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July 22, 2004
From a Fountain 3
7:49 AM, Tuesday, May 26, 2096
Traffic was already being diverted south off of upper A1A at the Broward Causeway by the time Fuzzy drove Davis to the beach. Fuzzy showed his eye to the portable scanner and a hastily erected barrier rose to allow them to come through. Davis could see before too long by the flashing lights that the accident was indeed serious.
A head-on collision was the kind of accident that only took place on large throughways, and even those were rare. Vehicular sensors had come so far that malfunctions were almost unheard of, yet here, on the scarcely traveled upper A1A, were sheriff transports, rescue workers, the scattered remains of at least one vehicle.
The two detectives exited the Yuri and walked over to examine the first one, an Ergo in what was once a bright cherry shade of red. Now it was charred black, flipped 180° around, with smoke still pouring out of its tail. Davis gritted his teeth at the condition. Salvage workers were still picking through the vehicle.
Davis turned to Fuzzy and said, “Not much to see here until they're done, you think the other one's that way?” Davis gestured toward an open strip of railing, where the second vehicle must have run off the highway. The two of them walked over, approaching the gap, and looking precariously over.
Fuzzy said, “You ever seen anything like this?”
Davis nodded his head in affirmation. “The Georgia Memorial Skyway at 8 PM on Friday is not to be missed.”
“It looks like it's low tide. We should go down before the it comes back in. After you?”
They walked to the access ladder. The road below was the road along the coast before the oceans rose, making transportation on the highway impossible. Low tide did not necessarily make it easy, there were still four inches of seawater along the highway, and waves lapped the two specialists' boots as they walked toward the wreckage of the white Ford Revere. Although the vehicle was crushed in its own weight, the water, mingled with the rain from the previous night, prevented it from being destroyed by a similar conflagration as the red car above.
The drivers door had already been opened by rescue workers, in the futile hope that the cabin's occupant had survived. Judging by the amount of blood that appeared to have poured from the side, it was obvious that she hadn't. “Looks like the water prevented any fire from starting, but there's strontium gel all over the water's surface.”
Fuzzy spoke into a hidden receiver on his collar, “For Sharecom: How come nobody called Environmental? There's fuel all over the place.” To Davis, “That eye of yours is really something.”
“Make a note,” Davis continued, ignoring Fuzzy's comment, “this vehicle should have exploded on impact with all that gel, it's a miracle it's intact.” He pulled the door open wider to view the inside and sucked in a breath when he realized the deceased occupant was still present.
“Oh sweet Mother of God!” Fuzzy said as soon as he saw her. “What's wrong with these fucks? For Sharecom: tell Environmental to wait until Morbid Services gets here, and get them over here pronto!" Fuzzy put his lapel back down and said to Davis, "Environmental will decide she's hazardous waste and vacuum her into their tank.”
Posted by Bastique at July 22, 2004 12:12 PM