//------------------------------// // 77. Car Engines // Story: Kill Me Now // by Golden Script //------------------------------// The man on the other side of the door seemed deep in studies, like I sometimes get when I… lose myself in my work. Only he seemed a little angry. Young Dillon walked quietly and attentively towards the man that I assumed was his father. The man didn’t notice. “Um… dad.” Dillon said quietly. “I told you, I don’t want you to bother me while I’m working!” the man yelled. “I know and I’m sorry, but I got the engine to work!” Dillon said quickly. “Oh?” he seemed a little less angry, almost curious. “Yeah, it’s running in the garage right now.” “Really? Well, let’s go see it.” He didn’t seem happy, but at least he wasn’t angry anymore. They walked down the hallways; back the way Dillon had come, and reached the door to the garage. There was a… different sound coming from the other side and Dillon had a worried look on his face. They opened the door and the engine was still running, but it wasn’t as clean and smooth as before. It seemed to cough every few seconds. The man walked over to the hunk of metal and examined the internal parts. “And you built this from scratch.” He said, barely audible over the whirring. “Yes sir!” Dillon yelled proudly. Suddenly there was a particularly funny sound from the engine and the man standing by it had a horrified look on his face. “GET BACK!” the man yelled as he ran towards the door, picking Dillon up along the way. He burst through the door and tossed Dillon down the hall a few feet as he slammed the door and dove for cover. There was an earth shattering BOOM and then it was really quiet. “What happened?” Dillon asked. “Not sure.” The man responded “did you do anything different than a normal engine?” “Um, let me think…” he sat in thought for about five seconds, then shook his head “no, not really.” “Are you sure?” the man had a stern look on his face. “I might have added a little too much nitromethane.” He said nervously. The man roared in anger and stomped into the garage, stopping as soon as he opened the door. “What?” asked Dillon. The man just stood there, staring into the garage, not moving or talking. “What?” Dillon asked again, getting up to go see for himself. “don’t.” the man said as he started walking back towards Dillon, when Dillon tried to get around him the man grabbed him and carried him back to his office. ----- The scene shifted, it was now a little room with concrete walls and a mirror on one side, the mirror seemed a little dark for whatever reason. Dillon was sitting at a metal table in the center with some new jewelry. As I looked down at the silver bracelets I noticed that they aren’t very functional. There was a metal chain leading from one to the other, and a bar in the middle of the table kept him from moving too much. I realized that they weren’t a fashion statement; they were to stop him from hurting from someone. As I watched in horror a man with a suit on walked in, he had reflective glasses and a permanent scowl on his face. He sat down in front of Dillon. “Do you know what you did?” the new man said, I saw a small piece of metal on his shirt said ‘Sgt. Goodman’ on it. Wait, how did I know that? I’ve never seen those characters before. The child replied “no, dad wouldn’t let me see.” “God bless him.” The man said simply. “What did I do?” Dillon asked in a normal colt’s voice, like the most innocent thing in the world. “Look, I know you didn’t do it on purpose, but there are some others who think different.” The man dodged his question. “What did I do?” he repeated. The man sighed and took his glasses off. “Look, kid, I’m going to tell you here and now that you don’t want to know, I’ll let your parents tell you, if they want you to know.” This seemed to satisfy Dillon, and he relaxed a little. They sat there in silence, waiting for the other to make a move or say something, Dillon broke that silence. “So, when can I go home?” he asked. “I don’t know. I came in here to interrogate you, it’s my job, but I’m not that kind of cop. Do you want something to eat?” the ‘cop’s eyes looked sincere and Dillon nodded. “Whacha want, kid?” “Do you have a turkey sandwich?” The cop nodded and walked out, several minutes passed, then he walked back in with a small paper bag. He placed it in front of Dillon and motioned for him to have it. Dillon opened it and found two pieces of bread with a slim slice of… something in the middle. ----- The scene changed. Dillon, his father, and Sgt. Goodman were all back at the garage. “Are you sure the kid’s ready for something like this?” Goodman asked. “He caused it; he deserves to know what he did.” Dillon’s father said flatly. His father walked over to the door and opened it. He looked at Dillon expectantly. Dillon walked over to the door, right before the inside of the small room were about to be revealed Goodman grabbed Dillon’s shoulder and pulled him back. “What are you doing?” Dillon’s father asked the cop. “I don’t think this is wise, what will this do to his psyche?” he pulled Dillon a little farther back. “If he’s a man, he should survive.” Dillon’s father was a cold man; he had no intention of hiding the ugly world from Dillon. “But this could hurt him, he might not develop correctly. His mind is still young.” The two men had a staring match and when neither gave in Dillon spoke up. “I want to know what happened.” He said. They all exchanged glances, then Goodman let go of his shoulder and looked away. Dillon walked forward slowly; when he reached the door my ghostly body turned the corner around the door.