under the big black sun: a fable
On the main highway again, near the outlying hospital, leaving the dismal riverbottom forever, Mac eyes the pessimistic message of the gas gauge, but in moments finds it no longer a concern; behind him a cherry top erupts, howling insistently. And as if not enough, another cruiser coming the opposite way careens across the median, blocking the Fury. Stopped, by lights.
Mac checks the rear view mirror for his appearance.
As the bullhorn instructs him to remain seated, hands up, he tries to predict which officer it will be approaching him, pistol lifted.
