2 comments/ 4888 views/ 1 favorites Detroit up in Smoke By: MSTarot Behind me there was the soft patter of bare feet on the wet stone floors by the pool. But I didn't notice them. It was too fleeting a sound, when compared to the music I had playing. I was adrift through gentle melody, afloat not just in water but on the sweet lyrics that floated into my ears like lilies on a pond of still water. Carried there by the very water I was in. A massage of harmonics voices, entwined with deep growling thunder from a bass guitar, which moved across my skin. I not only heard the music I felt it. Every word like fingers, touching in the most intimate of places. I shall live only in darkness, and I shall not cry for the light.I weep in the shadows, shadows of an endless night.I lay hidden for those killing me.Forever night, Killing Light!Hidden places, the darkest of places,In the darkness there you shall find me, living shadow that I be.Those hidden with me, lost in the night, shadowsCreature lost from the lightForever night, Killing Light!Far am I from the land of the sun.This lost land, terror to behold, scarred by night.Lost to light.Forever night, Killing Light!I'm lost in the forever, ever night.Forever night, Killing Light! High above me the star pattern programed into the ceiling projectors began to shift. On one side of the pool a glow began to spread up from the floor. The sounds of crickets and frogs, which had been all but hidden behind my music, began to fade with the stars. Chased away with the shadows. The music played on, the water still delivered it to me, but without the darkness it lost so much of its emotional impact. The acoustic power was fading when the light penetrated my eyelids. "Sorry to interrupt, but I wanted a morning swim." Turning around in the water, I was lifted up by ever increasing waves. The sound of surf on a beach began to push my music aside. Those waves lapped at the feet of a woman, the one that had spoken to me, as she was stepping into the pool about ten feet away from me. She was, to put it simply, gorgeous. What her skimpy two piece left to the imagination wasn't even worth imagining. I must admit to having to check for drool by the time she was up to her waist in the water. The waves hitting her belly button, and then retreating to show the bikini bottom plastered to her skin. "I hated to change your program, but I always try to take a swim at the beach, every morning about this time." That I was being apologized to by this goddess, who could have had me begging, on hands and knees, to change the program for her, was a surprise. It took me a moment to get my mouth to working to answer her. "Hey, that's okay. I was starting to get too sleepy to stay in the "Night at the Lake" program anyway." As I watched her, she swam out to where I was treading water. As she entered the five foot circle around me, I saw a startled look cross her face. "Oh, you have the heat really turned up over here." She backstroked to where the temperature was more to her liking. "Yeah, I set it to higher. A friend and I played Wii Tennis, down at the digital courts, after lunch. I was a little sore in the shoulders." Not taking my eyes off her, I swam out to where she was at. "I don't think I have ever seen you here before?" "No. I just moved in yesterday. I'm Bonny." "Eric, but most of my friends call me E.B. So you just moved in? Where from?" I asked. We bobbed in the tidal surf together, drifting back towards the beach. "If you don't mind my asking?" "Chicago." That was a shock. "Really? You know I don't think I have ever met anyone who was not a native of Detroit. I mean online sure, but not in real life. Why did you change cities?" I noticed a slight change in her expression then, a startled look that turned colder. "Way to go E.B," I thought to myself. "You haven't said twenty words to the girl and you've already pissed her off." Speaking quickly, I began to apologize as best as I could. "Look, I'm sorry. That was a bit rude of me, we just met. Let me make it up to you. I have two tickets to go ~Neurosliding~ this weekend. Would you accept one as an apology?" She smiled sweetly and nodded that she would accept the ticket. I mean who wouldn't take one when it's offered. They're damn hard to get! Well, she and I stayed at the pool talking about this and that for several hours. Sitting on the side letting out feet dangle in the tidal surf washing across them. She asked me about the music I had been listening to, and was amazed that it had been my own playing and singing. That led us to talking about music, which led to a suggestion we go to a local pub I know where they play good music. A Server-Float* could have brought us the drinks, we could have listened to the music here, but you know nothing beats the feel of a good pub. Not on a hot summer night. We took my car, the StarMaker2000* to the pub, since her own electric car was in the shop, being reassembled, following its transport from Chicago by bullet train. We stayed at the pub till nearly dawn, the conversations getting more and more personal as drinks and hours passed. I learned that she was an amateur poet, as yet unpublished, who was trying to make ends meet by waitressing. That was why she had moved from Chicago, she finally told me. The market for poetry had died there long before she ever got started trying to write them. The sun was coming up outside as I drove her home to our apartment complex. Under the SolarDome* of course it could have been any hour. Plus as deep within the multi-tiered maze of concrete ramps, that is modern Detroit, we could not have seen much of the sun, even without the Dome absorbing all its lethal energy, if we had wanted to. Not that we would have wanted to. I mean who would want to see that thing anyway? I never have, not once, in my twenty years here in the city of my birth, ever seen the Sun. I got a kiss at the door, a promise that she would be waiting for me at ten on Saturday, for our ~Neurosliding~ trip. ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** The chronometer on my wall Vidde showed it to be well into the morning when I stumbled inside my apartment, more drunk than sober. I ignored it when it came on, with its endless "free" ten-hour-long commercials, and pay-per-second family dramas. I was in no mood for that kind of entertainment. Slipping a battered recorder-drive into the wall unit, I headed for the shower. My music appeared, loud and proud. I had a powerful need to chase the grudges away and of course to get off. There was simply no way I could possibly sleep in the state Bonny's kiss had left me in. And I had to get some sleep; I already knew that work was going to be a bitch with me staying up so early. Surrounded by my music, with high power jets of hot water spraying me with a skin-stinging mist, I picked the Satisfier* off its hook and slid my cock into it. It slurped me in and began that patented massage ripple, that was its trade mark, as I leaned back to let it work its magic. The whole time it worked my cock I kept thinking of Bonny and her beautiful face, those sexy lips. Lips that would feel so incredible if they were doing this to me. Making me feel this way. Several minute later--perfectly timed to happen as the shower ended--the Satisfier* used its suction feature to pull the orgasm from my body with its normal shattering force. I cried out Bonny's name as it took my spent semen and processed it for use in the fertility clinics. The small wall screen showed me that a sum of 10 Euro had been accredited to my bank account, and of course the normal "Thank you for your donation, please accept our gratuity as our special thanks." When the air blowers were done drying me, I stumbled into my bedroom and fell to the SenseYouFoam* mattress. I enjoyed the pleasant wiggles it made against my bare cock as it formed itself to fit my, prerecorded, body pattern. I was asleep in seconds, lulled there by the music I had forgotten and left playing. I shall live only in darkness, and I shall not cry for the light. ** ** ** ** ** ** ** My alarm woke me just before six. If the haze I saw when I opened my bloodshot eyes can truly be called being awake. Three stems went down my throat before my feet even hit the floor. Wiping crusted sleep from my eyes, I lurched my way into my kitchenette, stopping to lean half-awake on the doorframe. "Coffee. Standard. Extra caffeine." ~"You have exceeded your caffeine intake for the month. Preparing coffee."~ "Fuck off, you miserable coffee maker. Just perk already." Stumbling over to the sink, I ran two palms full of cold water and slapped in into my face in a vain attempt to help wake up. Finding a towel, with water in my eyes, was a major adventure that took me only four tires to get it right. The water didn't help me wake up. Not really. I opened the cooler unit. "Food ... huh, not much choice this morning there, E.B." I looked up at the pickup mic in the kitchen ceiling. "Computer. Reminder! Grocery shop." ~"You have four of those recorded already. Message incoming,"~ stated the house system, in far too loud and happy a tone. "Receive," I managed to mumble around a mouth full of cold french-fries. Breakfast of champions as usual. The hologram shimmered into appearance before me, the man in it like some mutated descendant of dark Lucifer himself. My Boss! I could tell before he even spoke that he was pissed at me, but then that's as common a thing as these cold french-fries. "Eric! Did you conveniently forget the fact we had an early morning planned for today. I have a studio full of people and no E.B. here to pluck his guitar. Now where the hell are you!" The jackass just called my home number and wants to know where I'm at? And he's in one of his screaming moods too. I can always sort of tell when it one of those ... the way that vein pops out on his forehead. That and the volume of his screams. "I'm sorry Chase, I was ..." "Never Mind! I have had it with your excuses. You can pick up your crap you've left here whenever you can manage to drag your lazy ass here to the office. Don't wait too long or it will be on the curb!" The hologram disappeared with a snap. The coffee maker chimed making me chuckle, since I was already awake. I poured a cup and wandered into the main room. "Computer. Current paper; classified section; topic-employment." As I sipped my coffee the wall size screen switched from the continuous montage of commercials to the newspaper. (Although an ad for Vivateen* continued to play in one corner)Scrolling through the sections, with waves of my hand, I looked for openings in either of my professions. It was no surprise that there was no listings for non-digital music editor/critics, but just how few offers for musicians there were was a surprise. Well not really, the market for live music had been falling off for years. Oh, look Note Masters has an opening! Too bad they won't hire me, since they just fired me. Nothing else seemed to hold any appeal, but I marked a few to give a call too and a couple to send my resume to. When I shut this down I nearly got trapped into a seven hour long Hovround* floating chair commercial. Those things look cool. Turning my head to keep following the video, I walked back into the kitchen, poured the dregs of the coffee into the sink and got a soda from the fridge. Dropping back into my recliner, I kicked back and popped open my drink, with some small loss due to shaking. It was just going to be one of those days. Oh well, the floor probably wanted a drink anyway. Before I could get sucked back into the commercial I spoke. "Movie selection." ~"Topic please?"~ Thinking about what might be interesting to someone who had been awake for only a half-hour and already been fired didn't take long. "Anything to do with the murder of an employer." The computer gave me my selection, (but a small window in the bottom of the screen showed me that a notation had been made in my permanent work records.) Making a selection, I sat back with a yawn to watch. However I wasn't ten minutes into the movie before I was back asleep. The movie's credits were still playing scrolling past when an incoming call woke me two hours later. "Received!" I shouted to shut the continual "Message incoming" chime off. The hologram that appeared this time was much nicer to look at than the one before. An angel to the earlier demon. "Hey, Eric ... I mean E.B. Oh I'm sorry, I don't mean to interrupt anything." Puzzled about what she meant, I realized I was sitting here naked. Well, that might explain a bit of my boss's anger earlier. I mentally shrugged. I had been hoping Bonny would see me without clothes on anyway. "Hi, Bonny. How's the poetry business?" I asked sitting up. She blushed, then grimaced. "Never hath so much, been rejected by so many, so soon." "That bad, huh?" "Yeah," she let out a soft sigh. Her eyes dropped downwards for a moment then snapped back to my face. "I was calling to see if we could maybe move our date up to tonight? I have nothing to do and a fun night out with you is more appealing than sitting here counting rejection slips." "No reason why we couldn't. I tell you what, let me grab some clothes. I'll come over to get you, we can go eat, and then go for our slide. What you say?" "Oh, that sounds wonderful. I'll be waiting." She gave an appreciative smile. "See you soon, then." I hopped to my feet and went rushing off to see if I had clean clothes. "Bye," she said before I was out of sight. I backpedaled into camera view again. "And E.B., nice ass." "Thanks. Bye, Bonny." Switching off the receiver, I nearly danced into the bedroom. Tossing on the latest fashion--clothes made by a designer more skilled with a design program than with needle and thread--I tried to find my boots. Checking my look in the mirror, before I went out the door, I wasn't crazy about this crap, but hey it was the latest style, so what can you do? ** ** ** ** ** ** ** Those hidden with me, lost in the night, shadows Creature lost from the light My StarMaker2000* roared out the parking garage, of my section of the apartments, at better than 70kph. I danced the little roadster in a long, tight, turning drift, weaving it through the twisted streets of the Detroit Conurbation to Bonny's side of the complex. Hell, at one point I even managed to get the thing up to nearly 90kph. That was unheard of fast for one of these little sport coups, but then I had made a few modifications that were not ... strictly legal. With smoke drifting like sad ghosts off my tires, I took the last turn and slid into the parking deck of Bonny's side of our apartments. With my brakes barking like hunting hounds, I skidded into one of the guest parking spaces, and rang her apartment number. Then flipped on the news while I sat waiting for her to appear. The little screen that is normally my rearview camera began running banners of dire "doom and gloom" crap. While the news anchor, in her stylish clothes designed to show most of her breasts, continued her seductive reading of a VidPromter* (Detroit News 67*)... believers, that the ever increasing levels of ultraviolet radiation may one day over power the current levels of protection, held a protest rally last night. Technical engineers at Matherier labs scoffed at the notion. Their faith in their SolarDome* remains unshakable, however ... when asked for an on camera interview ... they declined. For security reasons ... ~wink~ ... I'm sure. Right, Michael?" "Exactly right, security at its tightest. If it was any tighter, Terry, their butts would whistle" I turned off that rehashed crap when I saw Bonny step from the elevator doors. The new anchor, toying with the top button on her blouse, was giving me a hard on anyway. I grinned watching Bonny and her equally incredible breasts bouncing as she hurried to the car. "Ready to go?" I asked when she opened the door. "Oh honey, I was born ready to ~Neuroslide~. She climbed in and the door closed behind her. Our ears popped as the cabin sealed itself tight. "Nice car, by the way. I meant to tell you last night, but we were so busy talking about other stuff." With a devil's grin on my face, I threw the shifter into reverse, hammer the pedal into the floor and spun us out the parking space. The StarMaker2000* purred when I dropped into low and left two trails of smoke behind me in twin wraith-like clouds. We were out the parking complex and tearing down the descending ramps at close to a 100Kph in moments. "Oh! You like to drive fast!" she squealed. "Most defiantly." I loved how she squirmed herself on the leather seats, her short skirt bunched up in the back so that she was bare assed. A glance showed me she was wearing nothing under that skirt. My grin was only starting to leave an hour later when I pulled into the parking deck of NeuroGlitter and tossed my keys to a fuckin' maniac of a valet. When he pulled away from us, too fast, I protested to his manager. You shouldn't abuse a care like that! The crisp shirt--with the attendant in it--showed us inside. Complimenting my clothes and Bonny's, as was his job, the whole way to the dressing rooms. Then left us with "complimentary" drinks and went to get our tickets validated and out sliding passes. By the time he returned with our suits, I had managed to sneak a few more kisses out of Bonny. I pulled the Sense-a-Dike* clothes on, hating as always the cold feel of it, like wet slime but dry to the touch. The Sliding chairs were lined in four great rows. I could see that there were dozens of people already in most of them, sliding in their own private fantasy hallucinations. After helping Bonny into hers the attendant guided me to mine. He could have just pointed; it was right next to hers. But then if he had done that he wouldn't have been "entitled" to a tip. The chair took the ticket, and with a dozen adjustments conformed itself to fit my body perfectly. Another feeling I didn't care for. Made me think of snakes or bugs crawling on me. Glancing back over at Bonny, I saw that her chair was doing the same to her, but she seem to be enjoying it. She had a look of lust in her eyes that made me envious of a piece of furniture for the first time in my life. "What subject would you like today, sir?" The computers Sytha-voice* asked me in a voice that was all purr and rolled Rs. "May I recommend the surfing at Banzai Pipeline? We're having a special on that this week." Always the advertising pitch, even when they have your money, they are still trying to sell you something. "No, thank you." Surfing at Hawaii? The whole place is under water for Shade sake. That slide must be a museum piece, brought back by some old fogies for others like them who miss the sun. The stupid geriatric idiots. What's so great about getting skin cancer in under two minutes flat? "Enter the data from the last Kilimanjaro 500. Winning car of course, thank you." Always pays to be polite to machinery about to be hooked to your brain. You never know what kind of sense of humor the programmer had. There was a silence for a second as the ~Neuroslide~ computer began to match my brain wave patterns with recorded patterns from the driver. Then I began to hear and feel a drumming roar of an unmufflered engine, high performance hydrogen without a doubt. That was also when my body began to sweat, feeling the raging heat of Africa at night, and my vision blurred. Then the moonlit dust and other cars began to appear, like a pack of ghostly wolves loping alongside me as we raced around the base of Kilimanjaro. Detroit up in Smoke "E.B!" my crew chief was screaming in my ear. The helmet speakers were crackling a bit. That bumping that Tony Fonteyn gave me earlier no doubt. "E.B. you're falling back, is there something wrong with the car?" "Naw, Casey! I'm just playing with these boys a little. Teasing them. Letting them have some hope I can snatch away. The car is fine." I could hear the anger when he came back on the mic. "Well, stop playing and win the damn race! It's fuckin' hot as hell and I want to go home already." "Awe, come on, Case. Don't blow a vein. This race was mine before I ever went to bed last night." My crew chief then began to say some words in German, that I didn't know but I simply assumed they were all cuss words directed at me. Deciding I might as well satisfy his need-to-see-me-lead I put the hammer down and screamed easily past the other. I was pushing the 170kph mark as I rounded the next high banking turn. I took the lead back from Jimmy Monteria and then worked on widening the gap between him and myself. My eyes now clear of cars I took a half-second to look up at the monstrous mountain we were circling. The top, crowned with millions of gallons of white paint to give it the look it lost a half-century ago, was just starting to turn pink. The end was in sight. When the sunlight hit the finish line banner, this race was over, and the only thing left for me to do was drive into the winner circle around on the shaded side. I tore down that back straightway like a cheetah racing a gazelle. On the small screen on my dash a white flag appeared. "One more lap to go, E.B!" said my crew chief laughing now. "It's all yours, you're way ahead. You can ease up a bit; save the motor for the next one if you can." "Got yah, Casey. Will do." The sunlight was beginning to make the mountain glow golden when I came around that last turn, with a banshee's wail rising from my motor. I was already gearing down when I was still sixty feet from the Finish Line. There was nothing even close that could take the win and, when I shot under that banner, I raised a hand in victory! Glancing into my rearview screen, I saw Tony Dancers face as he took second. He was so pissed to be behind me again. I zoomed in on his face, grinning. "E.B!" I looked up just in time to see a large ANC News drone land on the track, right in front of me! Screaming, I saw a ball of fire devour my whole world. ** ** ** ** ** ** ** Far am I from the land of the sun. This lost land, terror to behold, scarred by night I came out of the ~Neuroslide~ slowly. My breath was coming in panicked gasps; there was the sound of my heart like a drum in my ears, and my brow was dripping sweat down into my eyes. I was soaked in sweat and all around me were ghost-like voices calling for rescue crews. The sounds of flames and screaming haunting me as I sat up, shaking. "Looks like that was some program," said Bonny from next to me. Startled, I looked at her. She smiled a comforting smile and placed a hand on my arm. "Easy, E.B. You okay?" "Yeah, I guess. I should have checked the racing news before calling for that program. Oh, man what a ride though! To go out that way ... after winning? Damn! My fondest dream, almost." I let her guide me out the building to where the valet, a different one I saw, had my StarMaker2000* waiting for us. "You want to drive, Bonny? I'm not sure I'm up for it just yet." "You're sure you're okay? We could have the Doctor here check you out. That Slider might have been defective." "Na, I'm fine. Just a little shook up is all." Tossing her the key I opened the doors for us both with a voice command. "So, Bonny, got any plans for the rest of the night? It's still early, how about a tour of Detroit?" "Sure. How far are we from the edge of the dome? Could we go for a drive out under the stars?" Surprised, I checked my watch by habit, while I pondered why anyone would want to go do something like that. Stars? Humph. "Ah, if you want ... it's still hours till Midnight so we have plenty of time." At my direction, she drove us lower and lower down the ramps into the dark underbelly of Detroit. The old parts, made of resalvaged rubble from the even older city, held the smell of aged things around them. Despite the car's filtered air, it began to get into the air as we went deeper into the city. When the street signs turned from the normal gold to faded green I knew were had arrived at the bottom level. The Underlanes. We were stopped at a light, waiting for it to change, with us both looking around at the harsh glare of hundreds of lighted signs. Signs that advertised stuff far more bizarre than even the worst StarMaker2000* dealerships. Nude girls. and Live Nude girls, one which made me seriously question that first sign, were the most numerous types. In that unreal haze we drove through I saw things too, things I had never even imagined in my normal Highlanes life. This was the dark underside of life in Detroit. And I had never seen it my whole life, even though my own home was but a few miles from here. A grungy looking man came up and tapped the window, as we waited for the next light. "Hey, you want some cigs, man?" He showed me a pack. "Two fifty Euro a pack, or two grand a carton. Genuine Carolinian grown. What yah say?" I was about to tell him to get lost, when Bonny hit the button and rolled down the driver's window. "I'll take a pack." I was in utter shock! No one I knew smoked. No one! Hell, this was the very first cigs I had ever seen not on a warning public service announcement. When she handed him the money, (cash I saw. Who the fuck carries cash?), and rolled the window back up I felt like we had a live demon in the car. One that was going to leap out from that shiny, rectangular, foil pack and kill me at any second. I was too far gone to even ask her questions as she drove away. When the man and the light were far behind and the gate appeared I began to have serious thoughts of turning her in to the guards. I mean, yeah she was hot as hell and all and I liked her, but she had just bought a pack of cigs! Oh. My. Fuckin'. God! As we approached the check point she hid the pack of cigs under her skirt. Only the memory that she had nothing on under that skirt kept me distracted when the tall, blue uniform dressed City policeman squatted down and looked through the window. "Reason for leaving the city?" he asked. "Just a drive under the stars, officer," Bonny answered, with a smile. As if she didn't have a pack of illegal-as-sin-itself cigs tucked halfway into her pussy. The officer stood back up, disapproval plain on his face. He must have considered the whole idea of a drive under the stars to be insane. My own opinion at the moment, too. He tapped his wristwatch. "Okay, just remember you have to be back in at least an hour before sunrise. Exposure can kill you in moments ... outside." "Sure thing, officer. We'll remember." She was far too bubbly. This whole thing was getting her turned on! That my though when he looked away, to signal the outer doors to open, and she squirmed her ass. As we drove outside and the sky opened up to endless amounts of blackness I cringed in my seat. Then I had to close my eyes at the limitless horror or the empty night sky. And it got better on slowly. The further we drove out, into the sun-baked wastelands that surround the huge dome, the more I could see the devastation of the past. Abandoned building, some half torn down to provide building materials for the Underlanes, on either side of the roads. Their forgotten sides lit with blue-white moon light. It was possibly that moon light that finally got me to calm down and really take a look around. It covered so much of that blackness I felt a bit more secure. My hand shaking with nerves and fear I tried to turn on some music, but got the new station I had been listening to earlier. (Detroit News 67*) In racing news tonight, we are pleased to report the quick recovery of Nigel "Windstar" Ericson, following his near fatal wreck after winning the Kilimanjaro 500 yesterday. Although we have yet to receive a full report of his condition, we have gathered encouraging rumors from fan holding a candlelit vigil outside the hospital. Ericson's wife, famed fashion model Nola VaVancy, was heard to say ... "I'm glad we decided to do this," said Bonny next to me, bringing me back to the fact that we were still driving further and further away from Detroit. "Ah, yeah." I looked out the window and saw nothing but trees and the broken foundations of houses abandoned for a century. There was an eerie serenity to it all that suddenly brought out the musician's love of the bizarre in me. "Yeah ... me, too." As we rode, song lyrics began to come to me. Things I would have never thought of in my normal Highlanes apartment life. The dark buildings seemed like some fantasy world, some ~Neuroslide~ gone horribly wrong, maybe. In a way they were every bit as depressing to look at as a corpse in the street, but they were their own tombstones at the same time. How ... beautiful. I looked over at Bonny about to say something about that, but saw that she had an odd look on her face. "What is it?" "Your car is starting to lose power. I'm not slowing down, that's the car." Leaning over, I asked the question I could already see the answer to on the dashboard. "What does the tank read?" I asked, and then began to silently beg I had seen wrong. "About a quarter of a tank," she said, checking to make sure. "Damn it! I should have thought to check it before we left the gate." At her look I shook my head. "That gauge doesn't read right." "What! By how much?" Without a sound the engine too the last sip of water from its tank. The filter then split those last few molecules into their independent atoms, fed those hydrogen atom into the spark and gave us one last second of power. Then it was empty and we were coasting along. As the car rolled to a halt on the side of the road, I looked over at her. "By about a quarter of a tank." She laughed under her breath. "I kind of guessed that E.B." She placed the car in park and opened the door. The smell of the outside world rushed in with a thousand scents I had never known. "You know, running out of water on a deserted back road, is just so cliché." Opening my own door, I hesitantly got out under that endless sky. Looking around, all I could see was sun burnt trees and parched grass. "Is that a building?" she asked pointing off into the dark. "Maybe we could find some water there." Looking in the direction she was pointing, I could just make out a large shadow. It was set off back among the twisted remains of dozens of trees and outbuildings. "Well, let's go see." Taking her hand, I headed for the shadowy building, but the closer we got and the more of it that appeared the less hope I had that we might find water clean enough for the car to run on. It was a brick building of some kind, with smaller more demolished buildings around it. The windows were boarded up. The doors hung half off their hinges with litter covering the entrance way. Not that it mattered; there was a hole in the side big enough to drive a bullet train through. Sticking my head inside, I saw nothing, since it was of course pitch black inside. Turning to Bonny I said the obvious. "I don't think we are going to find clean water in here." I looked up at the sky, the huge empty sky with its tiny points of light. Miniature, only by distance, versions of that massive fireball that was a few hours away. "But ... it might offer us some shelter, protection from the sun." Her only answer was to tighten her hand in mine. Moving forwards into the big building, we stumbled in the dark for a second, our hands outstretched before us to try and feel anything before we hit it. The floor was cover with rubble and trash that our feet kicked or tripped over. We were getting adjusted to the darkness by the time we found something large in the middle of the room. A cloth covered something large. I saw her shadowy silhouetted body moving her hand over it. There was a rustle of cloth "What is this?" "Don't know. It's too dark to see. Whatever it is, it's covered in a big tarp. We'll take a look tomorrow. Come on. Let's see if we can find some place to sit down for a bit." I tightened my grip on her hand. "With all these windows and doors we can see it then, but we have got to find a place to hide from the sun." "How bad will it get? Are we going to die because I wanted to take a drive under the stars?" She gave a small whimper. I pulled her into my chest and held her as her growing fear began to get the better of her. Not that I was too far from tears myself. Growing up your whole childhood hearing how the sun can be lethal to you in "moments" but that it takes you agonizing days to die. Memories of school pictures of skin cancers, the horrors of it eating away at flesh, did nothing to help my nerves either. We found what appeared to be a small office. It had what felt like a desk, and then we found a long couch. It was old, it smelled, but it was comfortable and as the night wore on and we talked our fears away that comfort wore on us both. Till we lay down and drifted to sleep in each other's arms. ** ** ** ** ** ** ** Lost to light. Forever night, Killing Light! The sunlight woke me. Those first harsh, red, burning rays spilling into the broken remains of this building. I saw that we were in a warehouse of some kind. Getting up, I left Bonny asleep on the old couch. She had been turned towards the back and the light was not on her face yet. It took my eyes forever to adjust as the light grew and grew in brightness. It was far brighter than anything I had ever seen. Painfully bright, when I stumbled over trash and neared the big tarp covered object in the middle of the room. Knowing that I needed to be searching for water I, none the less, let my curiosity pulled me to that tarp off the ... "thing." ... sitting there so perfectly. Rolling back the corner slowly, to keep down the dust, I began to shake as I uncovered a demon! "Oh, my god!" I said in breathy astonishment. "Oh, my total fuckin' God." The black shadow given form that sat before me, now half uncovered, was not from this century. Not even from last century. It was from the one before that, hell the millennium before this one. But oh, this was no rusted antique. No, no, no. This was a monster of black metal, glass, and rubber. And, from the looks of it, one that had been well taken care of. As I pulled the canvas cover further and further back I began to drool. On the side, just behind the front tire there were two SS letters. Then I uncovered the rear of the car. Chevelle I said the word silently to myself, my mouth forming out the letters. Walking around it, I took it all in. This long forgotten beast of old. Sitting, like the metal-armored destrier of a Black Knight from some barbaric century, it looked more than ready for battle. Like it was chomping at the bit to go fight. I ran a hand over the hood. The dust on it barely enough for my fingers to leave a trail. "You've not been here long," I said to myself. I turned to the small office we had slept in. "Hey Bonny! Come take a look at this!" "E.B?" "Come here!" She appeared slowly, rubbing sleep from her eyes. Those pretty eyes went wide when she saw the antique car. "What is that?" "The name plate on the back says it's something called a Chevelle. Don't know. This thing has to be hundreds of years old." I walked around to what I figured was the drive's side. I had a wheel in front of the seat after all. "Why is it flat black like that? All the cars I've ever seen are really bright, like your StarMaker2000* and my Friesian450*right? Never seen a black car. Don't know if I like it, kind of morbid to paint one that color." That was a good question and my mind struggled for a moment to find an answer, till I remember those cigs she had bought last night before we got to the gate. "This is a cigs runner! Oh, my god this this is for smuggling." With the smile a kid with a new toy would have, I began to look the car over with even more interest, if that was possible. "I bet it used to be a drug runner too." "What?" "Come on, Bonny, you remember. They taught about it in history class back in school. Before they legalized all drugs people would try to get them illegally. Like those cigs you bought last night, people could be arrested for having them. I bet this thing ran drugs and now it's being used to run cigs. Oh, this is so cool!" "So it will run?" Her question was innocent but it struck me hard. "Why shouldn't it run?" the question passed through my head even as I found how the handle worked to open the door. I looked at her and smiled. "Let's find out shall we?" "What if whoever owns it shows up?" She asked clearly scared. "Those bad guys that run the cigs ... some of them are not nice." "It's daylight outside, remember?" I pointed to the holes letting light stream in. "They can't be outside any more than we can. Come on." The upholstery was almost my downfall. I recognized it as real leather, not Synthe-Leather* and nearly puked at the idea of sitting on some pour animal's skin. But, I was far too hyped up, to try and get this thing to cranked, to let that stop me for long. I hated the way it crinkled under me as I slid in behind the wheel. Looking at the dashboard, I was suddenly completely unsure of this whole idea. While compared to my StarMaker2000* this was childishly simple, none of the gages made any sense. There was no Kph gauge for one thing. I thought I found it, but I was wrong. What the hell is MPH anyway? And where the fuck is the ... oh there's the water level gauge, okay this isn't so bad. I looked for an ignition and found a pair of odd metal ... "things" ... on a ring, hanging from a metal disk set in the dash. Maybe a key? Then I looked down and saw three peddles and my whole world collapsed. Just as it had in the ~Neuroslide~ chair when the race car wrecked, I felt exactly like that. "Three? What the fuck is there a third pedal for?" I muttered under my breath. "What? Can you get it to crank, or not?" asked Bonny. She had opened the door and slid in, clearly not noticing what I had about the seats. "I think I might can. Don't know. This thing is a museum piece, not a car." I turned the metal ... "key" ... to see if I was at least right about that much. Three pedals later, let's see if the damn thing will even crank first. Wreeer.... Wrerrrrerrrrr.... Wrerrreeerr ... rroom! Groom ... groom! It was like some dinosaur had come to life under me as this dark, soulless demon awoke and then left out a roar that shook dust off the rafters from above us. Next to me, Bonny gave a half frightened squeal. Then another one as I pushed the pedal to the floor and the whole car shook and roared like a crazed thing, unchained. ** ** ** ** ** ** ** Bonny and I cleared debris from in front of the car. Moving small things easily, but some of them took us both. A task that often brought my face very close to hers. This led to several very nice kisses. The day passed outside, with us avoiding the light and me trying to figure out the Chevelle. It was a monster but I learned its ways through that long day. Enough so, that when the sun was sinking, I decided to try and drive this untamable horse. When I cranked it, and tried to move the shifter into drive the thing made the most god-awful noise. A terrible grinding. It was Bonny that noticed that the third pedal, that odd one I had decided to avoid, had moved. I pushed it to the floor and tried to shift again. It did it without that terrible noise and I smiled having figured that one out. Detroit up in Smoke Till the car died the moment I moved my foot. Over and over I tried it; over and over I cranked it; and over and over it died. I was about to give up when I did something right and the car shot out the open door way in front of it so fast it scared the hell out of both of us! Screaming, I slammed on the middle pedal hoping to Shade it was the brake and, when it was, I hit the steering wheel and she hit the dashboard. Bonny looked over at me, rubbing her forehead. "Whatever the hell you just did, don't ever do it again." We both laughed. And then of course I did the exact thing again. And again. By the time I figured it out the sun was set and the darkness required a light. Luckily I had found the cars lights by trying everything earlier during the day. By midnight ... I had it. I figured it out and we were driving around in this ancient piece of history. Laughing like a pair of fools, till I decided to get adventuresome and see what it would do. I had figured out that the Mph gauge was the same as a Kph gauge so I saw a number I was comfortable driving at, I mean I loved to get my StarMaker2000* but to a 100 kph, and hell this thing handled better than my car did ... so why not? I can handle it. That would be the second big scare of the night that the car gave us. I punched it, the engine roared and we were driven back into our seats by an enormous force. That Mph dial spun around past 60 Mph in seconds, then rocket to 100 Mph before I could stop panicking, find the brake again, and slow us back down. It's not a Kph gauge. Not even close. The dawn was two hours off when we pulled the black car back into its den. Using the headlights, we gathered up the two jugs of clean water we had scavenged earlier and recovered the Chevelle. with its tarp. I did my best to hide that we had been there and we left it. The motor was popping and that heat grumbled made it sound like there a beast under that tarp. When we got back to the StarMaker2000* Bonny remembered her cigs, that were sitting plain-as-day on the driver's seat. She picked them up and tossed them off into the weeds by my feet. "What did you do that for?" I asked as surprised as I had been when she bought them. I leaned down a picked them up. Too many years of anti-litter programing made me do it. "Oh, I don't smoke. I just bought them because doing illegal things makes me horny as hell." She grinned at me. "I was planning to take you off out here, into the big unknown and fuck you under the stars ... but then we ran out of water." I nodded. "Well, how about now?" I looked up. "There are still a few stars." "E.B, I'm grungy as hell; I want a shower, some food, and a nice long nap. Then we can talk about wild sex." I accepted that, knowing that I was myself really too tried for my best performance. And by this time, I really wanted Bonny in so bad a way, but I always wanted it to be one of those once in a million nights of sex. Not just sex. On the drive back to Detroit, with me at the wheel, my mind raced through a thousand thoughts. The black car. The cigs and what she had paid for them. Sex. The black car ... okay, it was really only four thoughts, but they were on repeat a thousand times. At least. Especially the sex part. Memories of that guy saying a carton of his cigs was two thousand Euro. I was still chewing over such thoughts when I dropped Bonny off on her side of the apartments. With a very nice kiss, and a grope of her breast and her of my crotch, I left and drove back to my side. I was driving slowly, carefully. When I noticed this I realized why. The StarMaker2000* was simply not as much fun to drive as the Chevelle had been. I pulled it into my parking space and shut it down. A smile touched my lips when I heard the music echoing through the early morning hours. Tones of pure magic. Sitting in his customary spot beside the elevator was the old building maintenance guy, Johnny Vasero, or John V as most people on this side of the building called him. He had his guitar out, the flat black metal instantly reminding me of the old car, and was doing his normal "playing for spare change" hobby. The man made good money, least that was the rumor, but he loved to do this for some reason. As I walked up, I listened to the music--stuff that I myself had tried to copy with my own sound from time to time with no luck-- astonished by it yet again. His was playing was dark, powerful, and smoky. Even though I was currently jobless, I keyed my card and "tossed" him a few "bills" to his card laying in the battered guitar case. He gave me a nod and continued to play his smoky blues music, as he called it. Smoky ... John V smelled of cigs smoke! It was a perfect match for what I had smelled when Bonny had rolled down her window to buy the cigs she threw away. My hand went into my pocket to feel that foil pack, even as I asked him without thinking "You smoke?" The old man stopped playing and looked up at me sharply. There was a hardness to his eyes I had never thought could be there. "Why you asking?" "I can smell it." "Yeah? Well, alright, yeah I smoke. What yah going to do about it there E.B? Turn me in? You going to turn me in?" I shook my head. "You should know me better than that, John V. If you like it, do it. Hell, enjoy anything, everything you can. Why not right? The suns going to kill all of us if the dome ever fails." He smiled, nodded, and went back to playing. I must have stood there for ten minutes listening to the sounds of his guitar as the elevator took its sorry time getting here. Seeing it was only forty-floors away, I was about to walk to the doors when I had a thought. "Hey John V, where do you buy them from?" I asked. "The cigs." The old man looked at me for a few second then shook his head. "I wouldn't recommend that you start E.B. It's not a good habit to have." "I wasn't looking to start; I was wondering what you got them from. Just curious as to sources. I know they are expensive." He scratched at his beard, debating whether to tell me. I could see that in his eyes.. Then he gave a little shrug. "Well--I had been buying them from a couple of boys that used to pass through Detroit here ever few months. That's over with now though. I heard they got killed on some back road down in Tennessee. Gunned down. The Man don't play when it comes to cigs." Behind me the elevator opened. "Well what are you going to do now?" He shook his head. "Try to quit, I guess. I sure can't afford to pay two hundred Euros a pack for them down in the Underlanes." The doors behind me began to close. I stuck my foot inside to make them open again. My fingers caressed the foil pack in my pocket. The idea had formed of trying to sell these things maybe get a little money back, to have some cash to take Bonny out to dinner or something. So just why I took them out and tossed them into his guitar case I'll never know. Maybe the look on his face before the doors closed. Surprised shock. And a gratitude that was incredible. All the way to my apartment I was lost in thought. Thoughts of black cars and cigs at two hundred a pack. Grateful musicians that can't afford that price and a woman that said she gets horny doing illegal things. There was an eviction notice on the door of my place. ** ** ** ** ** ** ** Forever night, Killing Light! I'm lost in the forever, ever night. (Detroit News 67*) ... and in other news, a mysterious black car has been sighted on the deserted highways of several nearby states in the past three weeks. The incredible speeds it has been rumored to achieve are of course ludicrous, but the fact remains that sightings of this "ghost car" have been on the increase. Suggestions of haunted highways, Michael? What do you make of it?" "Sounds like a load of crap to me, Terry. Nice blouse by the way, do they sell that in men's sizes?" "Ah ... I don't know for sure, Michael. Oh. I'm being told that yes, yes they do. Now in local headlines, an upswing in black-market activities has city police baffled." The Chevelle tore through the Kentucky hills like it was aflame. I took the turns, on those old half-rotten roads, at speeds my old StarMaker2000* could not dream of reaching. And as I drove those recklessly dangerous speeds, I moaned at the pleasure of the blonde head bobbing in my lap. True to her word Bonny was a woman who got wet at the drop of an illegal hat. These long midnight runs, to the Carolinas, to the hidden tobacco farms and cig plants up in those hills, were all it took to make her into a stone sex freak. I could almost be guaranteed an awesome blowjob, one that felt like it would last half the trip. And "Oh my god!" Let a police officer get behind us, in one of their silly "pursuit" specials. The moment I left them in the dust she would be begging me to have her bent over the front of the hot-as-hell hood, with my cock more often than not up her ass. She would claw her fingers across the flat black paint, and the harder I would pump the more she loved it. And when we got home to Detroit; when we sold our cigs to those new "good friends" of ours down in the Underlanes ... well, then it was back to our new, much bigger shared apartment. Sex in a hot shower together, then more sex on the bed ... if we made it that far. Then long wonderful days curled up together sleeping like babies. "I had never enjoyed life this much," I thought, as I shot thick ropes of cum into her sweet mouth for the second time tonight. Even as I was coming I knew she was just getting started. Before this night was over I would have her at least once in the hole of my choice. She snuggled her head into my bare thigh and said in a sleepy voice. "I love you, E.B." I petted her blonde hair. "Love you too, Bonny." As I felt her fall asleep, her ear resting on my leg, her hair enwrapping my cock, I thought about those words I had just said. Did I love her? Really? I mean, yeah sure, I loved to be with her. Loved the things she liked to do to me, certainly. But those were some pretty basic human needs. Companionship and sex. Alright, awesome sex. Still ... love? I let that though and others keep me company as I drove through the night. (Detroit News 67*)...reports of ghostly black cars got more evidence today as the guards at gate seventeen reported a terrifying sight. A car, some weird pieced-together ... "thing" ... from the wastelands no doubt, tore through the gates of West Detroit, just before they were closed for the dawn. Even though they were in fear for their very souls from the hunted car, the officers bravely exchanged fire with a passenger. Reports said she was a demon like fiend with glowing eyes and her head on fire with golden flames. Golden flames? Glowing eyes? What do you think, Michael? "Hell of a fashion statement there, Terry..." ** ** ** ** ** ** ** Forever night, Killing Light! The money was good. But for some reason the money didn't seem to last, not like regular money did. This money was like a hooker's morals, didn't seem to last long enough. Not that the money really meant anything to me. It was all about the speed now. Nothing else matter to me. The speed. I was spending most of my time in Detroit at the ~Neuroslide~ enough so that Bonny was worried about me frying my brain. But I was learning, not playing. I could already outdrive most of the pro racers out there. But then I wasn't racing for prize money. More and more we were in the news and more and more there were police falling in behind us to try and chase us down. A couple had come close to getting us. Oh, not because they could catch me, nothing on the roads could catch the Chevelle certainly not when I was behind the wheel. It was the need this monster had for fuel. I bought my supply at the plants where we got the cigs. But that wasn't ever enough to feed its appetite. I was eternally grateful that someone in the past had converted the Chevelle to bio-diesel. If I had been required to find the gasoline it originally ran on I would have been sunk. As is there were small time places, little cities, small towns that had been left to scorch in the sun because the world didn't care about them. In those I could find people willing to supply us. They knew us, hell loved us. Followed us on the news at night like we were rock gods. We were the "talk of the times" they said. Bonny worried about us at times too. So did I. At times. We were living hard and fast, score to score. Night to blackest night. And the roads had become all the same in the months since that first night outside. "E.B?" "Yeah, darlin'?" "Where are we?" she asked, as she sat up and looked out the windows at the darkness beyond our headlights. "About to Lexington. We need to stop for the day, and get some fuel from Darby's place." "Want me to drive for a while?" she asked. "I'm not sleepy." I reached over and patted her leg. "I'm good." I must not have been because I missed seeing the car coming up on us from behind, with its lights off. Hell, I didn't know it was there till its lights came on like twin blazing suns in the glassy rearview and side mirrors. Bonny jumped, startled and spun in the seat to look behind us. Her hand went to the gun she keeps beside her in the seat at all the time now. I saw the look in her eye that I love to see. The one that promises me, without a word being spoken, of one hell of a fuck fest to come. Just as soon as I lose this "dipshit cop" behind me. She squirmed her legs together and gave a soft moan. Then the two dozen lights in front of us sprang to life! I fishtailed the Chevelle a bit sideways and spun the wheel trying to turn around without stopping. I saw more lights coming on behind us then, far more than the one that had chased us into this. When I glanced over at her I saw twin tears running down Bonny's cheeks. "Hey! Hey, now love. Now you don't cry. They haven't caught us yet. I'll just ..." I was still planning what I was about to do, when that first bullet tore through the windshield. The one that hit my chest like a sledgehammer! Then there were more. And I could hear every single one as they tore little round holes through the black sheet metal of the old car and then into Bonny or me. She screamed once and then was silent My foot pushed the pedal down but I was not really aware I had done it. The Chevelle gave its last dyeing gasp even when my own life was fading. Flowing out from me, in dozens of places, onto the real leather upholstery to ruin it. The car shot across and plowed into the line of police cars, with huge shattering sprays of plastic and glass. The officers screamed and continued to fire. There was a blur in front of me. Then, I saw a ball of fire devour my whole world. ** ** ** ** ** ** ** The police captain knelt down and picked up the pack of cigs that lay beside the bullet riddled black car. As he stood back up he looked inside at the two young lovers. In death they had fallen over into each other, a macabre embrace into the afterlife ... if there was such a thing. "Stupid kids," he muttered, as he began to slap the back of cigs against his palm to pack the tobacco. Walking over to his car, he took a seat on the hood, opened the foil and paper pack. When he offed the officers near him a smoke, most took one with a smile. The ones that didn't already had one lit, or had a pocket full of cig packs themselves already. Tapping out one, he took it between his teeth, put the rest of the pack into his uniform pocket and pulled out the gold Zippo lighter, the one he received from the Mayor of Detroit after the last group of cig smugglers he had caught. The blue flame reflected in his mirrored sunglasses. Smoke rolled past the brim of his cap and he clicked the lighter shut. For a few more moments he watched his people clearing up the "Contraband" from the scene. By tomorrow night all these packs would be in the hand of the distributers and the ... Widows and Orphans fund ... would be already credited to all of these officer's accounts. As captain, his own share would be more than most police in Detroit made in a year. He blew a smoke ring at the oil leaking "Ghost" car. "Stupid kids." ** ** ** ** ** ** ** Forever night, Killing Light! (Detroit News 67*) "And in National news, last night, following a fierce gun battle, know cigs smuggler Eric C. Barro and his lover Miss Bonny Parker were brought to justice while trying to flee police. Rumors that they were in some kind of "supercar" are of course ridiculous. Mr. Barro's bullet riddled black StarMaker2000*,--the only vehicle registered in his name, people!-- was towed to the Cincinnati Conurbation. This automobile was reported, by highly credible sources, to have received more than two hundred rounds, in the exchange with law enforcement officers! Descriptions of it are, and I'll quote, "It was totally destroyed." and for the better I must say. Michael?" "The cargo of illegal cigs, while they were not recovered from among the wreckage, are believed to have been hidden by the criminals before their demise. Therefore they are most likely going to soon be found and destroyed. Back to you, Terry." "Thank you, Michael. And that is a lovely shirt, isn't that like the one I wore last week? Well, that's it from the back roads of Kentucky. This is Terry Morlan, with Detroit News 67* wishing you a very Goodnight.