After his piss and washing his hands, Curly hangs back for a moment; long enough not to draw suspicion from the others. He was overreacting, but sometimes he liked overreacting. It kept his mind alert.
Curly counted to ten before stepping out of the bathroom. The sun blindsided him. He shielded his face and shut his eyes from the brightness, stopping. He gave his eyes a moment to adjust. He walked across the gas station lot towards the garage, shielding his face from the sun. The light was still hurting him and it worried him that his eyes were becoming sensitive.
Curly Shepard's mind was too focused on seeing straight to hear tires screeching behind him. His entire body hardened. This was the moment he always feared and hated. The moment when his mind reacted too slowly to his subconscious instincts and he was felt opened.
He swirled around the exact second three hands grabbed his shirt and pulled him into a red mustang. He heard someone screaming his name in the distance. Curly cursed, thrashed and punched with all his might, but it did little good with three Socs holding you down as the get-away-car sped off. The Soc in the passenger seat with a faded black eye turned to the prisoner. The noise was getting on his nerves. He socked Curly in the face, knocking the boy out cold.
The tragic event had no effect on the outside world. Today was a happy day.