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 crossed Goldfields Avenue and low-level lights arose within some of the RVs. A number of alarmed occupants stepped out into the cool air, barely dressed and carrying their shoes. The sound assault arrived well ahead of the vehicle’s measured movements along eastbound Province Boulevard.
The name Province preserved the colonial history of this important passageway. Spanish colonizers had used this route to travel between missions, ranches, and farms across their former land grant. This historical significance was marked by the distinctive road signs in Carl's neighborhood, though few modern residents knew of its origins.
While Carl’s dead eyes thanked the fish that once calmed him and once offered relief to his high blood pressure, his car left its stall in the detached garage behind his home. The vehicle crept along the narrow driveway on the east side of Carl's house.
Carl filled the dry cavity of his mouth with fluffy sweet goodness. Before he could push the balance of biscuit past his lips, his left hand fell to the table while the support from his left leg gave way and portions of his torso went limp.
Blessed to have no knowledge of the limited time he was operating within, Carl went about his Saturday with the confidence of many hundreds of Saturdays to come. He fought through the balancing act of navigating down narrow stairs with a shaky handrail.
The downstairs thermostat is mounted near the main entryway and senses a whispering cold void seeping through the front door. Heat from a gas-fired forced-air system ignites with a high-pitched click multiple times throughout Carl’s rest. Deteriorated ductwork unevenly distributes this hot air throughout the old house, riddled with hidden leaks and plagued by too many dust barriers. Until the entryway thermostat’s demand is met, the upstairs roasts with dry air attacking Carl’s respiratory tract and disrupting his sleep.
Carl’s left arm was pinned beneath his twisted torso and his legs came to rest awkwardly with his right foot entangled in the wooden stretchers of his fallen armchair. A faint pulse echoed the last pumping motion of his heart’s chambers, and then even that last imperceptible sign of life was gone.
