Sam saw the car every day. The Maserati would careen down the wrong direction of the one-way street and peel out onto the avenue, roaring away. This happened every day, like clockwork, at 7:25am. Sam knew this because he lived on that street corner, and a month ago, he had almost been hit by the Maserati while crossing the street on his way to work. Sam gestured wildly at the street sign saying it was a one way, and the driver hadn’t even slowed or noticed him. Sam was livid at first. But, as his adrenaline and heart rate calmed down, he figured it was probably a one time occurrence—some entitled asshole lost in the city, taking a wrong turn on accident.
Then the same thing happened the next morning. Soon, Sam could set his watch to the Maserati flying down the wrong way of the one-way street each morning. Each time, it infuriated Sam. He thought of calling the police, of catching the car on camera; he saw visions of the car careening down the street and running over children, pedestrians, animals, colliding with law abiding cars that were simply going the right way. Sam would shake his head every time the Maserati blasted its way down the one-way street, and each time, he thought to himself, “Someone should teach that asshole a lesson.”
Once the idea came into his mind, Sam couldn’t get it out. He rolled it around in his head, and each time he crossed the street, each time he looked down from his balcony at the intersection, he saw the plan play out in his head. Finally, he spoke about it to his friend Rodney, who lived in the apartment across the hall. Sam told him about the Maserati, and how he was thinking of timing the car’s approach with his own car, traveling in the correct direction, initiating a collision, and collecting a sizable chunk of insurance money. A nice car like that had to have some extensive insurance, and the driver would inarguably be at fault, going the wrong way down a one-way street. Sam could get some cash, a new car, and teach the driver a serious lesson.
“What if you get injured?” Rodney asked him.
Sam shrugged. “More money for me. I’ll up the bodily-harm insurance on my car. I can handle a broken leg and some bruises if I get a hundred grand out of it. Maybe even a few weeks of disability. It’s the principle that really matters.”
Sam had expected Rodney to laugh and talk him out of it. Rodney was silent for a while, deep in thought, and he finally said, “You’re gonna need a witness.”
Soon, the plan had taken shape and become real. Sam’s insurance premium was raised, his car’s collision and bodily harm coverage was set at the highest amount. The airbags would need to be deployed in his car to guarantee that the car would be totaled. Rodney would be on the sidewalk near the middle of the one way street; he’d have Sam on his cell phone, coordinating the exact second that the Maserati was coming. He and Rodney had gone over the turn, finding the exact angle and speed that they’d need. Sam studied the Maserati’s movement each morning, and using his memory of the car’s trajectory, he and Rodney rehearsed for a week. The day was set for Tuesday morning.
The men woke up and Sam went to his car while Rodney walked to his designated place on the sidewalk. Rodney called Sam and they stayed on the line as Sam idled his car, revving the engine at a short distance from the one way intersection. Time passed very slowly as they waited. And then, the moment Sam’s dashboard clock read 7:25, Rodney said over the phone, “Alright, here we go.”
Sam heard the gunning of the Maserati’s engine as he shifted into drive and floored the gas. The car sped obediently towards the turn and Sam felt his seatbelt against his body. He took a deep breath and tried to relax as he took a sharp left turn and drove directly into the speeding Maserati.
The collision had been planned perfectly. The Maserati rammed into the front of Sam’s car with deadly speed; there was a quick burst of collision, the dull packing sound of steel crashing into steel as Sam’s car spun out. The airbags exploded in Sam’s car. Good, he thought. And there was a quick snap of fiery pain in his left knee. Broken? Maybe. Sam knew that his adrenaline would mask any pain or injury for the time being, and while there was a high pitched whine in his ears, he was still deeply lucid. He saw the man get out from the twisted wreckage of the Maserati and start to approach him. Sam rolled down his window and prepared to yell the rehearsed lines: “What the fuck, man?! This is a one way street, you asshole!” He saw the driver reach into his pocket, assumably for his wallet. Sam had just started to speak when the driver took out a handgun and held it to Sam’s head and fired at point blank range. The bullet tore through Sam’s left temple and blasted his brains onto the passenger side window. Sam’s death was instant; his final thoughts were an incoherent flash of confusion before the darkness swallowed him.
Rodney had been watching and waiting for the collision; it had happened just as they had planned. He was running towards the scene of the accident when he saw the driver of the Maserati exit his crashed vehicle and approach Sam’s car. Rodney had come within a few yards of the crash when he saw the gun and heard the shot fired. Rodney was confused and then terrified as the man turned around and saw him. Rodney started to put his hands up and walk backwards, saying “Whoa, no, no, no.”
There was a loud shot and a blast of searing heat ripped through Rodney’s chest. He took one more step back and then his legs gave out from under him and he fell backwards and felt nothing as he landed on his back, his head cracking against the asphalt, his eyes looking up at the sky. He noticed that he couldn’t breathe and that it didn’t matter; his body was a warm drone, numb and flooded with adrenaline. His thoughts swirled into nothing and he closed his eyes and died.
The driver of the Maserati hurriedly placed his handgun back in its holster and rushed towards the back of his car. He opened the trunk and took out two large black briefcases, and glancing around, ran in the opposite direction, away from the crash.