Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers, Hasbro does. Credit for the lyrics used are found at the bottom of the page.
His car was back.
Sam peeked carefully over his windowsill, cell phone tight in one hand. His Camaro, a concept that hadn't even hit the markets yet, the one the government had given to replace old junker his dad had bought him and had gotten destroyed in Mission City, was sitting innocently in the extra parking spot next to the driveway.
His parents, the government, and, surprisingly, Mickaela Banes all claimed that he had, indeed, been in Mission City when it was destroyed. The government wrote it off as a major gas leak and his parents believed it. Mickaela, on the other hand, said that something bigger happened, but she couldn't tell him without her father being sent back to prison, courtesy of the Feds.
Sam couldn't remember any of it.
He ducked down quickly and opened his phone, fingers clumsy as they dialed the new number on his speed dial. He popped back up as soon as the first ring reached his ear and kept an eye on Satan's Camaro. The line rang a few times and Saw was about to give up and try Miles when Mickaela's sleepy voice sounded in his ear.
Sam crawled awkwardly into his bathroom and shut the door behind him before standing up. "Mickaela, my car is haunted!"
The girl on the other end yawned sleepily. "Sam? It's like…two in the morning. What's going on?"
"The Devil's taken over my Camaro."
"I left that Camaro, you know 'the replacement', over at the café. I left it in the parking lot last night and now it's sitting in my driveway."
Mickaela made a weird choking noise and Sam could hear her getting out of bed. "Are you sure your dad didn't go get it? You know how he is about cars."
"There are three things wrong with that theory. My dad doesn't know I left it, I got home after he went to sleep, and I have the only set of keys, Mickaela, the only set of keys."
"You probably dreamt that you left your car somewhere else, Sam."
"No, it wasn't a dream. I know that for certain. I have a huge bruise on my knee from tripping over the stupid curb outside the café. I never go to that café, Mickaela."
"What do you want me to do? You claim your car is possessed and you think I have any chance against it?" Something beeped on the other end of the line and Mickaela cursed. "Look, Sam, I gotta go. Just go back to sleep, okay? Your car isn't the devil."
"Oh, easy for you to say! You're not the one with Devil!Camaro sitting under his window. I-" Sam froze. He could hear the engine of the Camaro under question revving, almost as if it was trying to get his attention.
"Sam? What's going on, Sam?" Sam pulled the phone away from his ear, eyes distant as he strained to hear what was going on outside his bedroom window. The revving stopped, but he could catch the faint sound of an engine idling. Slowly, he closed his phone and pushed the bathroom door open, head peeking out carefully.
His room was same as always; cluttered to the point where it was almost impossible to move from one end to the other, but now one window was flooded with bright light. He set his phone on his desk and crept over to the window, ducking down when he came up to the sill. He peered around one of his curtains, eyes squinting in the light. Down below, his Camaro had its headlights on and focused on his room, something he knew cars couldn't do. Especially on their own. Its engine revved once and a soft honk echoed in his backyard when he poked his head out farther to get a better look. He jerked back inside, heart beating against his ribs like a demented drummer.
Sam stifled a yelp as the car honked at him again, a little louder this time. Without thinking he yanked the curtain back, stuck his head out the window, and hissed down at yellow menace below him. "Cut it out! If you wake my parents, you get to deal with them!" The Camaro dimmed its headlights (how was it doing that?) and inched forward like an eager puppy. Sam stared.
From the beginning he knew there was something wrong with the shiny new Camaro sitting outside his house. Not only because why would the government give him anything, but every time he went near it he had the feeling he was being watched. Then the little things started. The doors would unlock and open before he even got the keys out of his pocket (and this car was too new to have worn out parts), the radio would tune itself, and in the few weeks he'd owned it he hadn't had to fill the tank. Not once.
This was the first time he'd seen the car actively work on its own, though, and it was freaky to see a large yellow Camaro wiggling on the driveway like an overgrown version of Mojo. It flashed its brights rapidly, as if to say 'I know you're there. Come down and play!' Sam glanced around suspiciously, wondering if he was being pranked by that T.V. show, Pwned!
"Alright, very funny guys. You got me, now come on out, seriously. This isn't funny anymore." Sam was careful to say it quietly, but even so his voice echoed across the yard. He waited for the television crews to come out of the bushes and Asher Catchem to pop up from behind his Camaro laughing with Miles and Mickaela. Everything was quiet, only the sound of a dog barking down the street breaking the stillness of the late hour. Sam looked back down at his car and blinked. It had risen up on one side as if on hydraulics and was aiming its headlights at him again. To Sam it looked like a dog cocking its head to the side in confusion. "What, I had to make sure." The Camaro lowered back down and bounced its front end gently like it was laughing. Sam sent it a sour look and pulled back from the window. The car honked in distress and he leaned back out again. "What did I tell you about honking? Look, I'm just coming down there. It'll take, like, thirty seconds, Christ."
Sam shook his head as he left his room, pulling on a sweatshirt as he went. 'Why am I doing this? I'm probably going to get myself killed and my soul's going to get sucked up into that damn car and I'll have to spend the rest of eternity as a ghost-boy. I'm such an idiot.' He shoved his feet into his oversized shoes roughly, ignoring the uncomfortable feeling of the tongues being pushed down to his toes and carefully unlocked the back door and snuck outside. The Camaro was even more intimidating up close, especially when the headlights tracked his movements. The engine had cut out at some point and the silence was oppressive. Sam hesitated on the steps for a moment, foot suspended in midair. 'Am I really about to do this?' The car edged forward a foot, front wheels dangerously close to rolling off the front end of the concrete and resting on his dad's prized lawn. He hurried forward, arms waving.
"Watch the grass, watch the grass! If my dad sees any tires marks he'll ground me for the rest of my life and I'll have to help my mom with her flowers. You know how picky she is with those damn things? I'll be an old, decrepit man before she's satisfied! Back up!" The Camaro complied, inching backward about a foot. Sam stood on the path that bisected the backyard across from the obviously possessed vehicle, a small strip of grass separating them. The Camaro opened its driver's door invitingly, headlights flickering. Sam crossed his arms over his chest. "You really think I'll fall for that? I have parents that taught me not to talk to or take candy from strangers. I highly doubt they'd approve of me getting into a Camaro possessed by Satan." The teen jumped as the radio inside the car came to life in a burst of static. A mess of noises came from it as stations were scanned before settling on one.
"Trust in me, just trust in me…"
"The Jungle Book, seriously? Not the best choice. That snake couldn't be trusted. Try again, Christine."
The Camaro revved again and scanned the stations again. "Please believe I'm telling the truth…"
Sam chewed his bottom lip. "The truth, huh? Alright, you got a name then?"
"Yum yum Bumblebee, Bumblebee Tuna. I Love Bumblebee, Bumblebee Tuna. Yum yum, Bumblebee, Bumblebee Tuna. I love a sandwich made with Bumblebee…"
"Bumblebee? That's your name?" Sam eyed the paint job of the Camaro and decided it fit. "You know, I'm taking this way better than I think I should. I'm probably in shock right now and any minute I'm going to start laughing hysterically. Then my parents are going to wake up, see their son laughing like a loon and call the local Red Roof Inn. Won't they be proud I took after my great-great Grandpa Archie?"
"I'm going on the rails of a crazy train…"
"Yeah, that's what I'm afraid of."
Sam gripped the seatbelt across his chest tightly, white knuckled. He decided that if he was going crazy like his double-great Grand pappy, he was going to be spontaneous about it. No quietly-going-crazy for him. As the Camaro crested another steep hill and shot into the air over the other side, Sam wondered if maybe getting into the Devil!Camaro wasn't as spontaneous as it was absolutely idiotic.
"Holy Christ I'm gonna die!"
"Jerry was a race car driver and he drove so goddamned fast…"
The Camaro's shocks absorbed most of the jolt as it hit the road once more and its passenger barely felt a thing. Sam just whimpered and watched the scenery go by at eighty miles an hour.
Asher Catchem and Pwned! are parodies of Ashton Kutcher and his show Punk'd. There's also a Stephen King reference in there if anyone caught it.
Songs in order of appearance are: (Note: I've never actually listened to most of them, I just used the lyrics.)
Python's Song from the Jungle Book Soundtrack
Leaving Tonight by Neyo feat. Jennifer Hudson
The Bumblebee Tuna Song by Mephiskapheles
Crazy Train by Ozzy Ozbourne
Jerry Was a Racecar Driver by Primus (This one made me smile when I found it.)
Yeah…for those of you waiting for updates on my other stories, it'll be a while. Tranformers!bunnies have bitten me and I have to write them first before they'll let my brain go. Lots of bunnies.
Con-crit is welcomed wholeheartedly. I'm really new to the transformers fandom and anything can be helpful. Even 'You suck, n00b. Quit!' …sort of.