The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

I’m a Hot Bitch on Wheels
by Melissa R. Mendelson 

My arm was killing me, and blood was pouring down fast.  My heart was screaming in my chest.  Funny enough, my mind was only focused on one word.  MOVE.  Sweat ran down my skin, and finally, I saw it.  That damn car that I needed to survive, but last night, I craved sleeping in a bed.  Yeah, I’ll be safe, I thought, and now I’m running for my life.

I slid across the hood of the metallic beast, swung around and dove into the driver’s seat.  My hand slammed on the steering wheel, shimmered from pale flesh to dark gray metal, and the beast roared to life.  The rearview mirror tilted down, and yes, they were coming for me, smelling the implants buried beneath my skin.  And my foot hit the gas pedal.  Sorry guys, but I’m a hot bitch on wheels.  Yeehaw.

The horde ate my dust as I peeled off, and I glanced down at my arm.  She tore it open pretty good, and damn, she was quiet.  I never heard her sneak into the room, creep upon me as I slept, and then she was quick, ripping open my skin and eating my flesh.  I hope it doesn’t become infected.  I hope she didn’t get to the implants.  I’m gonna need my gun, and I’m gonna need it soon.  But first, I have to stop the bleeding.

Most models no longer have cigarette lighters.  Fuck that, I said.  If I want to smoke, then smoke them if you got them.  I pushed the cigarette lighter in, waited for it to warm up, and the beast roared again.  The road was clear.  Well, except for the bodies and debris, and the buildings were deceiving.  The people were either dead, hiding or infected.  The fucking zombie apocalypse except it wasn’t from disease.  It was caused by malfunctioned computer chips, and the cigarette lighter popped out.  I howled with fury as my skin burned, burnt flesh out the half open window.  Come on.  Dinner’s ready, and so were they, pouring out of the buildings like rabid animals.

“Shit,” I grumbled, and the beast coughed.  “Don’t cut out on me now, girl.  We’re hot and tearing up the road.”  I glanced down at my arm.  No sign of infection.  Yet.  “Damn it.”  I saw the bent, stumbling, twisted bodies of what were once people folding among each other, arms outward, begging for a piece of my car, thirsting for me.  “I guess I’m gonna have to do it,” and I didn’t want to.  It was going to hurt like hell.  “Shit,” I said again.

I slammed my injured arm down on top of the dashboard and pressed my hand against the windshield.  My pale flesh turned metallic grey, the implants activated, and a hole formed in the windshield.  My fist now a cannon aimed at the horde, and small sonic booms exploded, knocking the people, or what were once people down.  And my car finished them off, bumping up and down as I plowed into the rest of them.

“I’m not gonna make it,” but my foot never left the gas pedal.  My arm screamed with every blast.  My other hand steadied the wheel.  Somehow, I kept on until the last of them met my tires, and clear road waited up ahead.  Few bodies, some debris, but clear enough for me to tear up road and keep on going, leaving nothing but dust and broken bone behind.

My arm returned to its normal state, and I finally breathed.  I would move on to the next town, me and my beast.  Hopefully, there would be some quiet time waiting for me.  I glanced at my arm, some of the skin had darkened, black.  I’ve seen that color before, that color on them, my heart froze.  No, it’s just the burn from the cigarette lighter.  I’m fine.  I’m a hot bitch on wheels, but my beast knew different.  I could feel it as I forced the car to drive, and like the blood stained on my arm, the sun saturated the sky.

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Fiction © Copyright Melissa R. Mendelson
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com.

About Author Melissa R. Mendelson:

Melissa R. Mendelson is a Poet and Horror, Science-Fiction, and Dystopian Short Story Author.  Publications featuring her writing can be found here: https://linktr.ee/melissarmendelson