LJ Idol, Season 9, Week 31: The Future Outwits All our Certitudes
She'd just assumed her best friend since high school would be her best friend forever, not a textbook Just-Give-Me-a-Chance, I've-Wanted-More-Since-the-Day-We-Met, I've-Always-Been-There-for-You-Unlike-Your-Jerk-Boyfriends Nice Guy.
She'd just assumed she'd be dating her Recently-Revealed-To-Be-One-of-Those-Jerks Boyfriend for more than seventeen months.
She'd just assumed she'd be driving this Brand-New, Cozy-and-Efficient-as-Hell Hybrid for at least a few years.
She'd just assumed she wouldn't be wrong about all these things on the same day.
But you know what they say about people who assume.
"Focus, Rafaela," she whispered to herself. She wondered if these drifting thoughts were a symptom of her inherently flighty nature or the product of a concussion. "Does it matter?" she groaned.
Her face rested on the steering wheel, which seemed comfortable enough. It was nowhere near as soft and fluffy as the deflating airbag that deposited her here, but it would do for a nap.
"No!" she ordered herself. "Do you want to slip into a coma?"
To be honest, a long, inescapable nap sounded pretty appealing after this shit day.
But Rafaela had things to do. First up, she swiveled her head back and forth--so far so good. Next she flexed her arms and legs, and fingers and toes--all fully operational. She pinched her nose--intact--and ran her tongue over her teeth--thirty-two present and accounted for. Finally she scanned the remains of the vehicle's interior for her cell phone--no sign. Of course not. It was likely sucked into the black hole that dwelled under all car seats.
She should have known something was up with that hitchhiker. This she couldn't blame on a head injury--it was just damned careless. It was the twenty-first century; who outside of movies and TV even hitchhikes anymore? Besides, Rafaela was a witch with a history of vanquishing ghosts.
But how could she just drive past her? The side of the highway in the pouring rain was no place for a pretty, petite young woman without an umbrella or even a jacket. And she was so cute and nice and weird. She was Rafaela's kind of person. And all she wanted was a ride to Spokane. That and vehicular homicide.
"Sucker," Rafaela scolded herself as she groped for the door handle. "Well, you walked yourself into this. All you can do is fix it."
She unfolded her way out of the car and stood up, wobbling for a bit before bracing herself against the tree that had initiated non-consensual intimacy with her once-adorable hybrid. The front end of it was crumpled like paper plates and aluminum foil and distributed jagged pieces of itself everywhere illuminated by the still-functioning headlights.
Back before it was a shapeless mass of plastic and metal, it had a quirky name, because people like her liked to name inanimate objects. "Oh, Ginger," she sniffed. "I'm so sorry. You saved my life. And also a bundle on gas. I'll never be able to repay you for that. Requiescant in pace, darling."
Luckily there was a road nearby--she would know, because she'd just driven off of it at highway speed--so she staggered uphill, dragging the most intact piece of Ginger she could heft, which was its bumper. Every step she took toward the highway became steadier and steadier, until one could be forgiven for mistaking this for a normal, run-of-the-mill hike. In a thunderstorm. In the middle of the night. While hauling a large, shattered auto part. And bleeding from the forehead.
Upon her arrival on the shoulder, she squinted in the direction from which she'd driven. Sure enough, that cute young woman waited, her spectral thumb beckoning lonely, helpful travelers. She headed in her direction.
In public school, Rafaela always had an affinity for biology, particularly for Linnaeus's elegant system of taxonomy, with its six organic kingdoms. Her parents, who tutored her in witchcraft on the weekends, taught her about the seventh kingdom. Therefore, if she remembered correctly, the thing she was stalking toward was kingdom apocrypha, phylum contra-firmus, class phasma phasmatis, order promitto, family diversus, genus perigrinus, species secutor.
Like the house cat, aka felis domesticus, the killer hitchhiker, aka perigrinus secutor, came in several breeds. There was the Distracter, the Disrupter, the Attacker, and this lovely lady, the Illusionist. This is why Rafaela had driven so calmly into an embankment into the woods; she'd believed she was still on the road until a very sturdy tree informed her otherwise.
Rafaela didn't know at whom she was more pissed--the hitchhiker for trying to kill her, or herself for finding nothing weird about a girl in a matching vest and bell-bottoms, and a peasant blouse cinched by a beaded belt adorned with peace signs. "Hey, sister," the girl said. "I'm Lola."
"We've met," Rafaela reminded her.
"Groovy." Lola grinned a mellow grin. "Hey, is there any way you can give me a ride to Spokane?"
"Tried it," Rafaela replied. "Didn't work."
"Far out."
"Not even a little bit far out," Rafaela growled. "Barely even close in."
"Chill out, sister," Lola told her.
Rafaela shook her head.
"Look," Lola asked. "I could use a ride to Spokane. Do you have wheels somewhere?"
This was the moment Rafaela had been rehearsing since she first beheld the wreckage of Ginger. She heaved the bumper, which landed at Lola's feet. "These are my wheels."
"Man, are you high?" Lola laughed. "Can I have some?"
Oh, crap. Rafaela remembered the bag of weed she'd stashed in Ginger's glove compartment. She'd have to go back for it later. But first thing's first: "Lola," she breathed, "this is the part where I would reason with you. I'd try to convince you that you're actually dead, and that you've taken a lot of innocent people with you, but it's not your fault because that's just how Mother Supernature works."
"You really gotta start making some sense."
"And then I'd tell you that denial is part of the process. Eventually I will break through, and, more likely than not, you'll leave this world peacefully. If you choose not to, then I remove you myself." Rafaela concluded, "But I really loved that car! So I'm going to skip all the nice stuff."
"What are you saying, sister?"
"I'm saying, Mal Inocente, ouvir as minhas palavras e aceitar a liberdade que eu trazer."
Lola looked her in the eye. "I don't like the sound of that."
She stepped closer and pulled a vial of salt out of her jacket pocket. "You're not going to like this either: O além sussurra--"
Lola opened her mouth and honked.
That's when Rafaela noticed that, rather than standing on the side of the road, she was actually occupying the northbound lane of the highway with a pickup bearing down on her. Head injury or not, she had the presence of mind to sidestep it, suffering only a minor clip on her arm from its mirror. That was the hand that held the vial, though, which shattered on the asphalt. She rolled her eyes and sighed.
After dodging a sedan and a speeding SUV, she charged the ghost, only to slip down the embankment. "Son of a bitch!" she shouted after she was done tumbling.
Exhausted and really, really frustrated, she climbed out of the ditch again, this time on her hands and knees.
When the ghost noticed her on the ground, she said, "Hey, sister, I'm Lola. Any chance you can give me a ride to Spokane?"
With gritted teeth, Rafaela twirled a butterfly knife and stabbed her foot with its iron blade. She then wiped her forehead and flicked the blood and sweat onto Lola's form. "O além sussurra seu nome. Ligue para ele e ele será cradle-lo em seus braços!"
Subtly but quickly, Lola faded into transparency. "I'm not making it to Spokane, am I?"
"Would you just shut the fuck up and go to the light?" Rafaela whined. "Please?"
Lola did just that, leaving the muddied and bloodied Rafaela alone in the rain with the remains of her car. She struggled to her feet and waved it at the next car to come down the road, who probably stopped because what the hell is that raggedy person doing with that bumper?
When the driver opened her window, she asked, "Holy crap! Are you okay?"
"Sister," Rafaela replied, "today has been nothing but a drag."