Chrissie The Next Generation

Chrissie - The Next Generation

© 2024 by Jalibar62

This is an unworthy attempt at a sequel to

stangstar06's

"

Chrissie

". You might want to read that one first, although I'll try to fill in some backstory. I didn't make any attempt to mimic SS06's style; I'm not that good a writer.

I promise, I did have an idea when I started, but as usual, the story went in a... direction... that I didn't anticipate, hence the category. Blame my fucked-up subconscious. I hope you enjoy the ride.

Submitted with permission.

~@@@@~

Where do I even start? I'd say at the beginning, but even I don't know exactly when that was. Maybe when Chrissie joined our family. Hmm. I guess that makes the most sense.

Okay. So, this is what Dad told me. Chrissie started life as a 2006 Mustang GT. I guess she still is, technically, but... she's a whole helluva lot more than that. Anyway, when Dad bought her, the dealer add-ons included a shaker hood system and Flowmaster chrome dual exhaust. The car was Screaming Yellow with black racing stripes. She was visible (and audible) from a

long

way off.

Dad said that the visit to the dealership was a surreal experience. To start with, the car was locked, and the salesman couldn't find the keys. But as soon as Dad put his hand on the door handle, it opened for him. He sat in it while the salesman searched for the keys, but by the time he finally found them, Dad had already decided to buy the car. He didn't even need to test drive it; he just knew it was the car for him.

He said the salesman seemed almost relieved to have it off the lot.

Now this next part, Dad

didn't

tell me. I pieced it together from whispers and comments I overheard over the years, and then I finally cornered Mom and made her tell me the rest. Well, I didn't make her; no one

made

Mom do anything, but I kept bugging her until she finally relented.

She told me that on the very day he bought the car, when he got home from the dealership, Dad saw some guy sneaking out of his house. I didn't know he'd been married once before Mom, but he was, and she cheated on him. Mom skipped most of those details, but told me that there was a big confrontation later and Dad beat the guy up, but then the asshole came back and threatened to kill Dad, and somehow or other both the guy and Dad's first wife wound up dead. Somehow crushed by Dad's new car.

Dad had discovered - well, he had been told - that his ex and her lover had been responsible for the death of his college sweetheart and their unborn child. The news broke him for a while, but somehow, driving the car - even just sitting in the driver's seat - made him feel better, and strangely less sad about Sarah. That was his sweetheart's name. And as completely insane as it sounds, Dad eventually came to believe that Sarah found a way to come back, and was waiting for him at that dealership, knowing that she would need to be there for him, and she saved him that day. Sarah - or her spirit, her ghost, soul, or whatever you want to call it - had

inhabited

the car, and waited. Waited for him to need her.

The cops called it an accident. They didn't find anything wrong with the car, and one of the deputies had actually been in the driver's seat when one of the 'incidents' happened. How it 'accidentally' rolled

up

the driveway, no one wanted to even try to explain. But they did insist on taking it to their 'lab' (hah) so they could check the car over.

When the cops brought the car back, Dad was scared that he was next. But instead of being mashed, he swears that the car rolled up to him and rubbed against his leg like a gigantic puppy.

And that's when he started calling her 'Christine', after the Stephen King story. But after a while, as he got to trust her, she became 'Chrissie'. Even after Dad came to believe that it was Sarah inhabiting the car, he still called her Chrissie. Mom originally thought she was named after some girl in an old TV show, but...yeah, no.

He made a few modifications to her, like matching custom chrome bar billet grills, a front chin spoiler to increase aerodynamics and add extra cooling to the engine, a rear diffuser and rear blackout panels, and extra-large calipers painted yellow to match the body paint. When it came to engine mods though, Chrissie seemed to know what she wanted. Dad would explain to her what he wanted to try, and either the hood would pop or it wouldn't, and he'd have his answer.

The biggest modification he'd made was to swap the 4.6L for a supercharged Gen2 Voodoo engine - the same that was in the Shelby GT350 - and a Tremec six-speed manual transmission. Of course, he had to make all the requisite upgrades - suspension, driveshaft, brakes, etc. - to handle the extra power. She could seriously walk and talk when he was done.

After I 'inherited' her, I'd done an ECU tune and installed long-tube headers and high-flow catalytic converters, which brought her to at least 800 HP. I'd never had her dynoed - first, because Chrissie would never allow herself to be strapped down like that, and second, neither would I. So, I guesstimated her total HP based on the claims of the various manufacturers. And in any event, I was willing to bet that Chrissie's

magic

, for want of a better word, made her a

lot

stronger.

~@@@@~

Dad said that when he first met Mom, it was like he'd finally found his other half. He said that the first time she held his hand, the whole world stopped for a moment, and he just knew, like with Chrissie. And he said that from the way her eyes went wide as she looked back at him, that she knew it too.

He was scared to death of having her meet Chrissie though. He said he'd dated a bit between the death of his ex and meeting Mom, but they hadn't gone well and had resulted in at least one woman going to the hospital. But, while his concerns were valid, he needn't have worried. The first time Mom met Chrissie... well, she already had an idea of what the car meant to Dad, and not only was she okay with that, but she also - somehow - got Chrissie to accept her being part of their lives. It was grudging at first, but after some very demonstrative displays of affection in Chrissie's presence (and even participation), Mom thanked her for letting her 'share' Dad, and Chrissie accepted Mom. And when I came along, the car became my sanctuary.

Chrissie has always been special. Since I was a baby, I knew it. As soon as I was old enough to walk, I would toddle out to the garage, pat Chrissie's door, and it would open for me. I'd climb inside and snuggle up in those soft leather seats for a nap. Mom said it was no surprise that I felt at home in the car; after all, I had been conceived in the afterthought of a back seat. I don't know how they managed it.

Not only was she my safe place, but she was my protector, my knight in shining armor - hah, I just realized I was being protected by the horse, rather than the rider. Wait... since I'm driving her now, does that make

me

the knight? Hmmm... maybe, at best, a

dark

knight... annnnnd... now I'm Batman.

Nooo, that's not right either. I'm no damn hero. More like... I'm on a quest. A mission. What was that character's name in those books? Roland? Roland... Deschain. The Gunslinger. I rolled it around in my mouth.

'Christa the Gunslinger.'

Yeah, that sounded pretty cool. Oh, that reminds me, I need to talk to Beezy about concealed carry classes.

Wow, that went off on a tangent I didn't expect. I needed to think about that later. So, where was I? Oh yeah, Chrissie's... guardianship.

There were a couple of incidents, but the worst one... I'm just glad I was too little to remember. When I was about three, Chrissie saved me from a pedophile. I was playing in the driveway, but - please don't ever think she was a bad or careless mother - Mom had had a long day and had taken her eye off me just for a second. And with these predators, a second is all it took.

He saw me playing, looked around, and didn't see anyone. He got out of his car, told me he had some candy, and would I like some? I was three! Of course, I wanted some.

He put me in his car. As he was getting in himself, Chrissie came flying out of nowhere and crushed him against his own car. Mom heard the crash and came running, in time to see the man's lifeless body slumped over Chrissie's trunk. She had been in her garage, and reversed right into the guy.

Mom grabbed me, called 911, and without even thinking, told Chrissie to go back into the garage.

When she was telling Dad (after he finally calmed her down - she was hysterical, thinking he'd be furious with her for what almost happened, and she was upset with herself as well) Mom said it was strange that there was so little damage to the pedophile's car. Dad just smiled and said that Chrissie was protecting me. She knew I was inside that monster's car, and hit him just hard enough to kill him, while avoiding causing any injury to me.

And when the police arrived, she was safe in her garage, and there wasn't a mark on her. The police theorized that he'd been the victim of a hit-and-run, and since he was the worst kind of scum, they didn't pursue it very hard. Still, it took Mom a long time to get over it. When she told me the story, it made sense now, why Mom always told Chrissie that she loved her.

~@@@@~

About a year after that, my little brother Tommy was born. He was a cute kid, and not to toot my own horn, but he adored his big sis. Like any other older sibling, I sometimes got annoyed at his constant desire to follow me around, but mostly, I didn't mind. He was funny, always cheerful, and usually went along with whatever I wanted to do. He just wanted to tag along. And no, I didn't abuse my power. I didn't make him dress up or anything. He was my lil bro.

As he grew up, he did build his own group of friends, but we still found time to hang out. The one thing that was surprising was that he didn't seem to notice anything different about Chrissie. And he didn't share Dad's and my love of cars. While Dad never let on that it bothered him, I knew it did, a little. But in my heart of hearts, I was selfishly glad that we had that shared bond, just between us.

On my sixteenth birthday, Dad and I had a conversation about the car. It was a Saturday, and he greeted me warmly when I came down for breakfast. He gave me a big hug and whispered, "Happy Birthday, Sweetheart."

"Thank you, Daddy." He just held me for a minute, stroking my hair. Sue me, I loved my parents and treasured their affection. Some of my friends complained bitterly about theirs, but I just hugged Dad with my head on his chest, and listened to his strong heartbeat.

"Baby, now that you're sixteen, I think maybe it's time you learned to drive Chrissie."

I moved back to look up at him, and my eyes got huge. "Really?" I had my learner's, and I was a good driver, but so far it had all been in Mom's Grand Cherokee. I know, it was 2030, but Dad refused to buy an electric car. He had to pay crazy fossil fuel taxes when he bought it.

He nodded.

"Honey, you know Chrissie is special, right?"

"Yeah, Dad, of course!" The car had been like a member of the family for my whole life, and my refuge. Mom told me I was probably conceived in the car ('or on it', she added, going a little pink), so why shouldn't I feel safest there?

"And not just because a 24-year-old car still looks brand new," he continued.

I nodded, and turned to Chrissie, my smile growing.

Her engine rumbled to life.

~@@@@~

So, I think I've skipped over the introductions. Well, of myself, anyway - I've clearly gone on and on about Chrissie. If you haven't already figured it out, I'm Christa Matthews, first-born of Tim and Elaine Matthews. People say that I look just like my mom, and I will take that compliment every day of the week. I'm not quite as tall as she, but I have her tawny curls that fall a little past my shoulders, and her wide, sea-green eyes. I'm slim and smallish up top, but they fit my body and I've never wished they were bigger.

More than once we've gotten the smarmy '

are you two sisters?

' comment.

"Ugh, why are guys such creeps?" I whined to Mom after one such occurrence. It was an overweight middle-aged guy with a comb-over and a gold chain buried in his chest hair. I shuddered.

Dad overheard, and said, "Hardwired into our DNA, sweetie. Some of us just learn to control it better." He leered at Mom and waggled his eyebrows.

She laughed and kissed him, and I rolled my eyes.

"Eww, get a room," I snarked, but I was secretly pleased that my parents were still so in love. I didn't have a ton of friends, but I did have several with divorced parents, and I could tell it sucked for them.

I know Mom sometimes worried about my social life, but I've never really been interested in boys. Not like

that

, anyway. I had friends, and was close to a few, but nothing ever clicked with anyone on a romantic level. Not even a "Oh, he's hot."

My friend Tish was forever pointing them out. "Ooh, Christa, check that guy out," was her typical line, and she'd nudge me with her elbow. I'd look, and while I could intellectually understand why she thought he was attractive; I just didn't feel anything.

One day, she finally asked point blank, "Christa, are you gay? You've never even looked twice at a guy that I'm aware of."

Startled, I looked at her. "Umm... no? I don't think so, anyway..."

She refused to let it go. "You know there's nothing wrong with that, right? Come on, you can tell me. Unless..." her eyes went wide, "Oh em gee, is it me?

Christa!

It is, isn't it?"

I gaped at her. "Tish! No! You're my best friend, and I love you, but I'm not

in love

with you, I promise!"

"Are you sure?" She smirked at me. "We could make out a little, see what happens?"

"Shut up! You jerk!" I was sure she was kidding. Well, pretty sure.

She laughed. "Okay, so what, then?"

"I dunno, I've never met anyone who interests me. Maybe I'm picky. I assume it'll happen eventually. Can we just leave it alone? Please?"

She gave me a sideways look, but changed the subject. She did start pointing out girls on occasion though. Brat.

~@@@@~

It was two months after my eighteenth birthday when it started. No, not romance. Something much, much worse. Something that completely altered my life.

Chrissie, being what she was, naturally attracted attention. And back in the day, she and Dad had maybe gotten a bit of a reputation. Anyway, we were at a car show, and a bunch of the club members were there. Mom usually came with us, but a friend had just had a baby, and she was eager to visit. Dad laughed and told her to have a good time.

She gave him a sexy smile and said, "You know what kind of mood I'll be in after a day of holding babies, right?"

His eyes got big, and a huge grin spread over his face.

"Eww, Mom! TMI" I shouted, my hands over my ears.

Dad laughed, and Mom kissed me on the cheek, then laid a lip lock on Dad that had me covering my eyes.

~@@@@~

We had been at the show for maybe an hour. We had a loose line of camp chairs set up behind the cars, and the guys were chatting while I helped the moms keep an eye on the kids. I didn't mind, I loved kids, but I liked to listen to the car talk too. Tommy was at a friend's house; he got bored at these shows.

Anyway, I had just finished getting the little terrors settled with juice boxes and snacks, and was about to flop down in my chair, when I saw a guy come up to Dad and ask him if he owned the yellow Mustang. Dad kind of chuckled and asked which one - after all, we were part of an owner's club called Yellow Mustang Nation.

The guy's expression never changed; he just pointed at Chrissie.

"Yep, she lets me drive her," Dad replied, his smile starting to slip.

"Heard some stories. I think I can beat you."

"Good for you. Think all you want; I don't race anymore." Dad's smile was completely gone, and he started to turn away from the guy.

He was shorter than Dad, maybe late twenties, and lean, with longish brown hair, and mirrored aviator sunglasses. I had come over to Dad's other side, curious, when the guy reached out and grabbed Dad's arm.

"Hey, I'm talking to you." His voice was quiet but menacing. Dad turned back and glanced significantly at the guy's hand, then back at him.

He showed at least a modicum of wisdom and let Dad's arm go. But then he noticed me, and even behind the shades, I could feel his eyes crawling up and down my body, and his mouth curled in a little smirk.

Dad's eyes went completely dead, and he reached out an arm to ease me behind him.

"I think we're done here," Dad said, and the tone of his voice frightened me. I've never heard him so cold; like glacier ice or something. I saw Chrissie's running lights flash once, and it was like I could

feel

her awareness. I put one hand on her.

The space around us had gone quiet; people noticing what was going on, and a few of Dad's friends started to drift closer.

The guy looked around, and his smirk broadened. "Sure. For now, anyway. Be seeing you," and he walked away, giving me another mirrored leer.

Dad kept his eyes on the guy until he climbed into his car and left. He was driving a blood red Dodge Charger, and while I couldn't see any badges, it was clearly heavily modified. Just from the sound, I'd say it was a Hellcat.

Once he'd peeled off down the street, Chrissie's side lights flashed once more, and Dad turned to the group.

"Anybody know who the fuck that was?" he demanded. Wow, Dad rarely swore. He was

pissed

.

Head shakes.

"No idea," said Darren, one of Dad's closest friends. "But I got his plate."

~@@@@~

"His name is Frank Engel." It was Bonnie Ziegler speaking; she was a club member and also a sheriff's deputy. She was pretty badass, too, I'm not gonna lie. She drove a 2018 GT convertible in Triple Yellow, with two flags painted on each side, under the 5.0 emblem.

I asked her what they meant, and she said they were her initials, in nautical signal flags. Her father was in the Navy, and he had called her 'BZ' since she was little. It had become 'Beezy' among her closest friends and family.

"Looks like he has a laundry list of priors; reckless driving... assault... illegal racing... another reckless driving... obviously a model citizen."

She handed the printout to Dad.

"Thanks, Beezy. Hmmm, he lives down in Galesburg," he said, naming a small town about an hour south of us.

It was a few days after the car show, and there were six of us hanging out at the house; me, Mom and Dad, Darren and Jessica, and Beezy. We were out on the back patio; the adults were drinking beer or wine, and I had a Dr. Pepper. I think Tommy was up in his room, probably reading or playing video games.

I'd seen Mom give Dad 'The Look', and she cut her eyes at me briefly. Dad nodded and kissed her cheek. "She's eighteen now. I think she should be part of any decisions, but if you say 'no', then that's the end of it."

I knew better than to beg to stay. I just waited for her to decide. Finally, she sighed and nodded. Giving me a small, wistful smile, she said, "You're growing up too fast, Baby." I just hugged her. "Thanks, Mom."

Dad smiled, kissed her again, and gave me a wink. The rest of the group had been watching the exchange, and now they let out a collective breath, and it was back to business.