Chainsaw Starts Then Dies Immediately Novels & Stories

And all that was left was a puff of smoke. I went up the stairs without a word and got all my suitcases downstairs, while Xavier finished the dishes. I couldn’t take my bike with me so I pulled the BMW out. We were all set to go, and Xavier had gotten into his car, when the problem started. The engine started, then failed. He tried it again. It started, then failed. “Ah, crap.” He muttered. He got out of the car and popped open the hood, looking at it. After about half an hour, he muttered something about the plugs being disconnected. I simply stood there with my arms folded.

The dashboard lights flickered. “What now?” Evalina muttered, hitting the brakes. The engine coughed twice, then died completely. The car came to a halt in the middle of a deserted forest road. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” Evalina slapped the steering wheel. “This feels like a damn curse!” Hunter got out first and popped the hood. White steam poured out. “Radiator’s busted. It’s overheating,” he said, fanning away the smoke. “We’re not going anywhere, Eva.”

Then the car lost power. Samantha guided it toward the shoulder, managing to get us far enough off the road before the engine finally died. She sat there for a moment with both hands still on the steering wheel. Then she exhaled. “Perfect.” I looked at her. “Is it bad?” “I have absolutely no idea.” She tried the ignition. The engine turned over once, then gave a weak click. She tried again. Nothing. A faint smell of something hot drifted through the vents. Samantha frowned.

"We're almost there. Thornwood Peaks is just over this ridge." ​As if the universe decided my desperate optimism was offensive, the engine gave a violent, metallic shudder. A loud BANG echoed through the heavy pines, followed immediately by a thick plume of white smoke erupting from under the hood. ​The car died completely. ​Fighting the dead weight of the wheel, I wrestled the Civic toward the muddy shoulder, slamming on the brakes just before we pitched into a deep ditch. Silence slammed into the car, broken only by the deafening roar of the rain on the thin roof.

Rowan frowned, easing off the gas. "Fuck...that’s... not good." The rumble escalated into an unmistakable cough, and the sleek black sedan lurched forward once, then twice, before the dashboard lit up like a Christmas tree gone wild with warning lights. "Oh, come on," Rowan muttered, guiding the car to the shoulder as it lost power completely. The engine gave one last dramatic wheeze and died, leaving us coasting to a slow, undignified stop on the quiet road. "Shit..."

Sighing, and feeling the exhaustion in my bones, I turned the key in the ignition, trying to start the car again. But the engine only sputters, and sputters, eventually dying off again. Cursing under my breath, I tried a few more times, only to arrive at the same result, to my absolute frustration. Looking around the deserted bridge, I got out of the car and slammed the door shut, walking over to the hood and tearing it open. Why the fuck did this car have to act up in the middle of nowhere, at this hour? Plus it was freezing… I’d only just ducked my head down to check what the problem could be, in the bumper, when a deep male voice rang out behind me.

The car starts making the noise about forty miles later. At first it’s just a cough from somewhere under the hood. Then a metallic clunk. I slowly look toward the dashboard. “Don’t you dare.” The engine wheezes ominously. Aiden glances sideways at me. “It’s probably fine.” “It is absolutely not fine. That sound means we’re about to die on the side of the road.” Another clunk. The engine sputters once. Then dies completely. We roll onto the shoulder of an empty highway surrounded by snow-covered fields and endless pine forest.

He opened the door and sat. “So?” I asked anxiously. He started the engine. “It's not the fuel. Your battery is dead. Your alternator isn't charging it properly. Also, your radiator hose has bursted and the engine's overheated. Driving it now could ruin the engine. The starter motor has failed.” I blinked. “Gosh.” “Thank God it's parked well. Tomorrow I'll send my engineer to have it fixed. Okay?” “Alright.” “They'll tow it, repair and bring it back.”

The sharp edges she carries around everyone else are dulled by alcohol and exhaustion. She’ll pass out soon. Good. The silence returns, but it's different now. It hangs heavy with what almost happened. Then the engine sputters. Once. Twice. And dies. I curse quietly, gripping the wheel tighter as the car slows to a reluctant stop under the weight of the rain. “Damn it.” I try again. Nothing. The engine won't respond. I lean back slightly, exhaling through my nose as I check the dashboard. Fuel. Empty.

He pulled his arm back and sat up, turning his back to me as he reached for his jeans. “Put your clothes on,” he said softly, his voice rough with sleep. “We’re leaving.” Ten minutes later, we stepped out into the damp morning air behind the motel. Zane walked over to his matte-black motorcycle parked near the alleyway. He swung his leg over the seat, turned the key, and kicked the ignition. The bike spat out a harsh cough, sputtered twice, and died. He growled under his breath and kicked it again. The engine turned over weakly, metallic grinding echoing in the empty lot, before falling completely silent. The storm had drowned the starter.