Lost Souls Book 1 Collison

The beat up, half-dead Datsun B210 raced down the highway, its engine whining like an old sewing machine with a brick tied to the foot pedal. In its wake, a rooster tail of blue-tinged smoke belched from its tail pipe as it wove in and out of traffic. The Steering wheel bucked violently, forcing the young woman in the drivers seat, to keep her hands clenched in a death grip around it, in order to keep the little car heading in a straight line...more or less.  A quick glance at the clock display and her stomach twisted in dismay. With a determined grimace, she gritted her teeth together, focused on the road ahead and pushed the accelerator a little farther to the floor. She didn't know if the tired, four-cylinder engine had anything left in it to give, bht she had to try. When nothing immediately happened, she prayed that she hadn't accidentally flooded the engine. The little car gave a wheezy cough of protest, paused for a few breathless seconds as if it didn't know what to do with the extra fuel, and then shot forward, startling its surprised driver. As she was already fifteen minutes late for her shirt, Tabby wasn't about to question the unexpected burst of speed. The engine screamed; emitting loud, grinding, metallic noises Tabby knew in her gut didn't bode well. Desperation made it easy for her to adopt an ignorance-is-bliss attitude and she stubbornly ignored the disturbing signs of trouble the car was giving off. That didn't mean she wasn't praying like mad as she bravely squeezed the accelerator a fraction of an inch more, hoping the little car didn't explode as it barrelled ahead. A funny thought struck her: if her poor car could talk, it probably would have been chanting: "I think I can, I think I can...." as it flow past the other vehicles in the lane next to hers. Tabitha sowre when she anxiously squinted at the time display that was pulsing from barely legible to black. With a sinking feeling, she mentally calculated exactly how late she was going to be getting to work...again. "f*****g stupid car!" She slammed her palm in frustration against the centre of the steering wheel, not worried about sounding the horn. That particular option had givien up the fight months ago, taking the radio and the right turn signal with it when it went.  The beater hadn't wanted to start tonight, something that its aging carburetor occurrence. Usually she could coax the engine to start after a few tries, tonight the stupid thing had stubbornly flooded and she'd had to wait fifteen minutes before the engine had grudgingly turned over and stayed running. Unfortunately, judging by the fluctuating brightness level of the dash lights and the clock that kept fading in and out of view, it looked like her alternator was in the process of waving good-bye to her too. The engine coughed again and this time, the car perceptibly slowed, despite Tabby practically standing on the gas pedal. Apparently that little burst of speed was all the little car had left in it. The harder she pushed it, the more likely it was becoming that she was going to need a miracle in order to get to work at all.  "Please don't stall! We're almost there! Just a little bit farther baby, you can do it!" She sent her fervent prayers and optimistic sentiments up into the stratosphere, hoping that some kindly god was looking down on her and might happen to hear and take pity on her. She could seriously use a does of good luck right now - something along the lines of a new job or maybe a Ferrari.  A Ferrari would be really, really nice, at least she could get to her s**t job in style. She grimaced, the pleasant daydream going up in a puff of smoke. Reality sucked - like really sucked. Tabby knew the closet she would be getting her sorry ass handed to her when Jerry fired her for being late again.  The car belched and a dirty cloud of blue-grey smoke erupted out of the tail pipe. Irritated motorists behind her honked angrily as their visibility disappeared as they drove into her smokescreen.  "Sorry!" She called out the window. Even though it was impossible for anyone to have heard her, apologizing for her car's obnoxious behaviour made her feel marginally better.  In truth, she wished she could disappear.  When had driving become so damn humiliating?  The way the car was acting pretty much put paid to the nicer version of her daydream not happening anytime soon. As much as she was rushing to get there, Tabby was dreading arriving at work.The bar and grill where she worked as a short-order cook had recently been sold and the new owner was a colossal prick. Thanks to her unreliable car, she'd already been late five times in the past three weeks. The last time, Jerry had given her a warning that if it happened one more time, she'd be out of a job; a crappy, stupid, menial job the jerk knew she desperately needed.  Now her crappy, stupid s**t-box of a car was going to lose it for her.  "f**k my life," she groaned, urging the car to please, please, please keep moving and stubbornly refusing to acknowledge the ominous tendrils of white smoke beginning to escape from under the hood. The car limped along for the next few miles, sputtering and wheezing like a waterlogged accordion and making such horrendous noises that she attracted strange looks from the occupants in the other passing cars. Tabby shrunk down in embarrassment and hid behind her steering wheel, blowing out a relieved breath when the sign for her exit finally appeared ahead. She sniffed, a suspiciously sweet-burnt odor was wafting into the car from the vents and she groaned in dismay. Going by the humid reek of hot metal that was getting stronger by the minute, exiting off the highway couldn't happen fast enough for the little car.  Sure enough, as soon as its bald tires skidded on to the exit ramp, the dash lit up like a Christmas tree as the engine temperature soared and the engine warning light blazed briefly into life, faded away, and finally settled into pulsing, weakly in an attempt to get her attention. She didn't need the pathetically glowing light to tell her she'd pushed the old car too hard this time. The thick cloud of white steam escaping from under her hood was doing that job just fine. Well wasn't that just craptastic? She would have closed her eyes, if she hadn't been driving. Billowing steam dashed her hopes and told her that she and the car were running on borrowed time. Tabby mentally willed the car to keep going just a little farther; they were only a couple of blocks away now.  Just get me to work! Please? She really, really couldn't afford to lose her job. Please, pretty please, with high octane fuel on top? She didn't know if begging the little s**t-box to keep going would do any good, but she was so badly out of options that it seemed reasonable to try.  She merged onto the city street and immediately slowed down. Her car shuddered and rattled alarmingly as the stress on the engine abated, but the temperature light remained stubbornly on and steam was pouring out thicker than ever, warning Tabby that not all was copacetic under the hood.  She nursed the car for a few more blocks, immensely relieved when the garish, neon sign for Jack's Bar & Grill finally came into view around the last corner. Tabby pulled into the parking lot just as plumes of white smoke began billowing out from under the hood in earnest. As if it could sense the end of the line, the engine gave one last phlegmy belch, sputtered and then stalled.  She coasted it into a parking stall, thankful the little car didn't have power steering and she could still steer the vehicle well enough to park it instead of crashing it. Barely able to see, she grabber her purse and bailed out of the driver's side door in a rush, afraid the car was going to blow up or catch fire. After sprinting a few yards away, Tabby stopped, spun around and glared at the useless pile of metal that used to be her only form of transportation.  "Stupid, piece of s**t car," she muttered sadly, shaking her head in utter dismay. Nick, one of the bartenders on shift that evening, and a close friend of Tabby's, was loitering off to the side of the building, watching the commotion with a raised eyebrow, while he puffed on a cigarette. He sauntered across the lot, curiosity and concern written all over his handsome face.  "Problems?" he drawled with his smoke dangling from the side of his mouth, trying not to laugh at the ridiculous sight.  "Nope, it's supposed to do that, asshole," she snapped back sarcastically. He lifted his hands up, warding her off and had the audacity to laugh.  "Really, Nick? Can't you see..." she pointed accusingly at her car that was in the process of streaming and hissing like a geyser. "...how incredibly f****d I am now?" "Whoa! Easy there tiger, I was only teasing, Tabs." He took a long draw off his cigarette and blew the longful of thick smoke straight into the air above his head, setting loose a series of smoke rings Taby would have found impressive had her life not been in the process of imploding.  "Sorry about the beast, by the way," he mumbled apologetically. She sighed, "No. I'm sorry, Nick. You don't deserve having your head bitten off just because I'm f*****g late again. Jerry's going to flip his s**t when I get inside." A lock of her unruly, curly hair fell in front of her eyes and she pushed it away, suddenly overcome by the urge to plop her butt down on the pavement and start bawling. She stared hopelessly at her car, still belching gouts of white smoke. "Think it'll be okay? I mean, should I call the fire department or something?" "Nah, white smoke's nothing to really freak out about, probably just popped a hose or something," he sniffer the air. "Smell that? Sweet...kind of smells like cake? That's just water and antifreeze boiling off. Nothing's on fire. Now black smoke, that would be bad, but this s**t's nothing to panic over." He paused and the two of them stared helplessly at the dying, little car. He happened to glance down and noticed something that Tabby had missed. "Uh oh, I hate to be the bearer of bad news," he shook his head, directing Tabby's attention to the growing puddle of oil spreading out from underneath the front of her car. "I think it might be something more tragic than a blown hose. I think your faithful steed has run its last race. Looks like you might have blown your engine, honey." Tabby just groaned, glaring daggers at the car, hot tears pricking at her eyes. "What the hell am I supposed to do now?" she asked forlornly.  "Come on, darlin', we might as well go face the music inside. We'll figure it out later. There's no need to stand here and watch it go through its death throes." He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, hugged her to him and led her around the back of the building to the kitchen's employee entrance.