The rhythmic whoosh of orange pylons passing by like shining, violently-orange soldiers, glimmering with white reflective insignia stripes, reminded him of the cyclical, low tones a vacuum in a car makes with terrible aerodynamics when a window is open just right, or wrong. He decided that, along with the constant white noise of rubber against an India ink pavement, this particular set of sounds could be relatively calming in less pressing circumstances. A corresponding mental note, feebly trying to scratch into his available subconscious, tore asunder as a bare-skin knuckle, flailing on the end of an unwilling rag doll arm, hit the terrifying belt-sander earth beneath him and tore all the same.
Meaningless was the flesh lost to that square inch of some po’dunk highway, wherever he was. Equally meaningless was the pain that particular square inch brought to him as it drown in flash flood of endorphins already coursing in his veins. The same veins that pulsed rhythmically under taunt skin as he grasped desperately at the collar of his assailant. Tendon-like seams, giving in to an undefined stress, added their gentle pops to an overly noisy world.
The rushes of rage synchronized with accelerating pulse beat rhythm that echoed in his ears as more and more blood ran to his head. His captor shook him vigorously with the non-driving hand. He could feel the mixture of feelings from the driver’s quick glances to and fro: the predator’s thrill as it looked into the fearful eyes of its prey; the panic of not driving too terribly safe.
A flailing appendage, maybe a foot, caught purchase with the previously sculpted jawline of the driver as he looked up for an unusually sharp right turn. With inertia on his side, the captive prey, abdominal muscles burning and begging for release, lunged forward enough to grip the conveniently placed leather handle and brought his left knee to his chest. Another mental note scribbled into the recesses of a busy mind: he preferred cars with these handles, and leather interior isn’t so bad.
As the reaper’s slender fingers let go of their precarious hold on him, he let such previous fears swallow his being. Death slithered down an outstretched denim leg and wrapped itself around a new prey stuck between a rock and a sharp place.
To be continued..?
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