Carl the Death Driver / Ch-2 / Pt-4

The massive development sat on indefinite hold. Construction stopped years ago, leaving the entire project perpetually stuck in back-and-forth litigation. One block revealed the hollow bones of multiple high-rise structures — concrete columns with steel reinforcements climbing up from pile foundations. On another city block, acres of cleared and graded land, meant for an outdoor themed retail center and recreational complex, had surrendered to migrating tall grass and an irregular distribution of squatter tents of every size and color. The third block contained the ruins of a vast industrial compound, its buildings boarded up and blackened by fire. While the development had promised homes for a projected 500 to 600 residents, now 150 or so people resided in squalor on the project’s doorstep, surrounded by an expansive backdrop of mangled fencing and graffiti-covered wooden barriers.

Most who emerged to witness LUVCARL’s transgressions remained at the scene. Others, awakened by the disturbance, emerged from their crippled recreational refuges only after hoping it would pass. Some captured LUVCARL on their mobile devices while others noted his California vanity plates. No one called authorities or made anonymous requests for a police cruiser to sweep the area. A four-wheeled predator prowled their midst, but it remained their problem alone. With so little in their possession, they had everything to lose when involving law enforcement. They were the easy targets to blame in the aftermath of any incident — the everlasting outside instigators, no matter how long they remained or strived to be peaceful regulars.

A man pushed a metal cart through the stench of human excrement on the development side of Province Boulevard. All of his possessions in the world were weathered, mangled, and jammed into the cart along with found objects that had little or no purpose. Moving in reverse, LUVCARL passed this man and skidded to a stop. Front headlights blinded the man and he screamed out to the rogue vehicle as if it were an evil spirit from another world, “The Lord is my light you mechanized demon. I will not bow down to you.” His hands covered his face to avoid the high beams and his cries continued to scold LUVCARL as if the car were a juvenile who perpetually found trouble and offered no remorse.

LUVCARL lowered his lights and slowly moved forward alongside the cart man. The scolding subsided as the man felt the focus of the car. A few of the displaced locals, drawn out into the night, became protective of the man and his cart. Shouts from various directions filled the void of uncomfortable tension between LUVCARL and the man. A woman’s voice echoed off the concrete structure that stood guard over the scene, “You’ve no business with that man.” Other voices from great distances implored the vehicle to be on its way. The front driver side window lowered with a mechanical whisper. Then one by one, each door lock released in a deliberate sequence with the final click arising from the front driver’s door. The man with the cart understood that this was an invitation to get into the car. The cart man growled his rebuke, “I’d sooner jump into the teeth of a mighty white shark swimming in the fires of hell.”

A football emerged from above, spiraling downward through the dark until it slapped the rear fender of the unwelcome menace. LUVCARL’s brights snapped to attention. The vehicle jumped into gear for a fast and final departure. A stream of random household objects and articles of clothing sailed through the air in the departing car’s direction. A work boot bounced off LUVCARL’s rear window, and a hockey stick, flung like a boomerang, glanced his rooftop. A flurry of projectiles followed, but lacked weight and force, and fell far short of the accelerating vehicle. In the immediate aftermath of what LUVCARL left behind, some felt the smack of humiliation knowing they were susceptible to the folly of others who could come and go at will. Others took it in stride, seeing it as a reminder of their own ongoing vigilance to someday escape this life and drive away with such power and speed.

Heading up the Boulevard, the current color of traffic light signals had no effect on LUVCARL’s steady speed. It was late and roadway circulation was relegated to those heading home from a late night swing shift and others with no real obligation to rise with the coming dawn. There were no near misses as red lights were run and no one on the streets to bear witness to the infractions. LUVCARL turned to side streets and moved through stop sign intersections in the same continuous style — no stopping and no one to stop for.

Street after street of dark dwellings with inhabitants hours into deep sleep. Fenced off yards, borderline hedges, and driveways filled with resting autos. Lawn displays featuring well-groomed gardens, wide ranging whimsical décor, or a random distressed kinetic sculpture lacking any actual movement in the still of night. Empty streets encouraged LUVCARL to maintain an unrestrained pace past parked cars crammed into every curbside space. The homes on each side seemed to repeat in patterns. The distinctive details of each individual property lost in the haze of motion.

A light mist in the air diffused the glow from tall streetlamps in the distance. An unusual city block came into view. A great lawn many acres across. A huge open space, framed by young coastal live oak and concrete sidewalks. The trees evenly spaced with generous gaps along the perimeter in anticipation of their long life and future footprint on this landscape.

Part of an urban renewal project, this city block was once an old sanitation department collection site. It was fenced off for a little over two decades. In those stagnant years, the parcel remained dormant with half demolished structures near the center of the land. It was a magnet for drug trade and a popular rendezvous spot for a local gang. Homegrown rumors perpetuated a vague story in which the project awaited federal matching funds to rehabilitate the site and the adjoining land. The long anticipated transformation promised to provide a sprawling park with the misleading label of nature preserve. Year after year at the annual town hall, when pressed about the eyesore, community leaders often presented a vision of man-made meadows complete with native tall grasses and splendid varieties of wildflowers. In the end, the old structures were scraped from the land, the grass was cut, and the area was transformed into a great lawn, which became an urban sanctuary for people and their pets.

In the middle of the great lawn and far back from the street a vital city complex sat atop a small hill. Tall tan brick walls and dark green security gates defined the protective boundaries of a municipal fortress decorated with a variety of warning signs. Behind the walls and gates, a water tower hovered almost 130 feet above the refurbished landscape.