HELM

The Blackhawk pulled up behind him, spraying windshield fluid hastily like a hose. Countless cars whizzed by on the other side of the road. Through the rearview mirror, Rick could see the man ferociously shaking his fist, face as red as a ripe tomato. He then started shouting again, but by that time, Rick had already lost interest and was staring blankly at his fuzzy dice, still swaying from the sudden stop.

The light changed to green, and Rick set off with a fast pace. The man accelerated to a similar speed, all the while blaring the horn as if its lungs were infinitely large. Half a minute later, the next traffic light turned yellow. Rick was so fed up by the honking that he decided, "You know what? I could easily make it past, but this fine gentleman has been giving me a rough time. He deserves a taste of his own medicine." Rick abruptly stopped short of the intersection, and the car behind him screeched to a halt. The man stormed out of his car, pushing the door wide open. Now that he was standing upright, this stocky yet towering man seemed very intimidating. Rick panicked. He floored the gas and booked away, running the red light and defiantly giving a one-finger salute as he disappeared into the distance. Soon, all that was left were the distant sounds of "Paranoid" by Black Sabbath playing from his radio.

The hurricane was heading toward Linda. ▲