Shooting Cars

On the motorway and there was a constant flow of cars, like a river of steel and metal. It never stops, or slows, in one sight the whole of society could be viewed by the type of their car. At least that's what John thought as he cleaned his rifle checking the barrel was free of dirt and perfecting the sights for maximum accuracy. He held it back and smiling, laid it on the ground inside the woods. With the motorway in plain view, he readied the barrel and waited.

There was a Ford that caught his eye; it was the silver that did it. But that was just a sheep in wolf's clothing. There were a few Peugeots passing but he paid them no mind. Then, coming round the bend was the familiar sight of a BMW, the beginning of the road to snobbery. John prepared himself, perfectly calm and collected. The bullet sailed through the air and shattered one of the wing mirrors. This caused the car to swerve slightly but it regained control relatively easily and continued on.

For a while there was nothing, just ordinary working or middle class cars passing by. John was pacing himself today; he only had four bullets and didn't want to waste them. Then something else caught his eye, another BMW but with a sports car version. For people who wanted to show off their power, but couldn't afford the real deal. He breathed heavily, small beads of sweat trickling down his face. A crack of the rifle and the bullet struck the car in the side. The driver, panic stricken drove the car into the side; scraping the door and breaking the wing mirror. This made several other cars avoid it, eventually the situation was restored which was a testament to the driver's skill.

Almost immediately John spotted a Jaguar, he was amused by it's speed. At fifty it was obviously owned by a middle-aged guy who didn't want to take any risks. Panting with anticipation John readied himself, aiming for the part, which he deemed suitable. As the shot echoed around the road the man clutched his arm in pain, blood streaming from his wound. With one hand he drastically turned the car, forcing three others to brake. With the clutch burning the driver managed to get it onto the stopping zone. John saw him faint with the sheer shock.

It was at least an hour until John saw his next . target, a LamborghiniShining beautifully in its blood red tones. The speed was ridiculously fast, so John imagined that the car must have been owned by a young hot shot who had gotten his break in the city. With no time to waste and sweat pouring down his face he fired. With immediate response the young man's head exploded in a shower of blood and grey matter. The car was out of control, with the corpse's foot obviously still on the accelerator. The car slammed into the side and ricocheted across the width of the road, a second slammed into the flank, the woman was catapulted through the windscreen and into the Lamborghini, snapping her fragile form the wrong way. A multitude of cars piled up, leaving a still lump of metal, silent from the recent violence.

Glad he decided to bring a backup bullet, he loaded the rifle and aimed for the wrecked Lamborghini's exposed and crippled engine. The result was an explosion in twisted metal and fire. Which spread across the road, John could see little specs trying to crawl out of the flames. Which were soon made still by the spreading fire.

Happy, John packed away his rifle and walked away, leaving a pool of fluid in the place where he was lying.