Wraith Cars: Part IV
The cars accelerated right past Marco and flew off of the stage. The Koloss 3 impacted into several audience members, their bodies becoming a red mist that exploded like a ghastly firework.
The Squalo was drifting and fishtailing on the grass. It was chasing fleeing patrons, toying with them until it would accelerate and crush the flesh and bones beneath its low lying framework.
Marco looked on in disbelief. The cars were moving without any drivers, and they were targeting and killing everyone and anything that moved.
Gerhard Blumner, the head of Gunthrom-Voshagen, was in the fray trying to direct people to a safe area. The reality was that no place was safe, not anymore. Marco watched in horror as two supercars came at Gerhard from different angles.
The two cars collided head on, with Gerhard caught in the middle. His body was severed in two, his top half shot upwards as it was ejected from his crushed lower half. Marco felt his stomach turn, and he began to crawl off the stage.
Marco looked back and saw that the cars that had hit Gerhard had suffered no damage at all, as if they were immune to the impact.
"This is the work of evil..." Marco muttered as hands grabbed him and helped him off the stage.
The expo had become a whirlwind of death and terror. The Paradiso XV was spinning deadly circles, clipping anyone caught within its path. It had created a growing area of bodies, either dead or badly injured. People screamed and held up mangled limbs in hopes of salvation, but there was no one coming to help.
Marco had begun his retreat from the main stage of the expo, and rode the wave of panicked retreat that the fearful crowd had created.
Within the stampede, Marco felt his arm get grabbed and he was pulled from the herd. Marco's eyes followed the arm that had snagged him, all the way up to the pale face of Maggie Fazaralla.
"What’s happening?" She asked, with a quiver in her voice.
"It…it can only...be..." Marco said though heavy breathes.
"No. Don't you dare say his name. He was no one. A nobody. There is no way..." Maggie's rebuke fell silent as she looked back on the field of death. One car was at a standstill, and it was as if it was staring right at her.
It was the Predatore. Her own personal triumph, now stalking her like its namesake. The car lurched as the tires spun at a ferocious velocity.
Marco pulled at Maggie, and the two found themselves heading towards one of the luxury clubhouses, perhaps a haven from the destruction all around.
As they ran, the sound of the Predatore's engine became hauntingly louder. Marco ran faster than he ever had before, yanking Maggie as she progressively became deader weight.
Marco reached the door, and tried to turn the knobs of the large oak doors that lead into the clubhouse. Locked.
"Fuck!" Marco yelled. He backed up and tried to ram the door open, but all he felt was pain as the door rebuked his attempt.
"Oh God. This is...not right." Maggie said, as she stood looking back towards the now demonic roar of the Predatore. Marco turned as well, and had just seconds to react. He threw his body to the side, just out of the way of the incoming wraith.
Maggie did not move. She accepted death with a stoic regard. The Predatore's front end hit her with such impact that most of her torso evaporated from existence. The Predatore crashed through the clubhouse entrance, tearing a hole through the woodwork in a frenzy.
Marco heard the wreckage continue in the clubhouse, and sat up for just a moment. The Predatore then sped through the broken entrance once more, heading back to the killing fields in search of more blood.
Marco watched it drive off, and then he turned his attention to the ruins it had left in its wake. A gaping void outlined with splintered wood and shattered glass stood before him. The clubhouse was a pearl white color, but the wound it now bore had a crimson halo that colored its edges. Marco looked around at the horror, and then made the mistake of looking up. Impaled on a large splintering of wood was the head and shoulders of Maggie Fazaralla. Marco became ill, and his stomach emptied out on the ground.
He managed to compose himself. The sounds of the slaughter still echoed from all around, and he needed to get out of there. The clubhouse was a short distance from the VIP parking lots, this he knew. If he could make it there, he could try to get a car and get out. If those had not become possessed as well, at least.
Marco said a silent prayed for Maggie and left, feeling very vulnerable as he ran alone across the grassy fields of the race grounds.
The parking lot was just behind a small hill, and Marco was pushing himself with all he could to move as quickly as possible. When he reached the hill's peak, his heart sank.
The possessed cars had been wrecking all the cars in the parking lot. The regular cars were twisted, broken forms, while the wraith cars remained in pristine condition. Marco watched as two wraiths smashed into other cars like a demolition derby.
Out of nowhere, the two cars stopped. They remained still for a moment and then both left with tires squealing, driving off back towards the main stage area.
Marco watched them leave, and then headed down to the parking lot, in hopes some kind of car had survived. He knew cars well enough that he could hot wire one if need be, it just needed to be able to run.
The smell of burnt rubber and gasoline was thick around the lot. Every car looked to have been totaled, and Marco was losing all hope.
As he looked, Marco found that he had not been the only one to make it here.
The body of Eduardo DeRigossi was hanging out of a smashed car's driver window. Blood had cascaded down the wrecked car's door, and most of Eduardo's face was raked and slashed. Marco could only surmise that before Eduardo had been able to start the car, he must have been hit so hard from the side that his body was thrown into the door and window.
Marco could not stay to grieve, he kept looking.
"Hey! Marco!" A voice loudly whispered from behind Marco.
Marco spun so quickly that he fell backwards and he immediately started to scurry away from the noise in fear. Marco backed into the remains of a car, and when his racing heart began to settle he looked up.
Emilio Bosconi stood before him, his suit dirtied and torn.
"There is a car on the other side that doesn't look like it got hit. Can you get it started?" Emilio asked. He was young, and had gotten to his position by inheritance only. He knew nothing about how cars worked, only how well they sold. Emilio put out his hand and helped Marco up.
Marco and Emilio headed over to the other side of the lot and found a luxury sedan that did look in very good condition. Marco took a metal piece nearby and broke the driver’s side window. He crawled in carefully, and then Marco began to work at the hot wire. As he did, Emilio waited on the passenger side for Marco to unlock the doors.
The pair both went silent as they could hear the sound of loud engines approaching. Marco looked in the rear view and saw the two cars that had been in the lot prior were making a return. Marco's pace quickened.
Emilio began to scream and yanked at the door handle to no avail. Marco was working as fast as he could, but the car was not starting.
Emilio grabbed wreckage from the ground and tried to break the passenger window. His first attempt only cracked the glass a little, and Emilio recoiled in pain from the impact reverberating through his arm.
The two cars announced their arrival with the thunder of their possessed engines shaking the ground all around.
Marco hit the right wires and the engine started in the car. He sputtered out a laugh and reached for the door unlock button. Suddenly, the passenger window exploded inwards, March flinched reactively.
Emilio had broken the window, and went to jump in. As he became airborne, one of the cars drove right under him, catching him on the windshield. Marco watched in absolute terror as Emilio was now pressed onto the windshield, screaming and holding on for dear life.
Emilio had slid to the roof of the possessed car, his fingertips gripping the top of the windshield to hold him on. The car drifted a turn, almost throwing Emilio from the top, but his grip held.
Marco put his car in gear, but did not begin to drive it just yet, hoping the cars would get further away. The sedan he was in would be no match at speed or acceleration at what was around him now.
The car carrying Emilio then began a straight acceleration. Marco watched it as it went, and then saw that coming directly at it from the opposite direction was the other wraith.
Marco felt his foot slide to the gas pedal, a reaction to get away from what he was about to see.
The car carrying Emilio slammed on its brakes, launching Emilio head first from its roof. His body flew like a rocket and then hit the windshield of the other wraith with such force that the top half of Emilio became a bloody stain on the tinted glass.
As Emilio died, Marco dropped his foot on the gas.
He drove the car to its edge, going as fast as he could. He was near some of the back exits of the track, the ones used for bringing in cars and getting them to the garages. He was passing trailers and bungalows set up for the event, each one for specific manufacturers. The exit was almost within reach. He thought he was in the clear. The other two cars had not followed him. He was going to make it out.
Marco never saw the impact coming.
Slammed from the right side, Marco's car spun out. The air bags deployed, and Marco could tase blood, and his head was swimming a bit. Marco thrashed around, getting his seatbelt loose and getting out of the now wrecked car.
Marco's vision was blurred, but it became clear. A possessed car had hit him, and was now watching him with a sort of mechanical sadism.
It was the Tempesta.
Marco looked at it, and then threw his arms up in the air.
"I made you! You are my creation!" Marco shouted, his mind breaking.
The Tempesta revved its engine and lurched forward, making Marco fall back into reality, and he then turned and ran into a temporary bungalow, in hopes of hiding. Marco had already seen what the Predatore could do, but he had no where else to run.
It was coincidence, or perhaps fate, that Marco entered the Luganotti bungalow. He slammed the door open with all of his force, and as he went to seek the back exit, he was frozen in his tracks.
On a table, in the middle of the room, was a body. Laying in a clear plastic wrap, was the body of Antonio Augustino.
A maniacal laughter then filled the room. Marco covered his ears, but it did nothing. In fact, the laughter got louder.
"You are the devil!" Marco shouted at the corpse. The laughter was so loud Marco never heard the Tempesta break through the paper thin walls of the bungalow.
Marco felt an impact and his world rolled to black for a brief moment.
He came to with a heavy pressure on his chest. He tried to move but could not, and pain coursed through his whole body.
Marco saw that he was pinned on the chest by the rear tire of the Tempesta. His legs stuck out the back and his head was pointed toward the front of the car.
This should have crushed him, but the car was keeping its weight off him just enough to have him stuck there, but not to kill him.
Marco turned his head and saw laying next to him was the body of Antonio. Marco's lips began to tremble, and tears filled his eyes.
"I...I am...so..." Marco's last words were cut off.
The Tempesta's tires spun with insane rotation as the car's engine revved and performed a burnout on the chest of Marco Luganotti. His flesh was ripped from his chest and thrown out the backside of the car. Marco wailed and the car then gained enough traction on his shredded body to accelerate.
The force of the car and its tires crushed Marco's skull and threw the pieces behind it in a spray of gore.
The racetrack had become a slaughterhouse, and there were no survivors. The Tempest drove off into the night, leading the rest of the wraiths to the open road, exiting just before the sounds of sirens were able to be heard.
They now had nothing to hold them back.
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