Man Hunt by K. Edwin Fritz

of Obe's line of sight in a single second.
    Obe leaned forward to see more, but tires squealed and he froze, willing himself to blend into the scenery of the alley behind him. An instant later a blur of vibrant, sky-blue roared past. He felt a hot blast of exhaust fumes and then his own hot flush of panic. Both were followed by a fresh, cool drain. The women inside the car had not seen him. He was safe.
    He knew he should run the other way, and fast. Instead he took several careful steps forward. His fingers caught the corner of the wall as he peeked out to see taillights. His eyes were immediately drawn to the vanity license plate: "MAN KLR".
    Like all of the island's cars, it had several horrible modifications. This one, painted a garishly-bright glossy blue, had a trio of foot-long barbed wire strands extending from the sides of each hubcap. The spinning vortex of hellish chaos they created as the car rolled along would easily shred a man's calves.
    But not knives, Obe thought. Oh, no. Knives would cut his legs clean off, and then how would he run? How would you bitches have any fun?
    From the rear of the car protruded four sharpened forklift tines. The front, he knew, was adorned with a simple steel grill into which triangular shark's teeth had been cut.
    The man in green was attempting to cross the street and into a far alley.
    " Run , you son of a bitch!" Obe whispered. But the women, it seemed, had finally grown bored and were ready to finish the job.
    In a single motion, the car swerved and accelerated, the powerful engine taking the flow of gas from the open throttle and turning it into raw speed. A second later the car's battered front end connected with the ill-fated man, adding another dent to its long, history.
    The man's head snapped back as his body flung high into the air, arms and legs flailing unnaturally. In a moment of eerie silence, the car zipped by directly underneath his awkward flight. It then screeched to a halt far beyond the unmoving body that had fallen in a formless crumple. The tires squealed and smoked, and the front end lurched downward as it hurriedly reversed. It thumped over what was left of the man in green and came to a gentle stop.
    The scene paused then as the women seemed to discuss something. Obe strained to understand but could hear only the engine gargling away like a dog's warning growl.
    Finally, the car pulled slowly forward and drove leisurely over the limp body one more time. The front tires eased up and over the man's head, reluctantly giving way to the pressurized shocks. Obe's gut hitched at the loud crack! of the dead man's skull splitting open under the car's immense weight.
    A moment later the rear tires eased over, squashing a torrent of blood and brains onto the road. Obe saw the spreading pool on the blacktop and envisioned the eventual faded mark it would become.
    Then the car simply kept on going, gathering speed as it went. Two blocks later it turned and vanished out of sight.
     
     

2
     
    Obe peered from around the corner of the alley, trembling from what he had just seen. Though he had been chased by that same car or another like it dozens of times and had always known the intention, this was the first time he'd actually witnessed a kill.
    He couldn't get the last, slow drive-over out of his mind. It had been an insulting after-thought, a loud belch succeeding an expensive meal. He suddenly felt empty and worthless all over again.
    He stared at the body of the man in green, still unable to believe he had run all morning only to be cut down so quickly and efficiently. The blood on the road was still bright with life, still spreading toward its eventual splotch of commemoration like all the others. He saw a leg twisted at a strange angle. The two halves of the skull that had moments ago been a single entity lay separated, oozing what looked like globs of oatmeal.
    It was too much. Obe's stomach hitched once and hard, and then he was bent over emptying what little