'When there is no more room in hell' (Week 1; Act 0.1)
Cecil Atkins
You are sure that somewhere in this part of Raleigh was the address where Mary-Sue had set up with that bastard, on the dashboard partially pushed beneath the feet of day-glow Jesus is a piece of paper containing a scribbled address. With that in mind you had been cruising the area in hope that you might see her or him. Oh what you would do to him when you found them, with your right hand you reached up and caressed the stock of your Remington. For an hour now you had been slowly cruising the several blocks of tenements.
Your radio had been filled with news reports over the flu epidemic that seemed to be the only thing of interest just now, you see it as God’s punishment on the immoral. The news people were telling people to stay off the streets, that made things easier for you, less folks wandering the streets meant spotting Mary-Sue or her beau was gonna be simpler. You had soon switched that off and started filling the cab with some sweet sounds.
For a few minutes the surge in Police cars, lights flashing and sirens screaming, had you wondering what was going on, but whatever it was they were heading away from you mostly heading for the freeway and the city centre.
You aren’t sure, your music is far too loud, but you think you heard the sound of gunfire and explosions from somewhere over that way.
Things were beginning to go a bit weird. On the sidewalk it seemed that a group of whacked out loons were attacking indiscriminate passers by, this place is a real Sodom and Gomorrah. Whatever was happening it was none of your business, no sireebob. But you think it might be a good idea to hit the gas pedal and get the hell out of this street, and from the way Jesus is nodding on your dashboard it would seem he too thinks it a good idea.
At the intersection a drunk, at least he was moving like a drunk, suddenly steps, no jumps, into the road in front of you. Reacting instantly you pull the wheel of the Dodge and swerve in an effort to miss the idiot - you miss. However, the heavy pick up sweeps across the intersection right into the path of an oncoming taxi. With a crash and the ominous tearing sound of metal being ripped the Dodge continues straight ahead and collides with a telephone pole, knocking it over.
As you watch in horrified fascination suddenly exposed electricity cables flash sparks as they twist and turn towards your stalled vehicle and the slowly moving gas puddle that was forming beside the drivers door.
Out the corner of your eye you see a gang of drunks including the sumbitch who caused the crash slowly move towards the wrecked cab …