The driver of the lead car, number forty-five, attempted to avoid hitting the 'King, slamming on his brakes. Unfortunately for him, he failed. Unfortunately for a group of bystanders, he also spun out of control.
The car in third, number twenty, slowed down; however, it, too, was going too fast to stop so suddenly. It slid to the left and sideswiped the car in second, number sixty-four. Number twenty rolled on its side down the street before stopping in a smoking heap. It was bad, but not so bad that the driver had no chance of surviving. The driver of number sixty-four was not so lucky. After the collision, his car spun and drove onto the plaza to the left. The outer shell of the car flew off in chunks as it hit a low statue, causing it to flip end over end. The chassis–or rather, what was left of it–flipped one more time before sailing into the cold, murky waters of the Chesapeake Bay. The driver had no hope.
“Aw, crap,” Ezekiel heard one of the officers say. The man turned to one of his associates. “Get me Captain Davis here immediately. I want the Fire Department, a whole fleet of ambulances, the boys from the lab, and for heaven's sake, get me more officers!”
“Right away, sir,” another man responded. “Anything else?”
There was a momentary pause as the first officer thought. “Yeah, a hose,” he finally said, his voice hollow and devoid of emotion.
Ezekiel Dawes knew he shouldn't look out from his hiding place, but he peeked around the corner of the phone booth anyway. He saw-
-The white ceiling of his bedroom. He had been having another one of his recurring nightmares. Sighing, he looked at the clock: 5:52 AM. With another long sigh, he arose from bed and prepared himself for the day.
12-Jul-2012 15:39:36
- Last edited on
23-Jan-2013 03:08:31
by
Yam42