Fantasy

3

Departing Jenna's office, I follow Randy back through the control room. I assume we're going back to the stairs and out the hatch, until he stops to the right of the staircase and opens a door along the wall. He holds it as I walk in ahead of him to find an underground garage. The place is huge and crowded with all models of cars imaginable. Randy leads me to the center of the room where his Camaro sits parked on a circle of floor that is covered in...grass? In fact, it's the same type of grass that was growing in the field he parked in earlier. Seemingly oblivious to the strange carpet he opens the passenger door and slides the seat forward for the second time today. This time I get in on my own accord.

He shuts the door and walks to the other side of the car where he gets behind the wheel and starts the engine. He looks back at me and smiles. "Ya' ready to see something cool?" I raise an eyebrow. Randy and I seem to have two totally different opinions of the definition of cool. He presses the touchscreen on the console of the car a couple times and I hear a sound like gears turning. I peek out the window to see that the grassy circle of floor we're parked on is rising upward on a large metal column while above us a hole is opening in the ceiling. Sunlight streams down as we reach the top and the camouflage disc clicks into place creating the illusion of a seamless ground. We're now back in the field with the metal hatch entrance to the stairs only a few yards away.

"Why didn't we just use this entrance in the first place?" I wonder, remembering when I had slipped on the stairs.

"You can only open it from the inside."

As we're traveling through the vegetation and coming up on the road I decide to speak up again."Will you please stay within the speed limit this time?"

"Why? I'm a great stunt driver," he complains.

"I know, that was a pretty impressive trick you pulled off, sliding into traffic, but please don't do stuff like that with me in the car," I plead.

"Aw, you're no fun, but alright, I'll drive like an old granny for your sake," he says, but when he turns onto the road he slows down to about six miles per hour.

"Not that slow, the speed limit's-," I start, but Randy turns the radio to a pop/rock station and cranks it as loud as it will go. "-fifteen miles per hour!" I shout, trying to be heard over the music.

"What? Did you say the speed limit's fifty miles per hour?" he yells back, accelerating. I buckle my seatbelt and brace myself for the loud and reckless ride. This is still better than being in the car with an angry parent, though.

When we reach my house I gladly get out of the car with my ears ringing. That must have caused some permanent hearing loss. I shake my head and glare at Randy, who finally turns the music off.

"What? Don't you like that song?"

"Eh, I prefer country music and drivers who stay below two-hundred miles an hour!" I explode, surprising myself, but I'm really annoyed.

"I was below two hundred miles per hour." Whatever, I'll let that slide.

"Um and why did you have to drive when you have your extra power? Obviously you've met my sisters at least."

"Well, for starters, I'd freak everyone out if I just materialized in your house, second, I can only travel solo, no passengers, sorry."

"Whatever," I conclude, walking toward the front door, but Randy doesn't leave right away. "You're not going to stick around, are you?" I check, even though it's a little rude.

"Maybe I will, why? Are you kicking me out?"

"...I...Look, that was rude, I'm sorry, that's not like me," I admit. In response Randy smiles and shakes his head,