Short Fiction

Asleep at the Wheel

By Christian Mueth

"You sure can run your mouth, but your mind isn't running with it... My answer is no."

"No? This is a once in a lifetime opportunity! You can't just—."

"Just stop for a damn minute and listen to yourself. You want me to save my business... By running it into the ground?"

"By running it underground. There's a difference."

"Like hell there is."

"Trust me. It's genius! You'll be the first restaurant in town to operate underground. It'll be the hot new trend!"

"Yeah... Sure... And how much exactly do you want me to spend on this 'brilliant' venture?"

"That's honestly up to you. And, uh... Well, also up to me, I guess, since that's what you're paying me for. The cost won't be much. You just need to buy a nice piece of property. Drill in it, then grill in it. Brilliant."

"I didn't spend twenty years building up my business, just to end up back in a basement."

"And, I didn’t spend twenty in real estate to end up — seeing you pass up this offer."

"Get real. What offer? Unless you have a viable piece of land to give me, your advice is utter shit."

"You have guts, Smith. Talking to me like that... Whatever. I'm eyeing a few prime locations, as a matter of fact. I'll — I'll get the list to you, by tomorrow. But, you shouldn't have to spend more than fifty grand."

"Fifty grand? That's... That's better than the hundred that I was planning on shelling out...”

"It is."

"You promise that you can keep your promise?"

"Of course. Why wouldn't I?"

"Promise?"

"Promise," I said.

More is better. Meet your quota, and never say no. That's how you go pro.

At least, that's the mantra I've always stuck by. Kind of the general knowledge of the real-estate industry. Never been sure how true my mantra is, though. I've never been that smart of a guy.

I wiped a bead of sweat from my forehead and rolled over in my bed, pressing my face into my pillow. I let out a moan. Why had I promised I could get that deal? Why had I been so stupid?

I banished the memory.

The night's frigid hands clutched me, then burrowed under my skin. My feet went numb. I drew my blanket closer to my chest, shivering. Another day, another missed electricity bill, and another night without electricity.

Ticking rapped at my ears. It scraped away at the drums. My eyes darted to another set of hands, resting on my bedside — the hands of my watch. I squinted.

"1:30," I slurred.

My eyes slanted, begging for rest. My eyelids stayed open. I was halfway through the night and not a wink of sleep had come to meet me. I rubbed my hands together and gave them a hot breath.

Several years ago, I'd watched a documentary about people in the arctic, who'd lived in igloos all their lives. I could never be one of those people.

Sitting up, I dangled the watch — watched as the seconds rolled away. Soon enough, it'd be 6:00. I just had to keep waiting.

I snorted. "Keep waiting". That's what I'd been telling myself for the past month. Some good that'd been. Weeks of begging people to make deals, dishonesty, and downright desperation, all for nothing. I'd worn myself ragged, but still wasn't any closer to getting warmer.

What was I supposed to do if I couldn't get this deal to go through? Hell, what if I couldn't find a place to sell? It wasn't like I could just go back to my old place. There weren't many other places to go, either...

Did the local post-office still need a new secretary? Maybe I could make that work.

As the watch swung, I caught a glimpse of my reflection. It was a warped image — bleary-eyed, and disheveled. Half-dead. It couldn't have been me. It looked nothing like me. I turned away. It had to have been me.

I chuckled. In my efforts to get people property, I was on the verge of losing my own. In trying to make a name for myself, I'd lost all credibility. Irony has a way of ironing one out. Yet, I had no other choice but to forge forward.

There was a crunch. My thumb and forefinger spasmed. Something wrapped around them — tightened. Heart skipping a beat, my eyes skimmed back to the watch. My brow furrowed. The watch's leather strap was furling inward. Jumping backward in my bed, I felt my blanket wrap around me and smother my chest. I yanked at the blanket, only for it to firm its grip. There was another crunch. My eyes snapped back to my watch — yet, it’d disappeared. In its place were series of interlocking wheels, hanging from my hand. They churned into one another, in an eerie caw. My stomach turning to a pretzel, I writhed against my blanket. After I finally thrust it away, it shifted in midair. Its ends fed into themselves, it turned to a wheel of cloth. The cloth shed away, only a metal wheel remaining.

I leapt from my bed and tore at the wheels clenching my hand. Though, the wheels’ teeth only sunk deeper and expanded. The tip of my finger corroded, exposing an interlocking series of wheels beneath. With a gulp, I stumbled toward the cold gleam of my door’s silver knob. This didn't make sense. My vision must've been pulling a trick on me. Perhaps I'd gone too long without food — without sleep.

I wasn't able to linger on these thoughts for long. As my hand neared the doorknob, its silver sheen deteriorated to another series of wheels. The wheels then spread to the door. They spread to the floor. Their countless spokes taunted me and their axles bore into my soul like staring eyes.

I ran my hands through my hair. I winced. The wheels along my left hand crept into my hair, tugging at it. I tore them away, taking clumps of hair with it. A rock dropped through my chest. My hand burned, as though a hot iron were pressed to it. Worse, my fingers morphed to a set of interlocking wheels and mechanisms. My eyes widened as the mechanisms migrated inward, invading my palm.

There was a squeal. My eyes shot down. The floor turned to sheets of iron, and steadily peeled away to a bottomless chasm of spokes. Turning on my heel, I sped toward my bed. My eyes ricocheted around the room. Where was my bed? My television? My coffee table? At the very least, I needed my power-blender. Though, I only found husks of wheels spilling on the ground. They rolled toward me. My eyes rolled away and I ran after them. My chest coiled. The spokes drew nearer, coming ever closer to encircling me.

My foot snagged something, knocking me to the ground. With a moan, I looked behind. An arm of wheels reared from the floor, before clasping my leg. I kicked at it. I clawed. I tried to crawl away. Yet, my left hand was useless, and my right hand floundered aimlessly. The ground buckled, further bending into the chasm. With a sigh, I surrendered. The arm released me, and I rolled into the blackness. Making my plummet, my gut raised to my throat and sent twinges of pain down my sides. Emptiness enveloped me. Wheels jabbed at my back. I looked up, back to the patch of light I'd fallen from. It shrunk as it raised away. Or, was I dropping further?

I hit the ground. Or, at least, something like it. Wheels seemed to cackle as they clacked against my back. I tried to roll from my stomach and sit up. However, at each move, I was met by more wheels. They twisted my skin and pushed against my bones. I tucked my head in submission, letting the wheels carry my deeper into the dark.

“It’s pretty isn’t it?”

There were chirps. Scents of freshly cut grass and smoke wafted to my nose. I shuddered. Our massive yard had recently been preened, and a bonfire lapped at the center of it. I leaned toward it, outstretching my stick. Somebody slapped the back of my hand and pulled it back. I looked — it was my father.

"Hey! Keep your distance. Remember what I said earlier? You can't just rush into things, like that," he said. His voice smoothed. "Patience. You were too close."

A wall of wheels opened ahead of me, followed by beams of light. The wheels beneath my spine moved faster. Harsher. Their axles grinded and popped. Joints popped. I gasped. They were my joints. Drawing closer to the light, I gained a better view of my surroundings. I was in a tight shaft, being pulled along a conveyor of wheels.

The wheels continued ramping up their speed. My muscles tensed and heartrate raised. I shot from the conveyor, and into the light —into the night. Wind rushed under me, carrying me forward. The stars winked by, as a blur.

I landed on pavement, with a crunch.

"Ow," I muttered.

Though, I strangely felt no pain. I felt nothing. I attempted to pull myself up, only to slide back to the ground. Rolling to my back, I glanced at my left side. A cluster of wheels had overtaken my forearm and climbed deeper. I suppressed a gag and used my right arm to pull myself up. I flicked away clumps of dirt from my shirt. They’d been morphing into wheels. I looked behind — my apartment building had disappeared. In its place was a sprawling web of gears and wheels. Looking down the street, I only found more wheeled buildings. Hairs along my right arm pricked up. A howl of wind rushed past. My ratty t-shirt and sweat-shorts nearly blew off. If only I'd dressed warmer.

Trying to ignore the lumbering numbness in my left arm, I made my way down the sidewalk. Peering along it, I was struck by overwhelming barrenness. Was there any other soul out there, seeing this? Was I the sole sufferer? My eyes retreated to the clouds, hoping to find a plane or helicopter arcing across the sky. Though, I was met by a swirling mess of clouds, wheeling into one another. I squinted — the stars seemed to be swirling as well. Breaths becoming leaden, I broke into a sprint. My eyes jumped from building to building, searching for one that was unscathed. There had to be a place of refuge somewhere.

I stopped when an owl fluttered in front of me and gave a hoot. My heart skipped a beat. I peered into its glassy eyes. I could count the reflections of a dozen stars within them.

The owl flinched, then peered into me. I was frozen. Once its gaze slit a pang in my heart, its head spun, all the way around. A chill ran down my spine and the owl gave another hoot. Its head made another turn. As it did, its neck stretched upward. It twisted and contorted. Finally, it unlatched from the neck and rolled to the ground. Its eyes shattered, turning to wheels. The feathers shed to the ground, then did likewise. I backed away. I needed to escape. I needed to forget. Though, I could feel myself being dragged back to the wells of my memory.

"Stay quiet. Stay careful. Stay vigilant."

I was in the woods of my parent's old property, at my father's side. He held a hunting rifle in hand, while I was armed with a BB gun. We were after a wild bobcat, in the dead of night. My father cautioned it was close by, and to keep my eyes wary.

"And, don't shoot unless I do first. Patience is key."

There was a rustling among the trees. A purr. A blast of sulfur. I followed suit, pulling my own trigger. Yet, to no results.

"Dammit. Almost had him..." my father said. "If only we'd been faster."

There was another rustle. A shout. My eyes jumped to the trees. Without second thought, I fingered my trigger.

"Owen, stop!"

It was too late. A cold thump hit the ground. I stalked forward, then became sick. I'd shot down an animal — but it was a bird.

"An owl," my father said, with a moan. "Owen, you killed an owl. Why didn't you listen to me?"

"But, I did. You shot first."

My father shook his head, and pulled my gun from my hands.

"You weren't patient. You weren't quiet. And you certainly weren't careful. Why didn't you just listen?"

Why hadn't I listened?

I let out a yelp. The owl had decayed to a churning lump, and its wheels rode up my calves. Breaking into a run, I tried shaking the wheels from my legs. A grimace mapped my face as they pinched my skin. Clinks resounded as some fell on the concrete, but many remained.

A ringing broke through my ears and I skidded to a halt. A slab of pavement ahead contorted and its corners softened. After a few seconds, it'd turned to a wheel, and I'd turned in the other direction. The lump of the owl’s wheels were still roving toward me. I bounded into the street and plowed forward. I smirked as I blew past the owl’s wheels, and the night's frigid air blew past me. Though, the smile faded as the wheels on my calves pinched tighter. I looked down — a patch of my skin had flaked away, replaced by metal gears and rotors. I glanced at the mound of wheels behind me. They'd sped up, and were closing in.

Pumping my limbs ever faster, I noticed a stiffness to them. Perhaps it was just due to the late hour and my lack of exercise. Yet, I couldn't help but feel as though the wheels were bringing chaos throughout my body, and I was merely moments away from falling to tatters like the owl.

My legs carried me past a series of buildings. My lungs burned, and my stomach went inside out. If I could've had it my way, I would've dropped dead then and there. Yet, I kept moving until I passed a building made of brick, with a broad alleyway. Finally — a normal building. I slowed to a jog, and then leaned along a trash-can.

Thrusting my head back, I took in deep gulps of air. It'd been too long running, with too little direction. If only there weren't so many wheels... So surreal.

I took in another breath of air, my lips furling in repulsion. My eyes darted to the left, where a dumpster sat. Why did the only safe alleyway have to have a giant dumpster in it? I walked deeper in, before halting. There'd been the slightest shift. A creak?

A squeak. The turn of a wheel. I staggered ahead, until I hit the alley’s dead-end. My heartrate climbing to my throat, I pressed my back against the dead-end and scanned for the source of the sound. My eyes landed back on the dumpster — to a piece of trash next to it. A desk-chair.

I chuckled to myself. I hadn't heard a set of wheels — it'd just been the chair, shifting in the wind. I was just being paranoid.

Taking another look at the chair, I noticed the way light bounced off it. It was built of smooth leather and possessed a sturdy design. It was a familiar design. In fact, it was very nearly an exact clone of an old office chair I'd had. I squinted and caught its logo — "DeerSmith". It was an exact clone.

"Are you kidding me?" he said, with a snort.

"I just need one more spin," I said.

The room whirled. Warm light spilled on my face from a nearby window. A blur of brown rushed past me. The blur slowed to stacks of boxes. My chair stopped, with a creak. Several of the boxes were labeled "Chad", and the rest were labeled "Owen".

"There. You spun. Had your fill yet? Because, I can’t keep waiting to pack that thing."

Smirking, I let out a sigh. "I'm really not sure. I think I might need to sit here a moment, and really think about that..."

"You really are the worst. You know that?"

He grabbed the back of the chair, and tilted it until I spilled to the ground.

Bringing myself back on my feet, I brushed the seat of my pants."Jesus — at least give a guy a warning, first."

Chad shrugged, then wheeled the chair away. My head spun around the office. The carpet and walls were utterly empty, save for a few stains and scuffs.

"This just doesn't feel right," I said. "Too clean. It needs more trash...”

There was a clang as Chad threw the chair onto a cart.

"What's gotten into you?" I said.

I strode up to Chad and gave him a punch in the arm.

"You can't go a minute without trying to say something smart, can you?" asked Chad.

I flashed a grin and leaned on a wall. "Hey: it's part of the charm. Besides, you only have to deal with my annoying mug for the next hour. Then, I'm off. Let's just tolerate each other for a —."

"You might think this is great for you, Owen... Leaving the office, selling the company, going out on your own... But, did you ever think about how it might affect the rest of us?"

"You all already have other job offers that you've taken up!" I said. "Are you seriously trying to guilt me, just for taking a better job?"

"No. I’m guilting you for just rushing into all of this, and leaving us behind... I dunno. Maybe I’m being harsh here, but did it ever occur to you that maybe — just maybe — we liked what you had going? This company you built is something special. You’re never going to get it back."

I paused, to give a thoughtful nod.

"It was a good run. But, I can't help but feel that this was never really my company. It's time to move on. There's no point in just sitting around... Movement. I need it. I don't have the temperament to stay here."

Chad's eyes went heavy. He put a hand on my shoulder.

"Good luck at being solo, I guess."

"I will. And who knows? Once I've made it big, maybe I can take you with me."

Chad grabbed his cart and pushed it away.

"Good luck."

I ran my hands through my hair. Three years. Here, then gone. Some "opportunity" my real estate venture had turned out to be. As it turns out, handling real estate in a city isn't so easy. There's plenty of pie, but too little of it is actually free to go around.

If I'd just stayed where I was, I wouldn't be dealing with my current "underground property" problem. I had no way to follow through on my promise. There was simply not enough land. Yet, I was on the hook to figure out something.

I'd be fine though. I had to be. I'd always figured out how to squeak by, in the past. I could do it again.

My eyes narrowed. The chair squeaked. It jostled. Maybe it was a breeze? Yet, the wind had died to a murmur. In trepidation, I pushed myself further against the wall. The chair slid forward. Its wheels groaned, then rattled. I huddled into a corner and the chair sped up. I looked to each side of the alley. Perhaps I could skirt around the chair. Though, as it came closer, its seat and armrests deformed into webs of wheels. My stomach coiled.

There was a roar. Light flashed. Two lights. Headlights.

A car rushed down the alleyway, its sides skidding the wall. It pulverized the chair into scattered pieces. Continuing to rush forward, it narrowly passed me and crashed into the wall. I choked. My eyes and nose burned, with tears. I'd narrowly escaped death. Yet, I could still hear the car’s engine running broiling with fury.

Shimmying along the wall, I made my way past the car. The hot kick of exhaust singed my ankles as the car shifted gears, from drive to reverse. I sprinted. My eyes ran along the walls of the alleyway — brick was crumbling away, exposing new layers of wheels and gears. My body tingled. There was a series of roars. I looked over my shoulder, only to find the car puttering toward me. The roars couldn't have been from that. Yet, the roars persisted.

My eyes shot ahead. A car rocketed down the street. Several more trickled after. Suddenly, there was a stream. Drawing closer to the street, my eyes narrowed — the cars were slightly askew in their design. Rather than having colorful, sheen bodies, they were skeletons of bars and gears.

Stepping out of the alleyway, I was met with a frigid gust. A car rode the gale, rushing past me as though I were a ghost. I looked to my left — a car veered in my direction and increased its speed. On instinct, I dove out of the way and onto the pavement.

Bad call. Waves of cars went by, swirling into wild currents. My ears rang with squeals and thuds as they swerved and crashed. I tried stepping away and searched for the alleyway, but the cars muddied my surroundings. I was adrift at sea, left to navigate the storm on my own.

Praying that none of the cars would plow me, I ran along the road's dividend. My prayers fell on deaf ears. A car mirror clipped my calf, and another car smacked into my left arm. It were as if they were out to kill me. Were they?

I peered through the window of one of the cars, as it hurtled by. In the driver's seat was a metal man. Or at least, something like one. In place of flesh were oscillating gears and wheels. Its eyes were nothing more than two thick screws, and a mouth was absent. As my eyes followed after it, its head turned in my direction. It could see me. Yet, it should’ve been just as mindless as any of the cars.

How mindless were the cars?

There was a crunch. I looked down to find flattened metal, in place of where my right foot had been. I should've screamed. My body should've been burning with pain. Yet, my entire calf was numb, having been overtaken by metal. It was a foreign lump. Yet, as the gears continued colonizing my skin, I questioned how foreign the metal was. Were they really not part of me? Or, was I not part of me?

I looked behind, hoping to find the car that had run my leg over. I came up empty. An emptiness settled in my gut. The cars were getting more vicious and precise. Maybe I was wrong: maybe they did have minds. I tried speeding my pace, but my right leg scraped behind. There was a twinge in my arm as a spark flew to it. The air buzzed of more bolting engines. To make room, cars drove along the sidewalks — sidewalks that’d turned entirely metal. Escape was no longer an option to me. All I had was surrender. Yet, my running continued, adrenaline pumping through me.

An ear-piercing screech resounded. I looked at the end of the street, to a towering building — Lambeau Tower. In the past, I'd stopped to take pictures and marvel at its robust foundations. Standing at seven-hundred feet, I’d seen few structures quite like it. Though, staring at it then, I watched it waver. The wind picked up. Subtle creaks leaked from down under. Lambeau Tower’s frame shifted. First back. Second, forth. Third, back and forth. Fourth... Still forth.

It dipped into an unrelenting plummet, the metal from its base rupturing. As it hit the ground, a shockwave rippled through my bones. Cars slipped into crashes and flipped. Neighboring buildings broke into sways of their own. Bumbling back, I balked. I stopped running and walked. A fog of debris shrouded Lambeau Tower in an air of mystery. The cause of its collapse was impossible to tell from where I stood.

The cars slowed to halts. The humming gears in surrounding buildings jammed to a stop. The street went taut with silence. I could hear the patter of my foot and peg-leg against pavement. The pitiful pitter of my pulse. I lingered on each breath, letting them rinse my lungs.

My breaths stopped short. There was a shriek. Lambeau Tower shunted forward. At first, merely in a slight shift. Though, the shift then turned to a crawl. Wheels from the bottom of Lambeau Tower thundered. Suddenly, it tore down the street, overturning rows of cars. Eyes bulging, I stumbled and then sprinted away. Shatters erupted as Lambeau Tower chopped through rows of buildings, as if they were no more than blades of grass. I brought my hands to my ears to dampen their piercing crashes, but to ill effect. My metal hand did little to block sound, and left scratches along my ears.

My eyes swung throughout the street. Most of it was cluttered by various cars and wheels weaving through the pavement. I leaned to the left — there was an fork in the road, just ahead.

A car careened through the air, landing in the fork. I shifted to the right, only to be blocked by yet another car. Ears throbbing and body flooding with shock, I ran in a desperate circle. Where was the way out? There had to be one.

There was a putter. I looked behind. Just on the edge of Lambeau Tower’s cloud of chaos was a set of headlights. They winked at me, drawing closer. The headlights were then followed by the body of a truck. I squinted — a metal man sat in the driver's seat. He gave me a wave and the car picked up its pace. I should've run. My body should've welled with fear. Yet, for whatever reason, I stood in place.

Shavings of dust and metal blew by me, clinging to my hair and skin. I suppressed a cough as Lambeau Tower's cloud crashed over me. My vision blurred, but I kept focused on the bleary pair of headlights amid it all. The frigid night air warmed as the truck pulled to my side and let out a beep.

My mouth gaped as I searched for questions. Coming up empty, I clambered over the side of the truck and into its rear. The truck roared. Its wheels spun like mad, peeling away from Lambeau Tower. I bit my lip as the truck veered to the left fork, hurtling toward the blockading car.

My chest sunk. The truck gave no sign of stopping. This was it. A valiant rescue, that lasted less than a minute long.

Shuddering, the truck picked up speed. Shivers ran down my spine. My hands fastened around the sides of the truck. I pinched my eyes. Finally, I opened my mouth to shout. Yet, I was drowned out by a crash, as we made impact with the car.

Somehow, the truck kept going. I opened my eyes, to see flaking gears and chips of metal. The car had utterly disintegrated, upon our impact. The metal man pushed on the gas, rocketing the truck past the car’s debris and down the road.

Wheezing, I looked to Lambeau Tower — it’d abandoned pursuit, diverging down another street. I whipped back the metal man. Notches of screws and rods of metal were in place of where its spine should've been.

"Thanks for saving me," I said, meekly. "You have no idea what I've been through tonight... It — it's just insane."

No response. Could it hear me? Could it answer? Had it known that it'd saved me, or had some other force intervened on my behalf?

I wanted to believe that the metal man had meant to rescue me. Yet, it was entirely possible that him stopping his truck to let me aboard had been coincidence.

I shook my head. I was overthinking things. I was alive, and that was all that mattered. My eyes shot to my arm — the metal was eating my shoulder and bleeding into my chest.

I was mostly alive.

Sighing, I watched the truck climb in speed. The speedometer’s needle leaned forward, before finally capping at 100 miles per hour. A gust clawed my face and lashed at my hair. The street was but a smear of gray. Speed — I was one with speed.

"Slow down, Owen! You're going to get one of us killed!"

"Please, nobody uses this road. Calm down and live a little... A little fast."

"Ever heard of 'live fast, die young'?"

"Yes. Words to live by."

I pressed the gas to the floorboard, making the engine sing. I zoomed past buildings, and down a winding forest road. No matter how many trees streamed by, it seemed endless more were still ahead. However, when I looked to the sky, the clouds only moved in a crawl. Despite my speed, I was still slow. I was still small.

I peered over my shoulder and looked at Bryce.

"Come on... Don't tell me this isn't amazing."

"It's really nice," Bryce said, petting the car's cherry door from out his window. "But, where are you getting all this cash from? Aren't you living on your own now?"

"I have my ways," I said, with a smirk.

"Owen... If this is another one of your schemes —."

"It’s not like that!"

"I'm not saying it is. I'm just trying to make sure you're doing the right thing here."

I laughed, shrugging him off. "All I know is that it feels right. That's all anybody can know, am I right?"

The tires squealed as I swerved out of my lane, then swerved back in. I checked my mirrors to marvel at the thick streaks my tires left in their wake. Bryce was sweating buckets, and his fingers dug into his seat's armrests.

"So tense," I said, laughing. "You should probably take a vacation, some time."

"And you should go back to taking driving lessons," said Bryce.

I flashed a grin and pumped further on the gas.

"Lucky for me, I don't have time to, because I'm actually going on a vacation. Probably to the Bahamas."

"Lucky you... I'll just be here, looking for a job."

Letting off the gas, I readjusted my mirrors. I could've sworn there'd been a smudge on one of them.

"Oh. Nice," I said. "What type are you thinking?"

"Truck driving..."

I cast Bryce a sidelong glance.

Bryce rolled his eyes and snickered. "I just finished getting my engineering degree... What type of job do you think I'm trying to get?"

I shrugged.

"Why do you care, anyway?" Bryce pressed. "What? You thinking of piggybacking?"

"I'm good on jobs, myself. Probably going to start my own business, or something."

"You know, an actual business degree might've helped with that..."

"Shut up. I know what I'm doing. Gates, Jobs, Zuckerberg... They all turned out alright."

Rolling into a bend, I squinted and held my hand over my eyes. The sun was blaring with a fury.

"Yep," Bryce said. "Because, you're totally the next Gates."

"I a—."

An ear-piercing screech resounded as I slammed my brakes. The car rumbled and the tires skidded. My body lurched into my dashboard. Finally, I recoiled back into my seat as we reached a halt.

"I am screwed," I said in a hush.

Just ahead of us, a car had pulled from the side of the road and parked in the center. For a split-second, I had the urge to honk my horn. Then, I saw the car's sky-blue paint. The custom, oblong headlights. As the driver stepped out and into the road, there was no denying who it was.

It was my father.

His gaze was piercing, and his face granite. Despite this, he wore a thin smile on his lips. There was a rustle as Bryce shifted back in his seat and brushed off his clothes.

"Roll up your window," I hissed.

Bryce merely swallowed and shook his head. I went to put my car in reverse — yet, as I did, my hand froze in midair. I couldn't bring myself to do it. Why couldn't I?

My father strode up to my driver's door and rapped on my windshield.

"Dad," I said, suppressing a choke. "What brings you here."

"Not much. Just going for a drive... And then saw you here. Wondered what brought you. Funny how that works."

"Funny," I said, cracking a smile.

My skin chafed against my pant legs, sweat oozing from my pores.

"So... Having fun in the peace corps?" My father asked. His tongue rolled in his mouth, as though he were trying to dislodge something from his teeth.

I looked away.

Bryce shot me a glare. "You never said anything about —."

I raised my hand, to cut him off.

"Nice car," my father said, with a stiff nod. His smile turned to a frown. "How'd you get your hands on something like this?"

I scratched my temples. "A friend loaned it to me for the day."

My father folded his arms into his chests, clenched his jaw, and let out a tired sigh. "Yes... I suppose that’s also supposed to explain your infamous joyrides people have been talking about lately?"

"Not my joyrides.”

"Of course, of course... Just like that missing quarter of a million dollars wasn’t your money."

I feigned a look of bemusement.

"A quarter of a million dollars? I don't know what you're —."

My father slammed his hand on the inside of my window. "You do. I recently had to take a peek at the books for Crosby Landscaping. And, wouldn't you know it? A quarter of a million dollars has just... Dripped away! Disappeared! And, do you know who I ended up tracing all of this lost money back to?"

His eyes bored through my skull.

"I'm sorry," I said. Though, I couldn't even look him in the eye. I was in a headlock with the road.

"What the hell were you thinking?" he said, his voice quivering. "This stunt of yours? It might kill the whole company. I want to say that we have a way to fix this... But, you've already spent most of it, haven't you?"

I frowned. My eyes burned. Then, they went firm.

"It'll all be fine," I said. "But I — I just don't have the time, right now."

"Wha—."

There was a screech as I put my engine in reverse and slammed the gas. My father's hands slid away from my car's door. He steadily shrunk as I rushed away. Finally, I put my car in drive, and turned into the other lane. My speed ratcheted, with me pushing it to its limits.

"What was that?" Bryce said.

"I can't live here anymore. I have to get out of here. Scratch the Bahamas."

"Wait — you're just going to take his money, and run?"

"He’ll be fine. You don't understand, Bryce... I need that money. It's the only way I can get to where I want to be."

Bryce nodded. "Stop the car."

"What?"

"Stop the car. I'm getting out. I'll get somebody else to pick me up."

"Bryce, I can't just drop you off..."

"And, I can't just sit by, while you do this."

I shuddered and looked at the churning buildings, and the asphalt pavement as it steadily succumbed to metal. My eyes shot to my arm. I pulled up my sleeve — the wheels had overcome my shoulders and were on my chest. Time was running out. I needed a way out.

"And, how are you doing this fine night?"

I jumped and looked back through the truck’s rear window. The metal man's head had swiveled 180°, its eyes plastering to mine.

This time, I was the one left unresponsive. My mouth went dry, and my eyes glazed over. The world slurred.

Sliding to the side, I hugged the edge of the truck. We turned down a steep street, and into what used to have been the local marketplace. Shops and kiosks were tarnished to deteriorating sludges of steel. Thunder resounded, but the sky was barren. The moon and stars were utterly exposed. I paused to stare at the moon. It'd fallen under the same disease as the city, having turned to a massive wheel. It entered an arc, spinning through the air.

There was another clap of thunder. Behind, buildings toppled into each other like dominoes. Wheels and springs flung about, multiplying as they hit the ground.

"Quiet, are you?" the metal man asked, swerving down another street. "You have a lot to think about, don't you? I can see it on your face."

I shook my head, leafing through my thoughts. My chest tightened — I did have a lot. Without a decent piece of land, I'd be sleeping on the streets. Yet, upon seeing the state of the city, my chances of finding one were all but null.

"I love nights like these," said the metal man. "The nights when wanderers from the other world are out and about... You people always are so interesting. Always a story to tell."

The metal man turned his head back around, weaving through a street swallowed in silver weeds and arms. As we drove through, the truck's wheels stammered. Arms from the street groped at it, trying to drag us down.

"More spreaders," the metal man said with a laugh, pushing on the gas.

The air sliced in two as our truck's wheels were stripped. The truck’s body slammed to the ground. A series of plinks followed. Leaning over the side of the truck, I watched bits fall away and turn to a fine sand. A gust of wind carried through, blowing the sand away.

"Push the gas harder," I shouted. "Do something. We need to move. We're going to die!"

The metal man laughed again, then stepped out of the truck.

"It's fine," he said. "There's no moving, with the truck lodged like this. It looks like we'll need to walk."

The ground was littered with wild arms and wheels, desperately clawing. I could've jumped over the side. Instead, I shivered.

"I'm not walking," I said.

"Clearly not," said the metal man. He outstretched a hand. "But if you want a way out of here, you might want to reconsider."

Cautiously, I took the metal man's hand. Steadying my breaths, I stepped from the back of the truck and onto the ground. I winced, expecting the bite of metal fangs. No bite came. My eyes surveyed the ground. The storm of metal had calmed, with only an array of lazy wheels comprising up the street. Buildings drifted by as these wheels pulled me forward.

I let out a sigh of relief, and brushed sweat from my forehead.

"Well, I'm not dead," I said, with a forced chuckle.

"So it seems," said the metal man.

Its screw for an eye shifted, aiming at my metallic arm and legs. Following its gaze, I found that my entire left leg had faded to metal, with the metal now spreading to my opposite hip and stomach. Meanwhile, the metal of my left arm had spread across much of my back and chest. I pressed a hand against my chest, hoping to find my heartbeat. There was only a dull ping.

"Oh god... Am I running out of time?" I asked.

"Are you running out of time?" the metal man repeated. The metal on its face shifted, almost curving into a smile. "The better question is: are you running after time? From what I've seen, time is always running somewhere. Running out. Running in. Running over. Running under... The trick is for one to stop chasing it."

My eyes whipped back up. We'd passed through the cluster of marketplaces and reached the edge of a park. My eyes narrowed — somehow, the trees and leaves of the park remained untainted by the plague of metal. Even the sidewalk feeding through it was gravel. Metal wheels lapped at its edge but were unable to penetrate it.

"I don't think I've ever been here before," the metal man said. He walked forward, through the park's entrance. Dumbfounded, I followed after.

We climbed a steep hill. Rocks slid underfoot, and leaving me nearly crawling up the trail. As a heave ran through me, the metal man's hand gripped my shoulder and hoisted me up.

"Why isn't this park overrun by those wheels?" I asked, marveling at the vegetation. I tore a leaf from a low-hanging branch and peeled it in my hand.

My mouth gaped. On any other night, the park would've seemed entirely mundane. It was mundane. Yet, to find mundanity amid chaos was somehow more perplexing than chaos alone.

"Why is it still overrun by trees?" asked the metal man. "Old roots and wood... Should've been the first thing to go, when you think about it. I guess things have a way of surprising us."

We neared the top of the hill. A map of stars crowned it, spinning madly. I watched as one star streaked across. My steps slowed to soak it in.

"So, what's your story?" the metal man asked. "You could've been anywhere tonight. What brought you here?"

"I couldn't answer if I tried," I said. "I'm just as clueless as you are about why I'm here. I can only hope for things to become clear soon."

We reached the top of the hill. I looked into the landscape of the park — into the clusters of trees, the interweaving trails, the looping streams of water. I took in a deep breath, and my muscles loosened. The park seemed to ebb through me. As the branches rustled, the hairs on my right arm rustled with it. My eyes swum with the current of the water. A golden leaf came loose from a tree, floating to the ground. My stomach fluttered. I dipped into a crouch position and ran my hand through the soil.

A breeze whirled into my face. Following it, my head cocked to the left. On the edge of the trail was a house, overlooking a lake. A thick fence surrounded it, and a stream of water bordered it as a moat. My body was magnetized. Standing up, I stumbled toward it.

"Where are you going?" the metal man asked.

"Where I feel like," I said, drifting down the side of the hill. "Don't you see that house, over there?"

The metal man's body jittered. "I'll follow you, until I do."

Grass tickled my legs. Leaves cheekily leaped from the trees, and toward my face. As I traveled down the path, in hope of reaching the house, the house seemed ever further away. It were as if it was drifting back the closer I came. My eyes flicked from the trail — maybe things would be faster if I were to cut between the grass. Shaking my head, I went back to the trail.

Time rushed by, and I finally reached the edge of the stream. The house’s iron fence loomed over me. A thick padlock was fixed around the gate. I looked for a way to scramble over, but barbed wire lined all sides.

The metal man tapped my left shoulder, leaving a clink.

"Why did you stop?" he asked.

"There's no way in. No way over," I said, with a chuckle. "Not even sure why I came here... I guess it just reminded me of my parents' old house, is all. We can go back."

Chilly wind whistled through my ear.

"What do you mean 'no way in'?" the metal man asked. "We can keep going forward."

I ran my hand through my hair and laughed coldly. "Yes. Genius plan! Let's rush headlong into a giant fence."

"What fence?"

I shot the metal man a look.

"Are you blind? Don't you see that massive fence in front of us?"

The metal man shook its head. "I don't have much eyesight to speak of... However, as far as I can tell, there's only an open grove ahead."

Heartrate racing, I squinted at the fence. The metal man must've just been slow-witted. Maybe he was willfully ignoring the fence, altogether. I snapped my arm up and gripped around a bar to the fence. There was a screech. The bars disintegrated to wheels. Yanking my hand away, I stepped back and looked around. Wheels were spreading across the fence like a wildfire. As they fell to the grass, they rushed through, transforming everything to cold metal. It spread toward the house, then onto the pathway I was standing on.

I needed a way out. There had to be a quick way out, wasn't there? It wasn't possible that there was no way out. I refused to believe it. Though, as I went to pull my leg from the ground, it clasped around my ankles. I pulled at my other leg, but it too wouldn't budge. Wheels clenched around it, rooting me in place. I let out a yelp.

"Help!"

My head snapped back around, to see the metal man reaching toward me. The pathway's wheels were gripping around him as well, with increasing ferocity. In the sky, the stars and moon were spinning ever faster. Then, faster.

Faster, still.

"What do we do?" I pleaded, as the wheels reached my stomach.

"It appears that you've reached your shift point," the metal man said, with a wail.

"My what?"

"Your shift-point... Many a traveler that comes down here eventually has one. Generally, they have it far later on. I've never been there to witness one myself before, thankfully. But, it appears I witness it now. Best of luck on getting past it."

There was a roiling roar. Squirming and groaning, the house melted into a cascade of metal. It morphed into a wave and rushed toward me.

"What the hell is a 'shift-point'?!"

"The better question would be, 'what isn't it?'"

"I need clear and quick answers! You're not making any sense!"

The metal man's lower body fell away.

"Who said I had to?"

The metal man craned its neck upward as its upper body fell to dust, before its head finally crashed to the ground. Its assorted parts vanishing to nothingness, my chest sunk.

My body tensed as metal spread through my body. The wave sped toward me, gaining mass and force as it went. My eyes danced around the park. Perhaps another metal man would come, driving another car to rescue me. Yet, all I saw were clusters of trees, also steadily succumbing to the metal.

I clenched my jaw. I wasn't thinking quick enough. Why could I never think sharp when it mattered most?

My skin slowly went numb, as the metal made its way up my chest — My neck. As everything went fuzzy, I stared into the sky. It rushed around, like a whirlwind. Everything was moving fast. I was moving slow. Then, I stopped moving. My jaw went dead. My eyes froze.

Why couldn't everything slow down? The house — why did it have to disintegrate? Why did everything have to fall apart, all around me? Why couldn't things stay in sync?

Sync...

I looked to the stars and watched them spin. Flashes of my life went past my eye — fast. The stars moved with them. A breeze funneled through my body.

I thought back to the house. To the park. The calm that it’d brought, before the wheels overtook them. I needed to return to that calm. That comfort. I steadied my breaths. My head ached, but a rush of relief coursed through. Staring into the stars again, my mind reached out. I thought back to the way things were before.

As wheels clustered over my eyes, there was a piercing creak. The spinning slowed, then stopped entirely. My body warped into the sky, spiraling between sparkling trails of comets and stars. I was torn through the moon. Then, I was back on the ground. Leaves fluttered down from the trees. The wheels receded, folding flesh on my bones. The stars turned backward. Everything turned backward. Rotors and iron struts were overtaken by vegetation — by life. The stream sprung back.

While light dancing along the water, I strode up to the stream. I scanned for any sign of the house I’d seen. Yet, there wasn't a hint. Just a wide, open field of grass and weeds.

A bird chirped, off in the distance. A moth blew by my face. I smiled. My field. My place. I glanced at my watch — it was 1:31. There was still time. There'd always be time.

Something clutched my shoulder, sending chills through me. I turned around. It was a hand.

It was the hand of the metal man.

"You did good, Owen," he said. "I've never seen anybody pass their shift-point, before."

My chest went heavy. "I still don't think you have. But, I guess it doesn't matter."

I sat down in the grass and stared out to the open field. There as a clank as the metal man sat next to me, then placed an arm around my shoulder. I looked for a sign of more metal, outlying the park — there was none. Only the metal man.

"Everything matters, in the circle of life," said the metal man.

"Maybe... Maybe not. We all see ourselves as the center of the circle, don't we?"

"Do we?"

"I do. I did. And, if we all are the center... Then there is no center. There's just us, moving uncontrollably."

"We can keep control."

"Control is overrated though, isn't it?"

I took in a deep breath of the night air. I looked up and drank in the moonlight.

"I think I'm just going to sit here, awhile."

The metal man nodded. "So will I."

End