Dune Buggy Debutantes
“Oh my God!” Veronica gasped, her hand over her mouth.
She watched in horror as, down on the street, the silver dune buggy sped out of the garage and began chasing down Marcus Joiner. The running back was fast, but not faster than the 2216cc VW motor that propelled the driver-less buggy down the rain-slicked blacktop. The steel bumper caught Marcus behind the legs and Veronica heard his kneecap crack even though she was a block away and on top of a two story building.
“That bitch got herself a possessed dune buggy!” Veronica shouted, stamping her foot in rage. “And that loser Marcus can't even get it together enough to put sugar in its goddamn gas tank!”
“Well, he won't be making that mistake twice,” Regina said, pointing down at the street. The Excalibur had stopped and was revving its engine while Marcus feebly tried to crawl away down the street. The girls could see he was crying and begging the dune buggy for his life. “What a crybaby.”
The dune buggy, tires squealing and smoking, peeled off down the street and rocketed at the wounded football player. Veronica turned away in disgust but heard the dull, wet thud of the front tire connecting with his head.
“That's just great,” she sighed. “Now it’s probably going to hunt us down and kill us one by one. Lenore is so predictable.”
“I don't know,” Glinda said, her eyes riveted to the scene below. “It’s like we were trying to pull a Carrie on her and she countered with a Christine. And it’s not like we were being original ourselves. You even got your boyfriend to ask her to the prom and I know you were looking to buy some pig blood on the internet.”
“Christ, Glinda, you are such a nerd,” Regina scoffed. “You should go join those losers in the A/V club and help them de-scramble cable porn.”
“Shut up, whore.”
“Both of you shut up,” Veronica hissed. “I'm trying to think.”
Down below, Biff Addelson was trying to sneak out of the garage. His neck was bloody and he was walking with a pronounced limp. Trying to move quietly, his fear-filled eyes were riveted to the dune buggy that was roaring back and forth over his friend's body. He didn't see the metal trash can until he was already knocking it over.
“That's it,” Veronica said, snapping her fingers. “I'm calling Daddy.”
“That's your solution to everything,” Regina said, bored.
Veronica walked to the back of the roof, away from sound of The Excalibur chasing a screaming Biff down the street, and dialed her phone. Regina and Glinda, watching the hapless quarterback stumble just as the buggy caught up with him, heard the familiar cadence of their friend pleading with her father. Flatter, whine, bitch, threaten, cry, plead, threaten again, sniffle, “thank you, Daddy”, hang up.
“That should shake things up a bit,” Veronica said, a smug grin on her face.
Two hours later, out in the darkness of the desert, a helicopter could be heard approaching. It was painted a flat, non-reflective black and no running lights signaled its approach. It was virtually invisible against the night sky. Dangling from a chain attached to its undercarriage was an equally dark capsule, twelve feet long and four feet wide. Like a coffin built for a giant.
The helicopter hovered for a moment and released the capsule, it feel gracelessly to the desert floor below and buried itself in a dune. The helicopter was already headed back the way it came as the lid of the capsule was violently kicked open from within. A humanoid shape rose out of it and surveyed the landscape. Noting the lights of the distant town, the figure began to run with astonishing speed toward it.
Murdertron began his hunt.