A simple job

[Jaxen Marveet]

Boda

Thought abandoned, body maddenly sluggish, Boda’s bones carried him swift as they could, but to his dying day he would curse aging. Lights flared halos around the house as he streaked to the car. Crashes and booms echoed in his ears like thunder pounding his ribcage. His heart beat wild as a crazed horse. Feet pattered across wet asphalt, knobby fingers fumbling at the car door. He knew if he just got to the car he’d be safe! They couldn’t outrun a car. No matter what kind of monster chased him down. Bullets flew faster than legs, though. He kept his head low, wary of the fragile glass. The engine roared to life. Dashboard glowing in neon blurs. So close! In his youth he drag-raced around the Ring Roads, raging ahead at the speed of lightning. He remembered laughing, throwing his competitors a long-middle finger as he passed them by. Jaxen raced too. Many a night they shared stories over vodka, the young prick amazed at the absurd things old men did when they were young cocks.

Faster than he ever did as a dick-sucking kid, he flew into gear and the vehicle sped off to the sound of screeching tires. The inferno behind him grew smaller as the street blurred by. The blurry world fogged, and his heart pound harder than he knew it could, but he was escaping. By the skin of his teeth, he was escaping.

Then time slowed infinitely down. The car stopped, but he kept going. Claws shrieked past his face and hands. Crashes pounded his ears. He gasped to scream, but no air came in. His old bones wouldn’t move except to lift a hand for help. The last thing he saw were the blood-streaked shreds of his wrist. He laid his cheek on the windshield, warm from the engine beneath, and laid his eyes to rest one last time.