The Speeding Hearse

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Action and Adventure  |  House: Booksie Classic
How would you react if you woke up in a speeding hearse, in a coffin, and the drivers stole said hearse and 1 million dollars- just to find out that the hearse was originally on its way to YOUR funeral? Meet Britt Sands. That is her life..or after-life, this whole "dead but not dead" thing is sort of confusing.

Submitted: February 18, 2015

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Submitted: February 18, 2015

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I opened my eyes and sluggishly groaned. I could hear incoherent murmurings, but I saw nothing. I start to panic, thinking that for sure I had gone blind. I started to thrash about, trying to move. Nothing.

At first I thought that I was most definitely in a coma or paralyzed or something, but then I realized I was surrounded by wood and I was under a cushion. I heard a voice say something along the lines of, “Oh crap, we’ve raised the dead. Could this day get any worse?”
I shouted, “Someone let me out of wherever I am!”
Then I waited. I waited for who-knows-how-long, listening to two men argue over if they should or shouldn’t. Impatiently, I shoved the wooden plank-thing above my face upwards with all my might. The world hit my apparently not blind eyes so suddenly I had to squint, but when things started settling I found myself to be in a car. Next to me was a coffin of similar design to the coffin I was sitting so calmly in, and in shot-gun was a gob-smacked individual with sleek blonde hair and grey eyes. He seemed about my age, so I waved hello. “What am I doing in…”I put the clues together in my head quickly. “…In a hearse?!”
He shook the driver’s shoulder, and I managed a brief look at said driver’s face as he quickly spun his head around just long enough to catch a glimpse of me. He had a faded blue hat with curly brown-grey hair puffing out the bottom and a yellow windbreaker. “Oh God, we’ve raised the dead.”

I looked at them in confusion. “Dead? I’m not dead, if it’s not so brainlessly obvious.” I adjusted myself, and found myself in a white dress- something I would never wear in all my life. “Am I?”

“I think this hearse belongs to…Brittany Sands. That you?”
I glared at the guy in shot-gun. “It’s Britt. People call me Britt.”

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, whatever. Why don’t you just go back into your coffin and go back to being dead while me and my dad figure this out?” He clutched his seatbelt as the car took a fast and sharp turn to the right.

“Why are we going so fast,” I exclaimed.

“We’re speeding,” said the boy.

“I’m only going fifty miles over the speed limit,” the man said in his defense. “That’s nothing to get too fussy about, right?”
I gave him an awkward look, and reintroduced myself. “I’m Britt Sands. What should I call you and the speeder?”
“My name’s Wilson,” said the boy. “The ‘speeder’ is my dad Jack. Mind telling me why you’re not dead?”
“I was never dead to begin with,” I insisted. “I don’t remember dying, and if I was dead I would still be dead now. Could you tell ME what’s going on and why I’m in a hearse- a speeding hearse?”
Wilson sighed. “Well…I can tell you that this hearse might have been borrowed by me and my dad while you were in it.  I can tell you we have three cop cars tailing us. I can also tell you that in the coffin next to you is a million in cash. But keep in mind that it’s all ransom money we couldn’t pay off ourselves.”

“Ransom,” I asked weakly.

Almost teary-eyed, he handed me a dusty photo that was lying harmlessly on the dashboard. It was a picture of a girl with two brown-coloured braids with blonde streaks. She had panda earrings and a golden heart-shaped locket. She wore a white and black tessellated jacket. Her eyes were closed and her grin was wide on her face- creating cute dimples- as she happily hugged a tree in what seemed to be a forest on a sunny day. “Her name’s Cameron. She’s only ten years old, and yet they still took her. They kidnapped her and said we needed to pay the million-buck ransom in forty-eight hours or else they’ll kill her.”
I pursed my lips and sadly handed the photo back to him. “I’m so…so sorry. Is that why you’re speeding?”
“Yes and no,” Jack replied a bit too loudly. “Yes we have twenty minutes to reach the rendezvous point, but it’s also because this car was reportedly stolen and because the million bucks in that coffin next to ya were also stolen.”

I felt a little uneasy being with them now.

“Couldja tell us how you died? For the sake of starting a conversation.”
“I feel like I’m being pranked.”

“Sorry, no pranks here. I wish this was all a bad dream or a terribly joke too,” Wilson said with an expressionless, perhaps dazed look.

I thought back to my most recent memories. I winced, as the full brunt of the reality shot through my veins. I remembered it all. I remembered dying. “I hope this is a nightmare, but nightmares are never this real and detailed.”

“Maybe they are,” Wilson contradicted. “But our perception and memories of the nightmare or dream are distorted to say the least. Maybe our view of reality in GENERAL is distorted, and we all live thoughtlessly in this mind-palace we conjured from our collective imagination.”
Jack flicked him. “Stop being such a smart-aleck.”

I smiled. “You like philosophy? I think we’ll get along just fine.”

He beamed back at me, and then restated his question. “How did you die?”
I saw myself in Jack’s rear-view mirror. I had dark skin and dark brown eyes. My hair was also dark brown with white-blonde highlights reaching my hip. I had stitches and bruises all over my body. I remembered it all so vividly, in so much detail. It stained itself in the backs of my retinas as I reluctantly said in a flat tone, “I was murdered.”

I saw a spark of excitement flicker in Wilson’s eyes. “Who killed you?”
I didn’t want to remember any more, but I answered him anyways. “My sister’s boyfriend did.”

“Why?”
“He was angry.”
“But WHY was he angry?”
“He came home in a really bad mood- he lives with us, mind you- and I tried talking to him and he lashed out at me. He didn’t mean to…do all those things to me…cos he’s a really nice guy, but it could have honestly happened to anyone at any time.”

I tried to shrug it off, but I couldn’t shake Wilson’s piercing glare as he continued to stare at me with what I perceived to be a variety of mixed feelings.

I looked away, and he looked away.

The car took another sharp turn, and I felt like yelling at Jack. I think I did. “Can you slow down?!”
“Yeah, dad,” Wilson agreed. “Can’t we just talk to the police about this?”
“And lose Cameron? How do you think the police would react to all that we’ve done so far?”

I nodded. “Mr. Jack DOES have a good point. Still, I’m curious as to how they would react to finding out you guys stole a hearse with a dead body already in it AND a million bucks.”
With a stiff voice Jack shouted, “I’d like to see how they react when they find out YOU’RE the dead body!”
I shrunk down a bit.

All was annoyingly silent and the air was tense. Jack and Wilson both had determined looks on their faces, looking at the road ahead with unidentifiable expressions.

I was lost in my own mind-palace of thoughts. Am I really dead? And how can I be NOT dead now? And what’s even going on? Was Danny arrested? How long was I dead?

Before I could answer any questions I had asked myself, he took another turn and slowed down. “Alright, we’re gonna have to run. Leave the car, but take the money. We need this to work,” Jack exclaimed.

Wilson obeyed. I just sat there motionless and watched as they moved about, getting everything situated. “Couldja help us out over here, Britt,” Wilson suggested.

I nodded, and rose out of my coffin. I’m not for certain but I think they were further discomforted by seeing the dead literally rising. I jumped out through the back and carried three bags of the money over my back. I felt like a criminal Santa Claus.

My legs were a little shaky, and they started to itch as the tall grass whisked over my bare legs. My feet felt gross as they squished into the mud. It apparently had been raining, but now it was a clear and starry night.

In the middle of this huge field was a brick house, probably abandoned. Jack kicked down the door, and in the far corner of the vast living room was a terrified girl.

Rivers of salty water coming from her golden-brown eyes. Ugly brown tape covered her mouth, and plastic zip-ties bound her ankles and wrists together as she lay on her side.

Jack quickly cut the zip-ties, while Wilson and I looked for the dealer to pay the ransom to.

He (or perhaps it was a she) was nowhere, even after we checked the bedrooms, kitchen, attic, and yes- the bathroom.

The last place to look was the basement.

I trailed closely behind Wilson, and as he walked I could tell he had that “trying-to-be-brave-but-I’m-freaking-out” attitude.

It was perfectly square, with concrete walls and floor. The room was entirely empty, accept for two things:

  • The smell of musty wine and gunpowder with an overpowering aroma of dust
  • A square box with wires and a countdown clock on it

My heart sunk, if I even HAD a heart that could sink anymore (this whole “dead but not dead” thing is sort of confusing) and I’m pretty sure Wilson’s did too.

It was a bomb.  


© Copyright 2020 DJcyan. All rights reserved.

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