-1-
“Doesn’t it feel like it’s sucking you right in?!”
Don had to shout over the rumble of the westbound trucks that shot past us at speeds well above the limit.
“Yeah,” I shouted back. Even twenty feet away, the wind and force of those big rigs was something to feel. I’d forgotten how powerful they were. I hadn’t walked the shortcut to the mall in ages. It was mostly used by kids who weren’t old enough to drive. Ever since Don had started dating Jennie, he and I really hadn’t done much of anything together. Maybe I was trying to recapture some of the old times by going this way instead of taking the car.
“Gets the blood pumping,” Don said. He stopped walking and turned toward the chain-link fence that ran along the top of the ridge.
I had no idea what he meant. Trucks and noise didn’t do anything for my blood. But I stopped, too. Another truck shot past, blowing my hair, catching at my shirt. Between the trucks, packs of cars and vans wove across six lanes of black asphalt—three lanes eastbound, three westbound, with a low divider in the middle.
“Hard to believe all those people have somewhere they need to go,” I said. It wasn’t rush hour yet, but that didn’t matter on this stretch. The road was always busy.
“There’s a pattern,” Don said. He stepped closer to the fence. “See it?”
I watched the traffic for a minute. “Nope. I just see a lot of people going east, and a lot of others going west. What kind of pattern?”
Don didn’t answer.
Instead, he climbed the fence and hopped down on the other side.
“Where’re you going?” That was a strange thing for him to do. But I wasn’t worried. Don was the most cautious person on the planet. He even washed his fruit, for God’s sake. He buckled his seat belt when he was moving his car from the driveway to the garage. He was Mister Careful.
“Right across, man. I’m going right across. It’s all in the timing.” His voice sounded flat and far away. Another truck blew by, drowning Don’s next words.
“Stop kidding around.” A ripple of worry surged through my guts. “Come on. Let’s get going.” I moved closer to the fence. But it was silly to worry. Whatever Don was doing, I knew he wouldn’t go down the hill and step onto that highway. I would have bet anything on that.
I would have lost.
“Here I go,” Don screamed. He let out a whoop and took off.
“No!” I grabbed the fence, frozen. Beneath my fingers, the metal vibrated from the rumble of the traffic.
Below, Don was crossing the interstate. I had no idea why he was doing it. He ran straight for the other side, speeding up or slowing down a bit as he went, lane by lane, across one of the busiest strips of road in the state. It was almost like some damned video game. Horns blared all over the place. The scream of tires tore through the air as drivers slammed on their brakes, though there wasn’t a prayer that any of them could stop that quickly. A white Taurus nearly ran off the shoulder as it swerved around Don. A red Camaro, the driver holding a phone to his ear, blew past Don, inches from his back, never slowing.
Don hurdled the center barrier without pausing, just getting out of the way of a black Nissan wagon. His shirt rippled from the wind as the wagon passed him. There was nothing in the fast lane. He jogged through the middle lane only seconds after a Mustang shot by, tires squealing, leaving twin tracks of rubber on the road. Don reached the slow lane, still looking straight ahead.
He nearly made it.
Maybe, just maybe, he would have been okay if it had been a car that ended his run. A car might have just cost him a few months in a cast if the driver had braked hard enough and fast enough. Maybe. But it was a truck that hit Don. I suspect the driver didn’t even feel the jolt. Don sure as hell felt the jolt. Standing on the other side, clutching the fence, even I could feel the jolt.
– End Chapter One –
