Dimensions
111 x 178 x 41mm
Christine was eating into his mind, burrowing into his unconscious . . .
'That night I had a dream again, only in this one Christine was old - no, not just old; she was ancient, a terrible hulk of a car, something you'd expect to see in a Tarot pack: instead of the Hanged Man, the Death Car . . . The engine roared and hissed and jetted filthy blue oilsmoke.'
'It wasn't empty. Roland D Lebay was lolling behind the wheel. His eyes were open but they were glazed and dead. Each time the engine revved and Christine's rust-eaten body vibrated, he flopped like a ragdoll. His peeling skull nodded back and forth.'
Christine, blood-red, fat and finned, was twenty. Her promise lay in her past. Greedy and big, she was Arnie's obsession, a '58 Plymouth Fury. Broken down but not finished. There was still power in her - a frightening power that leaked like sump oil, staining and corrupting. A malign power that corroded the mind and turned ownership into Possession.
