Accidents Happen

The rain spat in his face, even under the peak of his cap, he couldn't escape the downpour. He moved across the street, red sneakers splashing through puddles and ripped jeans soaking up freezing water. He paused to let a car pass, windscreen wipers a blur, a futile gesture, trying to remove the river pouring down the glass. He got caught by a splash from the windscreen, but didn't notice, his attention was pulled to his legs as a sheet of water sprayed across them, sprouting from the cars front wheels. He took a deep breath, anger stirring inside him, which was quickly cooled by the second wave, as the cars rear wheels passed. He lashed out with his foot at the cars behind, his sneaker connecting with the indicator. He felt a satisfying crunch as the plastic gave way beneath his foot, then a clammy reminder of the rain as his soaking jeans wrapped their denim around his leg.

He shook the jeans loose again and jogged across the road, looking at the cars damaged light and willing the driver to stop. The person in the car ignored him and drove on, oblivious to the damage. Once again heat rose in his stomach, but he calmed quickly, that wasn't why he was here. He took cover in a shop doorway, sheltering against the cold. He kicked aside some rubbish to get further towards the door. The boxes slid across the pavement, coming to a stop against a parked car. Where the boxes had been was a worn black boot, tied with thick purple laces, there was a crude picture of a penguin painted above the heel.

He sighed, brushing the water from his ragged goatee and scratched his stubbly neck.

"Johns," He drawled, his accent thick and slow, like he'd been in the sun too long, "That chu?"

The boot stirred, the rubbish pile bulged and moved, collapsing over his red sneakers. An arm appeared, wrapped in black leather.

"Gimme a hand" The voice was deep, but clear, with a slight trace of an english accent.

He grasped the man's forearm, balancing himself against the wall and bending his legs. Then heaving the man erupted from the garbage, showering the area in paper and cans, sending empty food wrappers spilling into the street.

"Thanks, Rigsby" Said Johns, brushing the remains of the pile from his clothes and brushing down his long leather jacket. "What are you doing here?"

"Yew know damn well wa'am doin' here" Muttered Rigsby, looking at Johns from the corner of his eye, concentrating on the passing traffic.

He reached into his dark coat's deep pocket, rustling through various items till he extracted a packet of cigarettes. He flicked it open, jamming his thick rough fingers inside. The cigarettes bent under his indelicate touch, crumbling and bending to the edges of the box. Finally he trapped a lone cigarette and extracted it, slotting it between his broken and bent teeth, wrapping his dry lips around the filter. He offered the pack to Johns.

"Those things'll kill you" Johns joked, shaking his head at the offer.

Rigsby snorted a short laugh, chuckling to himself. He pulled a black lighter from his other pocket, flicking the cap off and striking the flint with a gnarled thumb. The lighter sparked to life eventually, flame flickering in the wind as it was held up to the bent and crumbled cigarette. Rigsby sucked the flame towards the tip, igniting the tobacco and sucking up a stream of smoke. Rigsby exhaled slowly, feeling the thick air leaving his lungs.

"You don't have to do it y'know" said Johns quietly, flicking his wrist out and taking a look at his watch.

Rigsby snorted again, seemingly more amused than last time. "Wha? Yew boys gonna take me back? Welcome ma'in wit open arms, like am your long lost brother?" He held his arms out mockingly, laughing to himself.

"You only have to ask" muttered Johns.

Rigsby's eyes burned with sudden rage. Bile rose in his throat and his belly exploded with a fury not often roused from him. He clenched the cigarette between his fingers and flicked it into the middle of the street, then turned his head and glared at Johns. His face twisted with hate and the scar down the left side of his face caught fire, his ear to his lip feeling scorched and raw. He curled back his lips and spat onto Rigsby's chest.

"I shudn't have to" Rigsby managed, barely containing himself from boiling over. He stood for a few seconds, the pain in his skin subsiding.

He turned away from Johns's cowering form, pulled another cigarette from the packet and lit it. He took a long drag and blew the smoke out across the street. Johns straightened in the corner, he took a shuffled step closer to Rigsby.

"Sorry" He muttered, "I shouldn't interrupt your business. We've been friends a long time, this shouldn't matter."

"Yew always was a pussy" said Rigsby quietly, "Gettin' in folks affairs."

They stood together for a few minutes, neither speaking. Johns wiped the thick spit of his jacket, Rigsby watched the traffic. A blue saloon came into view at the end of the road, it pulled into their road and sped up once it was round the corner. It looked like many other cars that had already passed. Johns stiffened as he noticed Rigsby's intense gaze fixed on the driver.

"This's him" said Rigsby, "Yew don't be causin no scene here, see?"

Johns nodded quickly glancing at the car approaching down the street. Rigsby took a last quick drag from his cigarette and flicked it across the wet pavement into a puddle. He concentrated on the driver, wary of any action Johns might take.

The car drew nearer, gaining speed as it roared down the street towards them. Rigsby looked on, motionless as it closed the distance. Johns glanced back and forth from the car to the man stood next to him, a look of slight confusion across his face at Rigsby's lack of action. The car drew level with them, speeding through the rain, splashing water across the surrounding cars. Rigsby glared at the driver, then as it flashed past a gap between two parked cars his gaze flicked to the wheel.

The tyre bulged, the rubber straining to contain a sudden build up of pressure. As the car carried on, taking the tyre out of sight, there was a load pop, and the car swirved wildly across the road, slamming into a parked car and ricocheting off it's panels. The driver span the wheel and the car flew to the other side of the road. It hit the back end of a parked SUV, crumpling the front of the car like a crisp packet. The windscreen exploded across the street, fragments of broken glass peppering the back of the SUV shortly before the driver followed. The driver struck the SUV with a sickening crack, blood splattering the black paintwork. The body slumped down across the remains of the cars hood, leaving a trail of blood across the back of the SUV, it came to a rest hanging half off the car, blood trickling to the road.

A second later the SUV's alarm went off, followed a screech of tyres as a car further down the road stopped to see what had happened. Somewhere a woman screamed.

Rigsby turned to Johns, "Now tell me yew didden enjoy that?" he said with a lopsided grin, "The darnest thing, his seatbelt failin' like that."

Johns looked at him, sadness and horror in his eyes and across his face. He walked past Rigsby towards the crash, hoping there was something he could do to help. Rigsby watched him go, knowing that the driver's chances had run out when he hit the SUV. He watched Johns for a while, then turned away, walking out onto the street and away from the crash, the rain began to soak him again, spitting in his face like it was his fault. He hunched his shoulders and walked on, he had other jobs to do tonight.