The Retribution Initiative

The Silence Roared

-Lucas-

The car was old. So old. Somewhere beneath my panic, I found myself noticing the boxy body sitting squatly on heavy tires. The ceiling was yellow carpet. The word "Soul" scrawled in messy letters across the dashboard. Despite myself, I wrinkled my nose at the car. It was nothing like the sleek highway cruisers we had now. What on earth were designers thinking back then?

The inside smelled like something foul had cakily dried into the carpeted floor. The stench wafted sourly across my nostrils. I tried to hold my breath. I sat in the captain's seat, praying it didn't require a passcode to start. I tapped the display screen, which flickered to life after a moment of hesitation. No password screen. I breathed a sigh of relief and pressed my thumb into the ignition button. A cloud of dust drifted into the air. The engine was silent. I pressed the button again. Nothing. I tried a different angle, then a press-and-hold. My lungs were tight, constricting with panic. Was this ugly car mocking me? I stared desperately through the grime-covered windshield. Just start already! I slapped the dashboard, then jabbed the button for a fifth time.

The car roared to life, jerking like a violent hiccup. I could have cried in relief. I didn't, though, because I was moving. More accurately, the car was moving. Inch by inch, it was rolling forward. I seized the steering grips and tried to press down on the footbrake. It was rigid under my boot. The car kept rolling, creeping towards the daylight like a bear might emerge from hibernation. At least, it's what I imagined a bear might do. I stomped my foot into the brake, trying to loosen it up. It only gave a little. The garage door was getting dangerously close to the snubbed nose of my vehicle, and we were picking up speed. I rose up in my seat and stomped the brake again, and then again. It was too late.

With a crash, the car hit the garage door. The door resisted my car's exit, but the vehicle was determined. It grumbled sleepily, pressing into the thin metal bars of the garage door. The bars shrieked, bent, and then snapped. Steadily, the car kept pushing through. A hideous metallic squeal pierced my eardrums as the snapped metal bars scraped off the ugly orange paint on the sides of the car. I threw my hands over my ears. It was like the garage was screaming, furious at my car's escape. I stomped on the brake again. It gave a little more. As my vehicle inched its way through the broken garage door, I bounced up and down in the seat, pounding on the brake.
Finally, just as the car was inching into the street, the seized-up brake released. The car stopped. My ears were ringing. I dusted off the rearview mirror and caught a glimpse of the busted garage door. It was completely obliterated. A car-shaped hole now gaped through the slats.

Whoops.

My post-hibernation vehicle rumbled into the street. Now that the brake was working smoothly, the car drove pretty decently. Sure, the steering grips were a little stiff and the screen flickered on occasion, but it was driveable. It was easier than the Primo-Max, at least. The familiarity of driving helped to settle my nerves a little. This was better. At least now I wasn't out in the open. I cruised down several streets, hoping the lunchtime crowds weren't paying attention to the vintage orange car with giant scratches on the sides. Surely their meals were more important, right?

As I got closer to the hub of the city, traffic grew thicker. My knee bounced, trying to dispel some of the anxiousness that was bubbling in my stomach again. I just needed to get to the highway. Once I got on that ascension ramp, I was home free. The highway circled the entire island, with countless offshoots into tons of smaller cities and towns. All I'd need to do was pick a nondescript little town and hide out for a few days until this all blew over. I'm sure the Endars would soon forget about one measly little Cretian draftee.

Hopefully.

My eyes flicked to the rearview mirror, brushing over the lines of traffic stretching out behind me. Then they stopped. I immediately wished I hadn't looked. In the shadow of a megatower, I caught movement. There, floating above the slow-moving city traffic, were multiple Endar Guard drones. The neon lights of electronic advertisement boards shone against their metallic limbs. Doubt pushed its way into my mind. What if I was just being paranoid? Package delivery drones flew above the streets all the time. It was lunchtime, after all. My eyes were glued to the mirror. The drones wove between swathes of electrical wires. Their limbs were much longer than delivery drones. They almost resembled insects. There was no way they were normal drones. Only Endar technology could make a simple drone look so terrifying. My stomach twisted. Beneath the menacing limbs, I finally saw them. The drones had guns.