(Be sure to check out The Simon Drax Blog for Simon's Weekly Rap with Mori Kim Marr)
* * *
“Curse it, Billy,” Trista said, “slow down.”
Through the windshield the dark road was a dizzying and silent blur, as if the car sped inexorable toward annihilation.
“Relax,” Billy droned. He sat slumped at the wheel, seemingly indifferent but his eyes were wide, awake. “We’re offline, off the grid, we’re the only ones out here.” The speedometer clicked past 162kph. “We are the speed-freak phantoms of the freeway!” 164kph. “We are the warriors of the waste!” 166kph.
“We are the terrified prisoners of the backseat,” Trista said in the shadows beside Mori. “Slow down, boy, before my ancient rotten heart pounds through my chest.”
Sleepily, Mori wondered if Trista played the nervous passenger merely to swell Billy’s frequently bruised ego; everyone knew that Frost could override the car’s systems in a nano-second. Perhaps it did Billy good to kid himself, to believe that he was giving the girls a ‘good scare.’
Still… 168kph…
“Hey, psi-boy,” Mori said, sitting up with a wince and trying to stretch. They had been driving for hours. She glanced at the speedometer. “Uh, why don’t you lay off the pedal a little and tell me some more—”
“—about the time I swerved into oncoming traffic and caused a multiple pile-up? Bodies everywhere.” 172kph…
“Heh. You are a funny guy! No, tell me more about your, um… powers.”
“My powers?” Billy said, waiting. The speedometer dropped a notch. “Yeah…?”
“Yeah,” Mori said, thinking. “Can you, like—”
“Billy!” Trista said with sharp and sudden cruelty. “Tell Mori about the time the Golgothic agents chased you into a church and you hid behind a Nun.”
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