The Wrong Part of Town
It was six o'clock on a sweltering hot Friday and the traffic was slowing down a bit on the freeway. Clarice normally hated driving into the city yet this time she was glad to make the trip. She had been watching gun auction sites for a good deal on a bullpup shotgun and finally found a Mossberg at a pawn shop in the city, now she was heading over to pick it up.
The hourly news came on the radio and the announcer gave an update on the latest police shooting along with the protests that were planned at police headquarters later that night. This would be the third night of protests in a row, and while she knew it wasn't the best time to go into the city she told herself it would be fine. The pawn shop was not anywhere near the main police station and the natives wouldn't get restless until after dark. No worries. While a sweltering hot August night was perfect for riots, there was also a good chance of rain.
She finally saw her exit and pulled off the highway into stop and go traffic. The four lane road had run down houses on either side, and nearly every one had a short chain link fence around the front yard. At half mile intervals a liquor store or corner market would appear complete with a group of poorly dressed men loitering out front.
Traffic was moving along nicely, then the radio caught her attention, "We are getting reports of a possible explosion in Washington DC. Details are scarce, however sources say..."
She glanced at the radio after it went silent and then she was startled to hear a loud crunch as the car in the next lane over was rear ended. Another car up ahead jumped the curb and hit a light pole. The cars in front of Clarice started slowing but no brake lights flashed, she hit her brakes and the pedal felt oddly stiff. She realized the car was dead and was coasting.
All of the vehicles on the road came to a stop.
Keep up the good work 
