An early-model Nissan sped down the dark road. It had just rained, and the ground glistened under the glaring streetlamps. Very few people were out tonight, on account of the weather. And it was cold. The car left a trail of white steam as it accelerated around a bend, tossing leaves in its wake. It was an old soft-top, with all the dents that 16 long years of beating will give you. Not abuse, no, they were simply the beatings of existence, and as far as cars go, this Nissan had lived a full life; it had been used, loved, slept in, lived in, sold, bought, and taken to the beach on many occasions, and now it was an old, wrinkly man with a loose chin. Its windows were foggy.
Inside this car (which was now hurdling through the business district, plenty of streetlamps flying by, but still no people), a man, the driver, turned to look at the woman sitting next to him. The move did not mesh well.
"Will ya watch the road, ya maniac!"
"Don't tell me how to drive my car!" The man shot back. Like there's even a soul on this God-forsaken road, he thought, but didn't say. He should, no, he must be civil, because if there was ever an occasion for it, the time was now.
Just minutes earlier, the confession had caught him off guard. No, it was not even a confession, really it was just the one word, but that one word had come like a gunshot in the dark, or bird poop to the head, it just shocked. That word, the man had thought, it was all just that one word, the whole world is that fucking word. Still, it shouldn't happen to someone so young, the entire situation was-but none of this made it past his lips.
The car was raging now, barreling through the empty city streets, running recklessly through red lights and stop signs alike; there was no one to see, and no one to catch them. The shrieking engine note filled the cabin, where the woman now sat with her arms folded, staring straight ahead. She was younger than she looked, and still young enough for this to be flattering. Her dark hair, which ended just below her shoulders, curved upwards at the tip; a graceful curve, the likes of which she had many, even though she had lost some weight in the past few weeks. Now she knew why.
She was ticked off. Angry even, but it felt good, better angry than afraid. It had been worse those few minutes ago (how long had it been? 10? 15?) before she had said that word, and her entire world had crushed down all around. It had been like that since the beginning, shortly after she had first heard her prognosis, sitting around all the beeping monitors in those thin hospital sheets. She had the fear from the start, fear of not being allowed back to school, not earning her degree, losing her job, the bills, the incessant hospital visits, and the long confinements at home in front of the TV. Her livelihood was her world, all of it besides this man sitting next to her. Now she hated them all. She turned to face him.
"You'll have to cover for me at work."
"No way."
"What?"
"No way, because you're coming back to do your job."
"I'm not coming back, the doctors alread-"
"Then they'll hire someone new!" The man regretted the words as soon he uttered them. There is only a short space that separates two people in a car, and now he felt the venom between them. "Sorry," he muttered.
His partner sighed. "Look, don't apologize, alright? I hate it when you apologize, you do it so goddamn much. And slow down, will ya?" The man, almost on cue, pressed the gas harder. They had left the city now, and the roads were getting worse. It was dark. Every now and then the car would hit another pothole, bounce off its wheel, fly a couple feet, then drop with a sickening crash that shuddered the steel, creaking chassis, and it felt like the car might at any minute shred apart around its passengers.
"If you don't come back, you'll just disappear." The man sounded like he was pleading now.
"I never disappear, Mike." Thud. Lurch. Crash. "How do you think I got here? I know how to make people watch me."
The man looked over at her. This was Iris for you. Push her a little bit, make fun of her hair or find her on a bad day at work, and she could out-whine a formula one car. Have too many drinks with her on any given night, and she will for sure call in sick the next morning, and leave you to pick up her slack. But push her hard enough, threaten her, put her in danger, and you find she either doesn't get scared or doesn't show it, she just glows. Like some radiant siren song supernova saturated lightening hit her all over her face after she had had a couple of drinks and was glowing anyway, and then she would become crazy valkyrie minotaur woman. She could carry a fucking sickle, the man thought. Thud. lurch. Crash.
Iris was indeed glowing now, and she could feel the eyes on her, just one pair now, but there would be more. Oh, there would be more. "The whole world's gonna watch me, Mike." Her voice raised a little higher than normal. "They're either gonna watch me live or watch me die, but they're gonna watch me." Transformation complete. Minotaur woman lowered herself back into her seat, then closed her eyes for a while.
There would have been a full moon that night, where it not for the clouds. At this moment, though, part of it peeked out and illuminated a single red car, still shining from the rain, speeding along an empty highway. Of its two passengers, neither one knew the entire route, but the trip was over before they knew it.
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