City Traffic

Jack forced the old car into a higher gear, his knuckles momentarily flashing white. There are rules, he said. If you don’t water a damn flower, it dies.

Carter tapped his fingers on the loose knees of his jeans.

Jack went on, what did she fucking want from us? Maybe get a job, and you can buy that bozo plant food. Do you have the movie tickets?

They’re in the back, Carter said, still tapping.

Good. They say not to stop traffic this time of night. Turning around would be a nightmare.

Carter nodded. He was glaring at the skyscraper windows, which almost all still had lights on.

Also why’d she stop two guys on the street, what were we gonna do? Jack squared a corner with his hand still gripping the clutch. It was a damn flower outside a hotel, and she was wailing like a fucking maniac!

Yeah, Carter said, she had that weird bag tied around her thigh.

The fucking bag! It rattled as she was screaming No! Ith not dead! Do thumething! With that damn lisp.

The buildings were so bright, Carter couldn’t see anything in the alleyways. Deep trenches of darkness were embedded somewhere on every block.

Carter sighed. Scratched his elbow. Huge windows displaying every framed painting on the walls, then a dark alleyway. More rooms, darkness.

  She was fucking wailing Ith all I have! You know what I think? We passed a gas station! Take that bag off your damn leg, brush the dirt out of your hair, and smile with your mouth shut. You can get a damn job and have all the flowers you want.

    I know.

Carter could never know what was in those alleyways. Another bright window. Another— 

—There was a scream. It stabbed their ears. Carter could feel the car rattle. Or someone’s body being torn in two.

What was that? Carter asked.

Jack remained staring at the road and shrugged. Don’t know. Traffic moves too fast.