Weird Thoughts

Setback - Part 2

His rapid breathing echoed over the abandoned street. It was flanked by identical houses on one side of the road, lights out in every window. On the other side, there was a stretch of inky barren countryside. Nothing hinted at his location. He could've been on the other side of the country. Ringing doorbells didn't seem like a good idea, people probably wouldn't respond warmly to such a situation.

The best option, he thought, was to first continue walking. Every step away from that woman's house was a step towards safety. His face itched. Touching it revealed he'd grown a beard. The device must've skipped weeks. Perhaps he was already twenty at this point. As he trudged along endless rows of duplicate houses, Guy's toes went numb. Asphalt and the occasional pebble scraped the soles of his feet.

A noise alerted him. It came from behind, movement on the road. Someone was in pursuit. Guy turned. There was a car in the middle of the road. It was a cobalt convertible, which he might've found slick under different circumstances. Headlights were dimmed and windows were darkened. No engine rumbled.

The young man took a few steps towards it, peering through the blackness. Headlights ignited and burned into him. He had to use a hand to shield his face. His first instinct was to run again, but the car would catch up in no time. Dashing off road might've been an idea, yet Guy thought better of it. Heading into pitch black countryside was even more risky. Instead, he stood where he was, trying to get a bead on the driver. Apart from the lights the vehicle was static.

Is it that lady? he thought.

Confusion turned to anger, boiling inside him. If she wanted to pursue him, he at least would make it difficult for her. 

Guy approached the car and slammed both fists onto the hood. "Stop following me!"

Silence at first. He might as well have yelled at the defiled statue in the park.

A voice responded, "Shall I hold?"

Guy straightened. "Just leave me alone."

Headlights dimmed, leaving the young man in the dark. The driver's seat door opened. Guy expected someone to step out, but nobody did. Thinking he had no other options, he slowly approached the car. It was empty.

"Who's there?" He asked nobody in particular.

"I'm model Clifford Type 4, sir."

The realization hit him; it was the car talking. The voice came from its speakers. Guy knew about this; his father talked to his wheels when using GPS or asking how the weather would be. Yet he'd never seen one talk back like this. Must've been a new model.

"Who told you to follow me?"

"You did, sir. You left me in follow mode after our last drive."

"How?"

Guy flinched when something went beep-beep in his pocket, piercing through the night. He found a small object. At first, he thought it was Ralph's remote, but quickly discovered it was something else. It was metallic black and shaped like a computer mouse, only smaller. He'd never seen this type of car key before. Now he could add grand theft auto to the list of crimes he'd committed today. As fright was done coursing through his veins, the young man realized how cold he was.

What the hell, he eventually thought, now that I've accidentally stolen this thing, might as well warm up. 

Getting in, he was struck by the car's minimalist dashboard. It was nearly devoid of buttons. He gathered it must've been largely voice controlled. As he settled, warmth returning to his bones, he wondered what state he must be in. He touched his hairy face again, dreading the answer. Guy's insides froze as he looked in the rearview mirror. At first, he didn't recognize the lined face, receding hairline and thick beard.