Well, I was kind of expecting it to happen. One day I entered my car, and the engine refused to start. The poor thing was twenty-years old, and I used it almost everyday. I don’t even know how it lasted so long. I called my mechanic, and he said: “It’s dead, bro. Let it go.” So, I took my car to the scrapyard and said goodbye to it. It was time to find my new best friend.

I went to several car dealerships, and looked at several opportunities, though I prioritized second-hand cars, because they were cheaper and often in perfect state. Then I found a miracle. A perfect sedan, automatic transmission, black, year 2022, with less than 500 miles of use. When I asked for the price, they told me it was only about 10k. That’s a third of the usual price for this type of car. When I asked why the car was so cheap, the dealers evaded my question. They just said a NDA had been signed when they bought the car, but it appeared to involve a divorce or something. Well, I couldn’t pass the opportunity. I reached out to my bank, took a loan, signed some papers, and voila, I had a new car, man’s best friend. For some reason I had to sign a NDA too, but since I’m writing this, I don’t care at all about my NDA.

Things were absolutely great for some time. I drove around and… I think that’s basically all you can do with a car, but I drove around a lot. I travelled to other cities and states, showed my car to my friends and family, went to parks and beaches, went to a drive-in…

After a month or two, something strange started happening. The fuel tank was never running out of gasoline. I didn’t understand what was happening, but of course, I wasn’t complaining. Never paying for more fuel? That’s a dream come true!

But that wasn’t the end of it. The car started making strange noises when I started the engine. Instead of hearing the fuel being burned, I heard what appeared to be… Gastric noises. Sometimes even mastication. Maybe I should have verified, but I didn’t. I thought it could be a new technology.

Then things got worse. A series of thefts started around my neighborhood. At the beginning, it was bicycles. All bicycles left outside garages or houses, even the chained ones, were disappearing. I didn’t know how to ride a bike, so I didn’t care much for it. After people stopped leaving their bicycles exposed, it was the time for motorcycles. Motorcycles were disappearing left and right. When enough of them had disappeared that people didn’t leave them outside their garages anymore, the disappearances moved to the next logical step. Cars parked outside garages also began disappearing.

I had a lot of work installing cameras all around the neighborhood, as people were getting worried. Yes, that’s my job, I work with security, installing electrical fences, cameras, alarms, among other things. It’s ironic, because my own house ended up becoming the only place without a surveillance system in the entire street.

I wasn’t the only one having to work. The local police were also trying to catch the thieves, but they never leaved any traces. The cars were never taken to scrapyards, they were never taken to any depots or garages, nor parking lots. They spent weeks going to every possible place a car could be scrapped or hid, but it was fruitless. The cars were never taken out of the city too, as they always had an officer monitoring the exit of the town, and none of them ever saw any stolen car. Ten cars, twelve motorcycles and eight bicycles vanished out of thin air over the course of three months.

Being pressured by the entire city yet unable to solve the crimes, the police offered good money to anyone who had any lead relating to the case. I installed some cameras in public places, with authorization of the town hall after the car of one of the city councilors disappeared, and began monitoring. Also, I stopped being lazy, and finally installed cameras on my own house.

And surprisingly, the thefts stopped. Cars, motorcycles and bikes were no longer disappearing. That lasted for almost two weeks. Surprisingly, for the first time in a long time, my fuel started running low, so I had to stop at gas stations to refuel once again. But it seemed like the car didn’t like gasoline anymore. Every time I refueled, the car would make strange noises, and sometimes would spit some of the gasoline back after I removed the pump.

Not long after, one day I woke up only to find my car gone. It was a bummer losing my car, of course, but on the plus side, this meant there would be footage of the thieves. And footage of the thieves meant money. I hurried to my computer and accessed the recordings. But the video didn’t show any thieves. It showed, circa three in the morning, the car turning on it’s lights and engine by itself. The car hood opened, and a long, slender arm with inhumanly long fingers presses the button that opens the garage door. Then my vehicle leaves and the garage door closes.

I stared at the screen for hours, bewildered, unable to process what I had seen. No, my mind refused to believe it. Did they hack the cameras to steal the car? But how would they do that? The device is not connected to the Internet. It couldn’t be. Yet it was. But if I brought that video to the police station, they would think I was messing with them.

Suddenly, I heard the garage door opening. I ran towards the garage, and my car was there, like it was pretending it was always there. And I decided to accept this false reality out of fear of what happened. I deleted the footage, and said: “This is not real. My car never left this garage.” The next day, the local news website talked about how a mother and two of her children disappeared, along with her car, when she was coming back from picking up her kids at school. In the depths of my mind I began connecting the dots, but my mind refused to accept that reality.

One week later, I woke up with the sound of my car leaving by itself. I ignored it, I needed to believe the car was still there. It was probably a coincidence, a neighbor parked a car nearby my house and now was leaving. Yes, a coincidence and that’s all. And the next day, a child had disappeared while riding her bike, leaving no traces.

It kept happening, initially once per week. The car left, I lied to myself that it didn’t, it came back. Someone in a vehicle disappeared. I convinced myself it was a coincidence. Then, it started happening twice per week, then thrice. It got to the point that every other night the car left. On lucky days, a parked vehicle disappeared. On bad days, an entire family in a car did.

One day, it went way too far. A police cruiser with two cops disappeared… Now, the police got really interested in the case. They demanded footage of all the cameras I had installed around the city. I drove my car to the police station (Even if driving it kind of terrified me now), parked in front of the building, entered the station and gave them a copy of the device in which the recordings were stored. When I was almost entering my car to go back home, they called me urgently back inside.

The chief of police showed me the recordings, he was furious, thinking it was a joke. He even threatened to arrest me for wasting their time. The footage showed the police car driving until suddenly a black sedan approaches it from behind. The car hood opens, exhibiting several teeth, slender arms and tendrils. These things grab the police cruiser from behind, and brutally smash it until it as ball of metal, glass and human flesh. All pieces that fall from the destroyed car are picked up by the tendrils. Then, my car was rapidly chewing the gruesome ball with it’s teeth, until nothing was left. Then it simply leaves.

One of the officers then asked me: “Wait, isn’t that your car?” And with an extremely uncomfortable smile I answered: “Yes…?”.

Before I knew, I was outside the station with five police officers, all of us looking at my car. Everyone knew something needed to be done, but no one dared to do anything. No one even knew what to do. Seriously, what was anyone supposed to do? Arrest the car? Shoot it? Dismantle it?

After almost two minutes of uneasiness, the police chief stepped forwards. He said “Fine, I’ll open the damn thing.” He went to the car hood, sweating, and opened.

We all saw there were no engine, no cables, mechanical pieces or anything. The interior of the car was full of entrails, bloated veins, tendrils, pale arms, eyes, teeth, strange liquids and horrible pustules.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” The police chief stepped backwards, shocked. In less than a second, several tendrils came out of the car and started twisting him. The other officers grabbed their guns and started shooting. The car, in response, spitted a very strong acid at them, and as their faces and skins began to melt, used it’s arms and tendrils to grab them and twist them into small balls of flesh as well.

After three cops were down, I ran away as fast as I could, hearing the agonizing screams. I entered my house, my shirt covered in sweat and even some blood, and I hid myself in the bathroom. A couple of hours later, I heard the garage door opening, and my car entering.

What do I do now? Do I apologize to it? Do I try to run away? Do I take it to the scrapyard or try to sell it? Seriously, is there any way to fix this car??

///