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Featured Author - October Bruekmann Story of the week: View past Author's of the Month. |
I held on to her sleeve as she tried to twirl herself around in the backseat. There was hardly anything else I could do. Her head was banged now listlessly against the roof of the cab. Her arm flopped dully against the window. Her legs eventually stopped their thrashing. The fury of her little episode was subsiding. She seemed to be regaining control of herself again. I remember thinking clearly that I never realized how heavy imitation leather could get when it was wet. “Damn, uh, look. I’m sorry I hit...” and then I noticed something. “What the hell?!” I was still holding her arm. I pulled it all the way out of the sleeve. Her arm was as white as the rest of her body. And it was completely rigid. Wires and metal rods and microchips and such jingled like wind chimes at one end. No sparks or other major fanfare. Just a lifeless piece of machinery. Then I could smell smoke. A tongue of orange flame licked her left shoulder brightly, right where the arm that I held had once been. The developing flame brightened the whole inside of the cab. It was becoming a conflagration of burning clothing. And burning plastic. I suppose I should have known. |
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