>>5352637>>5352664>>5352678>>5352703You asked Mary to revive the engine and to continue tugging forward. Once the wheels spun, casting scraps of mud and grass in all the wrong directions, you pushed your weight onto the trunk and walked in place to keep your boots from sinking deeper. The tires clawed at the ungraspable soil, hurdling upward thanks to your push. The mustiness of the cab’s exhaust mired you and soon burned your nostrils with the smell of rot. You pushed the cab and rolled it in place; after several attempts, you let go and stepped back away from the cab before it crushed you.
Mary stepped out of the car and, after fidgeting with her dress, curtsied to look over the sunken wheels.
You opened the door near which Cass sat in a manner a gentleman should. With a twist of her head, the cryptid returned to eyeballing. Her puckered lips flapped as if she never stopped. She was quite the tittle-tattler; perhaps it was a good thing you could not understand a thing she said. You motioned your head outside the cab and then offered the alien your hand. She slithered across the leather seat to reach you. She sprang up, her buoyant head bouncing off the roof to let her feel fair pain. Her semi-human feet hit the trim and she plunged towards you.
Once fallen into your arms, Casspushed you down into the spindly shrubbery. Twice now you got balled up by her paranormal weight as if it was ethereal to the senses. Her weight was there, it was crushing you down, and yet to you, she felt as light as a child. The dress she wore proofed you from the gluey texture of her shape.
Almost. Her gelatinous face rubbed yours and so left trails of odourless secretion. You winced as her lips, gooey and cold, touched below your eye. All you could see was empty and white. Symbols resembling burnt-out images formed out of sweltering bubbles inside a familiar dream: a spinning mess after a night of drinking.
“At least the dress is clean,” Mary said sighing as you come to your senses.
You climbed out of the bushes once Cass shape-shifted her form and found her balance. One of the two good jackets you had was covered with green grime, shelled with thorns and bemired with swamp water; the same could be said of your pants. Perhaps there would be soap on sale somewhere today, you hoped.
You rubbed your cheek to barter Cass’s saliva for dirt. “I don’t know what you were trying to say,” you told Cass. Her eight-ball eyes jumped to follow to where your hands were as if she knew you wouldn’t. You motioned your hand to the wheels of the car, and then towards the road. You repeated the motion for Cass.
