“TALK,” I SAID, SHUTTING my door, settling in. “Starting with why you encouraged me to unbury the car—when you knew full well what could happen.” I glanced at her in the dark. “And you must have known.”
“I knew that their spirits—which are fused with the car, as is mine—would attempt to influence you, yes. What I did not know is the extent to which they’d succeed, how easily you’d succumb!” She seemed to shift gears: “It’s not important. What is important is that the car gets reburied—deeper, further away. So that it may never threaten the surface again.”
“But, what is it ... and who are they? Who are you, for that matter?”
“The car? Why, it’s a spacecraft, of course. A time-craft. It has been matter-cloaked to mimic an automobile, that’s all—of a make and model that was popular in the
