The Driver's Guide to Hitting Pedestrians

My van is so named because of the six airbrushed sunsets emblazoned on it. The red blood of pedestrians, drying to a dark brown, looks good mixed with the various hues of orange and yellow. I used to wash the blood off every night before going to park in the alley. Then there were other drivers, more pedestrians, something involving the Internet and government subsidies. Ritualistic vehicular manslaughter became a game, complete with cash prizes. Evidence became a trophy. And while everyone was far from cool with it, the opposed were in the minority. Boring, passive little shits.

It goes like this. Every time a driver hits a pedestrian, he or she earns points. It’s very simple. A pedestrian is only safe when he or she is in his or her house or car. Not all pedestrians are pedestrians all the time. However, because everyone who owns a smart phone is always in the system, the more time a pedestrian spends walking, the more his or her value increases. In other words, the more points a driver gets for hitting them. All drivers get points for hitting pedestrians, but you can tell the really serious drivers. We’re the ones with custom vans, our identities airbrushed or enameled on the side of our vehicles. The most serious of us rarely even leave our vehicles. The pedestrians with the highest point values are usually in rural areas or metropolitan areas. Rural pedestrians simply have to walk farther to get to things and most of them have land to walk around on. Some metropolitan pedestrians don’t even own cars, so they walk all the time, really racking up the points. I tend to stick to the cities because the volume is greater. I can usually take out four or five pedestrians a day.

Okay, so “take out” is a little strong. I usually just hit them. The goal is not to kill them, although that does happen at times. To kill a pedestrian ends in a point deduction. After hitting them, it’s up to the driver to get them to a hospital. Our country is greatly underfunded. Ambulances are rare. Fortunately, because our country is more or less run by insurance companies, hospitals thrive and the game is great for business. Death is cheap compared to a near fatal impact.

So here’s the situation. Each month is a different round. It’s currently June. Round 6. The round ends at the end of the month, both a pedestrian and a driver winner are declared, and the cash prize is paid out. I have yet to win, although I keep getting better. I’m currently in third place. It’s the final day of the round. I’m in Dayton, Ohio, home of the pedestrian leader, Omar Hidalgo. I figure I either need to hit ten regular pedestrians today or one Omar Hidalgo. Dayton is not a huge city, so Hidalgo shouldn’t be impossible to find. There are other pedestrians to hit and there’s a hospital right on the edge of town. Meaning that, after each hit, I won’t have to spend an inordinate amount of time shuttling the victims back and forth. That’s a pain in the ass and another strike against a rural pedestrian hunt.

But the pedestrians here are even more savage and out of control than the pedestrians across the rest of the country.

I’m squatting down in the back of Sunset 6 shitting in my man-size litter box when the first wave of pedestrians hit. They slam into the van, come at the tires with sharp objects, attempting to disable it. They could be acting on their own or they could be working for Kathy Coffee or Frank Unicorn. Kathy Coffee’s currently in first place. She drives some kind of delivery truck with a steaming cup of coffee painted on the side. The steam from the coffee spells out the word “KILL”. I’ve never met her but she seems like a badass. Frank Unicorn holds second. He has a purple van with teardrop windows and a ferocious unicorn, equipped with an abnormally large penis, airbrushed on the side. It’s my opinion that Unicorn has cheated his way to the top. Mostly by paying off feral pedestrians to take out his competition. Whatever he’s paying them would be a drop in the bucket compared to his cash prize if he actually manages to win. It’s a risk. It’s a gamble. But it’s strictly against the rules to make physical contact with the other drivers. To do so is instant disqualification.

I hope to make sure he loses.

I crank open the back window of the van and shout, “Get away, you little fuckers!” hoping they’ll think I’m threatening. Hoping they won’t realize I’m squatting down, my pants around my ankles, my ass hanging over a box of cat litter.

Surprisingly, they run off. One of them shouts “That’s for the Unicorn!”

I’ll fuck them up if I ever see them. They don’t know what Sunset 6 is capable of.

After thoroughly Windexing my ass and giving it a quick wipe, I grab my phone to see where things stand. I’m still in third place, but only by a pedestrian. Hidalgo is still on the loose. Unicorn is in Dayton as well, which is just what I thought given the gang he sent to rough up Sunset. Coffee is in New York. That could be bad. She could hit pedestrians all day long in New York. But there’s a lot of congestion there, meaning she will spend a lot of time stuck in traffic. But she has a ten pedestrian lead on me and a nine pedestrian lead over Unicorn. There are, however, several superstar pedestrians in New York. If she hits one of them, there is no winning.

And while I’m checking these stats, Unicorn has managed to take down two peds. A twofer. Rare and powerful.

I need to get moving.

I hop out of the van to give it a quick survey. To see how many tires the peds managed to take out.

It’s only one.

I can change that in no time.

I change the tire and hop back in the van. Nothing’s changed. I have a considerable lead over fourth place and with this being the last day, everyone else has probably given up. Luckily it’s a Wednesday so people have to go to work. Otherwise the peds would just stay in.

I fire up the van, slam it into gear, and roar out of the alleyway, anxious for some kind of satisfying contact.

I turn the music up really loud. The van vibrates all around me, an obnoxious and protective lover. Something that is wholly mine. I scan the sidewalks looking for prey. I barrel through intersections and take turns on two wheels. I speed through 25 mph neighborhoods at 70 or 80. I run a hand through my greasy hair, sip my coffee that I roast in the van and brew over the heat of the engine, make and consume a sandwich from fixings I keep in a cooler between the seats, check my phone repeatedly, and think it would be cool if I had someone to talk to.

What will I do if I win?

Buy some fucking friends.

10.

Hidalgo might be staying in today. But he’s a superstar ped. He needs the challenge just like we need the challenge. Probably for the same reason Coffee hasn’t hit anyone all day. They’re both toying with us. Meaning Hidalgo is probably looking for me as much as I’m looking for him.

Unless he’s looking for Unicorn.

11.

Unicorn hits his third of the day and it isn’t even noon yet. He’ll be at the hospital shortly. Hidalgo might be there too.

I head for the hospital.

On the way, I roar through an intersection at Wayne and Wilmington. In my rearview mirror, I see a man cautiously step out into the crosswalk. I slam on the brakes and punch it into reverse. Anticipating his possible retreat, I turn the wheel slightly and hit him straight on. He drops out of sight so I miss his impact with the ground and the subsequent roll. The possible blood spray. I log the hit in my phone and get out. I throw open the back doors. The ped is crumpled on the street. It’s possible his hip and maybe an arm are broken. He might be in shock. I check to make sure he has a pulse and when I feel it thudding faintly in the side of his neck, I hoist him up and toss him into the back of the van.

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