One good thing about not having much stuff is that when religious fanatics break in to kill me I can dip and not lose much.
I wonder how Gary turned them on to me. I have this image in my mind of him sitting at some big church pretending not to be a huge asshole and all the religious people eating it up and talking about “Brother Gary” and all the good things he’s doing. I don’t even know if it’s true but it pisses me off even more.
You can’t call someone in prison. I knew that, I didn’t think about it. That meant I had to drive all the way back to New York State to tell the professor I saved the world. Or whatever I did. He genuinely seems to regret his actions, not just that he got caught. The system works?
I’ve been attacked by car-ram opener with good old fashioned shooting at me chaser twice. It’s enough to make me skittish about accidents.
Leaving the prison I was crossing a bridge on a country road when it looked like a Kia Rio turned in front of a Grand Cherokee and intentionally caused an accident. From the prison parking lot to there I hadn’t seen a single other car and then BOOM, six car pile-up? Suspicious.
No one was shooting at me with assault rifles or shotguns though so I got out of my car. Cautiously. The only other non-murder attempt crash I’ve been in turned into a murder attempt. I’ve had bad luck on the road. Actually, since I drive so much, I’ve had good luck.
An old Town & Country was wedged against the side of the bridge. Looked like it had taken a good whack. The woman in the driver’s seat wasn’t screaming but she was all bloody. I think that’s a bad sign for normal people. When they aren’t making a fuss I think that means they’re really fucked up.
With my strength spell I pulled off the cracked windshield in a big sheet and then ripped off the steering column to get her loose. I pulled her out and was about to start with the healing spell when I heard someone say “Frieda?”
There was a methy looking woman in an oversized army coat standing with a rough/scared looking dude with a shaved head who was wearing the same coat, which was too small on him. I assumed the minivan lady was Frieda, but she was looking at me.
She looked a little familiar, but I couldn’t place her.
That’s when I saw two dudes drive up and get out of a Wrangler Sport Unlimited with handguns.
Rocket Cat 