“What are you doing?” Ellie asks, eyes on the road. “What do you mean?” he asks, hand unmoved. “Drew, take your hand off me.” “Oh come on — you know you want to.” “No — I don’t." Ellie grabs his hand by the wrist, throwing it back across the console, eyes unmoved from the road. “Come on El, I thought we had an understanding here?” Drew says, slithering his hand back across the console, underneath the hem of Ellie's skirt. “I hired you for a reason.” “Get your hand off me, Drew.” He squeezes her thigh. Ellie shivers. Ringo’s LED text scrolls: “Accident risk — interior.” Drew’s seat back thrashes forward, slamming his head into the dashboard, his nose cracking against hardened plastic. He whips back with a groan, holding his hand to his nose, blood spurting down his chin. “What the fuck?” he groans. Ellie white-knuckles the steering wheel, feeling her pulse quicken, feeling that tingle of fear prickle the base of her skull, the same feeling she always felt around her father. Drew wipes blood off his palm. “Christ — what is wrong with you?” “It wasn’t …” “Pull the car over here.” Ellie hesitates, unsure what he’ll do if she stops. “I said pull over!” Drew leans over to grab the steering wheel, but his seatbelt snaps against his chest, fastening him to his seat. He strains against it, shouts, “Tell your fucking car to cut this out, El!” As he writhes, Ellie glances to see the seatbelt constricting around him, “Accident risk — interior” still written across Ringo’s screen. She takes her hand off the wheel and yanks at Drew’s seatbelt, jamming her thumb into the red button to free it. But the button won’t move, the buckle’s locked in. Drew cries out in pain as the belt fastens tighter, its zigzagging imprint burning into his skin. He finds his breath shallowing, the seatback and belt compressing his chest. “El,” he says through gasped air. “Tell it to stop — now.” “Ringo, cut it out!” she screams. The belt tightens. Ellie turns to Drew, seeing a glint of fear in his eyes, realizing he’s powerless, realizing they’re both powerless. The fear in her own mind is numbed by shock. That ringing returns to her ears, the tinnitus that makes reality seem distant, like she’s no more than a far away passenger to this story. Traffic rushes around them and she hears across a chasm of awareness Drew’s gasping breath beside her. Her eye twitches at a crack of bone, the seatbelt carving into Drew’s hips. She pulls away form him, averting her gaze, fingers tingling with numbness. She hears short, sharp gasps. Desperation. She feels absently a hand, cold fingers claw at her arm. She does not move. She lets the numbness still her. And then there is quiet. Only the hiss in her ears, and a colorful array of cars streaming around her. Ringo’s LED text reads: “Accident risk — resolved.” Through the hiss she hears Abbey Road turn to the next track: “The End.” Oh yeah, all right, Are you going to be in my dreams Tonight? BEST OF BIRDY 099 No. 133
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