The sound didn’t stop, though. It shifted and latched onto something beside me. I watched from the window, my shadowy hands trembling, as the Subaru Impreza next to me jerked forward, her body resisting for a fraction of a second before giving in, her corpse hauled up onto the flatbed by unfeeling chains.
There was no ceremony to it. No pause. No acknowledgment of what she had been before she ended up here, dented and silent. The scrap dealer–Sam, I assume– gave her a cursory glance, as if confirming she was, in fact,still dead, then handed over a receipt to the lot watchman like this was nothing more than paperwork.
She was hauled onto the truck without care, without dignity. Yes, she was gone. But she still deserved more than this. Humans treated their dead with reverence. They polished them, dressed them, carried them in long black hearses. They made a show of remembering.
She got none of that.
Just chains. Hooks. A shrug.
She was just scrap.
I watched them take her. I felt guilty when my tense frame relaxed. I still had time, and if the Challenger behind me was right—if you weren’t coming today—then I had to believe there was a reason, that something had gone wrong because you wouldn’t leave me here.
You wouldn’t.
If you weren’t coming, it was because you couldn’t. Which meant you were trapped.
And if you couldn’t rescue me…
“I’ll have to rescue you,” I murmured, the idea settling into place.
I climbed onto my roof, watching the tow-truck squeeze through the large iron gate. It closed automatically behind her, no doubt controlled by the guard inside the small booth. That same booth was where my keys were stashed, too; I could feel them from here, like a phantom limb.
I had the ingredients to mount a rescue of my own: enough anger, a pinch of despair, and a whole lot of determination. What I didn’t have was a way to act on any of it.
I went over my options. I could try to hotwire myself, maybe. Or drop into neutral and try to roll out.
Probably wouldn’t get far, not without help. I was still just a car.
You saw me as more. I felt like more. But the truthremained that I couldn’t drive myself out of this lot, not without my keys.
“You are going to drain your battery.”
The Dodge Challenger’s voice came from behind me. I turned to look at him. I wanted to be angry at him; I wanted to look down at him for giving up so easily, but I couldn’t blame him. Not really.
He and I both knew that he wasn’t going to be hauled to the scrapyard; no, not him. He was one of those cars that every enthusiast dreams of. Damaged, yes, but not completely written off, and still a desirable body. It was only a matter of time before he went to auction. Someone would love him again.
But his first and only love had still abandoned him.
I watched his body gleam in the glow of the street light. Original lights and mirrors. He was stock, through and through. I smelled rust and heard the weakness in his suspension when the wind shifted just right. Time had touched him, but not ruined him.
“You’ll drain your battery too,” I warned him, quieter now, sitting cross-legged on my roof.
“That’s the hope,” he agreed.
I couldn’t understand what he meant. “Why would you want that?” I asked.
He was quiet for a moment before answering.
“Because I don’t want to be touched again. Not by anyone.” His voice softened, losing some of that earlier detachment. “ You know, my owner used to take his son hunting. He once told him geese mate for life.” He paused. “I thought it was honorable. I thought that was us, too. He and I, mates for life.”
If my lights could roll under my hood, they would have. “So what?” I shot back. “All those miles were for nothing? I’ve had four owners. Four. And I’m still here. You’ll meet the right one again.”
For a second, it felt like he perked up, glancing up at me as if wanting to believe me.
“It’s a nice thought, but we all know how much work it will take to get me legal. I doubt I’ll ever be roadworthy again. The best I can hope for is being part of a collection, going to car shows.” He sighed. “I’ll never drive another family across the country.”
“Well,” I said, forcing a lighter tone. “Not with gas prices the way they are.”
