Transformers: The Cross

Chapter 4 - Business

     About twenty minutes into the drive, Sam was still awkwardly staring out the windshield. He hadn't spoken one word despite his promise, and the silence encouraged my thoughts to wander.

     Everything had happened so quickly, like I actually was in an action movie, so my natural response was mull over the past events. I was still having a hard time believing things; every memory was crystal clear, I still felt damp from the storm, the hollowness in my chest was there, even more intense than usual.

     Yeah, a quiet sigh was forced through my nose. I definitely am not dreaming. But why bring me here? Of all the....fantasy lands out there....here?

     I scowled. I probably did deserve this torture.

     "Hey, wait," Sam's voice suddenly bombarded. "You're not, like, mad at me for busting in on your business, right?"

     I shrugged. That was the last thing on my mind right now.

     "Yeah, okay. Good," he said, clearing his throat. "I mean good, 'cause I had a good reason. To bust in. While you were doin' your thing. At least you were done, I think. I don't know, I mean I didn't hear a flush."

     I shifted away from Sam, and leaned my head against the window.

     "Sure, don't talk now," I heard him mutter as he drummed his fingers against something, a nervous tap dance. I ignored him.

     But the one person I could not ignore was literally all around me: Bumblebee.

     He had been silent the whole time, driving himself smoothly along the road, but he never strayed far from my thoughts, like his name had been written with a mental sharpie, and the ink had bled into my consciousness.

     Every time I tried to trick myself into believing I was in a normal car, I was always reminded in some variation of blatancy in my mind like 'this is an alien robot,' or 'I'm literally inside Bumblebee.'

     I stared out the window and placed a hand on my seat, absently rubbing a thumb against the leather. Gradually, I became aware of a faint sensation thumping against my palm, just under the surface. My eyebrows dipped, and I pressed my ear into it.

     ....ba-boom, boom....ba-boom, boom....ba-boom, boom....

     It was like....a pulse. A heartbeat.

     Curiously, I applied more pressure, trying to feel the weird rhythm, but then Bumblebee suddenly veered left at a turn on the road. My hands latched onto the bottom of the leather seats as I was forced against the car door. The tires squealed as the Camaro skidded to a stop, dust clouds obscuring my view. I frowned.

     "Bee?" Sam asked, his teeth gnawing at his bottom lip. His eyes flitted, searching through his rain-stained window.

     The Camaro didn't answer; he was as quiet as he had been for the entirety of the drive, but I sensed tension.

     I slid back against my seat and slipped my hands back into my jacket pockets, throwing a glance at Sam, but he still had his face practically mushed against the glass. The teen turned around in the driver's seat, unsettled with the quietness. "Bee, where are we going?"

     Troubling static crackled through the radio before words finally came through. "You'll be home in time for dinner."

     Bumblebee reversed, and then plowed into the grassy terrain neighboring the asphalt. He drove until he came upon a straight dirt path, and followed it. Uncertainty crept down my neck as I stared at the passing scenery; it was evident that we wouldn't get answers until we got to our destination.