On December 8th
Title: On December 8th
Author: annj_g80
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Horror-ish!
Disclaimer: Nothing and nobody is mine except for the hard work and the English grammar atrocities.
Word Count: ~ 1.500
Author’s Note and summary: Unbeta'd. I wrote this for the prompt On December 8, 1991 John Winchester kills his two sons in the backseat of the Impala. Their spirits never leave the car.
Check out the meme over at sharp_teeth . riama82 created an awesome art for this prompt, too.
At that time it had sounded like an awesome idea. The car had almost glowed in the sunlight. Its shining chrome almost hurting his eyes with the twinkling flashes of sunlight reflected on it. A real classic. They had agreed on a price that should have made Tom suspicious but it hadn't. All he had seen was the car, the '67 Chevy Impala with the well-groomed paint and the original seats that he hadn't seen in a car in years.
Tom had paid in cash. Then he had gotten into the car and had driven off, his foot never even leaving the gas. He couldn't wait to present it to his wife. Sure, she had expected him to just have a stroll and a look at the offers. When he had left the house on that particular Sunday morning he did not have any intention of actually buying a car. When he came home that afternoon he had no intention of ever letting go.
Lucie had almost fallen off the veranda when she had seen him turning onto the driveway, the engine running smoothly and the black surface sparkling, mirroring his own enthusiasm.
"It was a real bargain, honey!" He had grinned, unable to suppress his euphoria. "She's a beauty, isn't she?"
She had sighed but even before the breath had left her body she had come to terms with his new favourite toy. After all, she had known what she was getting into when they had married five years ago.
The warm August evening was now settling down over the residential neighborhood in the suburbs of Little Rock, AR. Darkness spreading with an almost imperceptible pace as if the daylight was fighting to stay where it was. One by one the street lanterns flickered to life, sending dirty yellow-ish light into the area. Some houses to his left a BBQ was going on. Tom could hear voices and smell the scent of meat on the grill.
Undisturbed. The epitome of a peaceful living.
He smiled, his own cheeriness strange even for him. The new car was resting comfortably in the drive-way which until now had merely been a place to play basketball. It just sat there, waiting patiently. Like a guest sitting shyly in a corner and waiting for someone to talk to him.
Leaving the half-empty cup on the railing Tom gave in his yearning, strolled over to his new acquisition and let his fingers sweep over the smooth roof, still warmed by the now long gone sun. It felt good, like it was enjoying his touch and Tom smiled. Lucie would tease him mercilessly if she saw him like that. He hadn't been that affectionately since their wedding night. But she would understand. She always did.
He rounded the car, once. Then opened the passenger door to slip inside the car. The seat under him was cool and the interior smelled mildly like bleach and... something else. Something he couldn't exactly pinpoint. A whiff of something bitter... or metallic. He had never smelled it before and he was pretty sure he had not smelled it when he had driven the car home. Leaning forward, he opened the glove box to find nothing but an empty bag of M&M's, the package crinkled and the colours fading. Probably lying there forever. Strange. Hadn't he looked inside it earlier today? He couldn't remember and the thought was quickly forgotten, his concentration back on the car. He turned around, glanced over the back rest into the compartment behind him where the smell grew stronger. Not the one of bleach but... something else.
Tom shook his head. The smell was penetrating, nasty. Maybe he should have taken a closer look before he had bought it. He so didn't want to find a decaying skunk under the seats.
Propping himself on the backrest he leaned over to take a closer look into the foot area of the backseats when a noise made him jump, his head crashing painfully against the roof. Cursing, he fell back on his butt and glared at the radio which had been switched on. Perhaps he had touched it with his feet when he had leaned over? Yes, that must've been it. Radio reception was almost non-existent but behind the whining static Tom could hear a melody and a voice, some rock song from the '70. Could have been Metallica or AC/DC. Something loud and noisy since Tom was more a Jazz-person anyway. Turning the volume control to the left didn't do anything but increase the static. Pity. He would have liked to keep the radio but it was obviously broken.
In the meantime, night had fallen completely. Time to get back inside and eat dinner. Lucie would have finished cooking by now and...
A cold breeze made him shudder. How could there be a cold breeze in a closed car? Making sure he had shut the door he fumbled along the door cracks to see where it was coming from when his fingers touched something warm and sticky. Tom froze, his heart beating so loud suddenly that he couldn't hear the static anymore. A feeling, like icy fingers, traveled along his spine, grabbed him so tight that he couldn't move. His breath stuck in his throat and it took him a few seconds to pull back his itching fingers. They were covered in black and Tom was pretty sure it was only the darkness of the night that hid the red tint. Sticky, smelling coppery and dirty. Blood. He had never seen so much blood in his life. Once he had cut into his finger and it had needed three stitches. He had been convinced he'd die of blood loss and Lucie had started laughing so hard that she had had an asthma attack. This way they both ended up in the hospital that day. A funny story, really.
But his fingers were completely covered now, the warm liquid trickling down his wrist and onto his trousers. Like a fountain with its center on his own hand. It bubbled and spluttered. The stench made him gag with revulsion. The blood crawled over his skin like a living being. A liquid carpet. It spread over the seats and the dashboard and it ran down the windows in rivulets first, then waterfalls made of black blood. Tom wanted to scream, wanted out. Out. Out. Out. Wanted to rip of his skin covered in that substance. Wanted to run. His mind screaming in shocked denial. This wasn't happening!
"Leave!" Something whispered into his ear as he fumbled for the door handle and panicking he drove his shoulder against the window which didn't help a thing, only gained him a throbbing shoulder. The door gave way before he found the handle and he fell out of the car head first onto the pavement. He yelled, scraping his palms on the tiny pebbles and scrambling away so fast that didn't even take the time to find his balance first. Stumbling against the brick wall that separated their estate from their neighbors he pressed his back against it, staring at the car. It stood on the drive way, harmless and clean, and Tom sobbed with relief and terror, his own blood rushing in his ear and his breath going so fast that his chest ached with it. Looking at his hand it turned out clean except for some loose earth that Tom had fallen into.
Through the open passenger door Tom could see that the radio was still switched on, static hissing in annoyance and the radio lights flickered erratically before dying with an almost human sigh that send another wave of shivers over his back. Slowly, the night sounds got alive around him, the BBQ was still in full party mode. Crickets were chirring, a dog was barking. Two dogs actually. Then another one. But they faded away like whatever had alarmed them was vanishing.
"What..." Tom mumbled, still not sure he was even awake. That had not just happened. It just hadn't. Maybe he had a mild...no, make it a serious sun stroke. Nothing more. Yes, that must've been it. Tom was sure. He blinked. Once, twice. And the car remained the same if there hadn't been two figures in the backseat. Children only, two boys. Their limbs entwined so tight that Tom couldn't even make out where the first boy ended and the second began. One of the boys had wrapped his arms tight around the smaller one, glaring viciously at Tom and if he hadn't had a wall against his back he would've backed off even further. There was such an anger in the boy's eyes--so much pain--that Tom wondered how feelings that intense could inhabit such a small person. The younger boy blinked at him from behind the older one's embrace. Huge brown eyes that were leaking with pain and despair and a disappointment that Tom had not thought possible. His heart fell. It plunged deep and for a second, just a tiny second, the world didn't make sense for Tom anymore. His view of the world upside down.
And he knew. He knew more than he had ever wanted. Knowledge so impacting that it would never go away.
The door shut close with a loud bang and the boys vanished, leaving behind an empty car with a crushing history. A car that held a meaning without a reason.
Tom never sold it. But he didn't drive it either. It had deserved to be resting in peace.