Mulholland Dive: Three Stories Read Online Free PDF Page A

backward through the safety fence. It then went airborne and arced down, trunk first. Clewiston gripped the steering wheel as if it was still the instrument of his control and destiny. But he knew there was nothing that could help him now. There was no control.
    Looking through the windshield he saw the beams of his headlights pointing into the night sky. Out loud he said, “I’m dead.”
    The car plunged through a stand of trees, branches shearing off with a noise as loud as firecrackers. Clewiston closed his eyes for the final impact. There was a sharp roaring sound and a jarring impact. The airbag exploded from the steering wheel and snapped his neck back against his seat.
    Clewiston opened his eyes and felt liquid surrounding him and rising up his chest. He thought he had momentarily blacked out or was hallucinating. But then the water reached his neck and it was cold and real. He could see only darkness. He was in black water and it was filling the car.
    He reached down to the door and pulled on a handle but he couldn’t get the door to open. He guessed the power locks had shorted out. He tried to bring his legs up so he could kick out one of the shattered windows but his seat belt held him in place. The water was up to his chin now and rising. He quickly unsnapped his belt and tried to move again but realized the seat belt hadn’t been the only impediment. His legs—both of them—were somehow pinned beneath the steering column, which had dropped down during the impact. He tried to raise it but couldn’t get it to move an inch. He tried to squeeze out from beneath the weight but he was thoroughly pinned.
    The water was over his mouth now. By leaning his head back and raising his chin he gained an inch but that was rapidly erased by the rising tide. In less than thirty seconds the water was over him and he was holding his last breath.
    He thought about the coyote that had sent him over the side. It didn’t seem possible that what had happened had happened. A reverse cascade of bubbles leaked from his mouth and traveled upward as he cursed.
    Suddenly everything was illuminated. A bright light glowed in front of him. He leaned forward and looked out through the windshield. He saw a robed figure above the light, arms at his side.
    Clewiston knew that it was over. His lungs burned for release. It was his time. He let out all of his breath and took the water in. He journeyed toward the light.
      
    James Crossley finished tying his robe and looked down into his backyard pool. It was as if the car had literally dropped from the heavens. The brick wall surrounding the pool was undisturbed. The car had to have come in over it and then landed perfectly in the middle of the pool. About a third of the water had slopped over the side with the impact. But the car was fully submerged except for the edge of the trunk lid, which had come open during the impact. Floating on the surface was a lifelike mannequin that appeared to have been cut in half at the waist. Both top and bottom piece were dressed in military camouflage. The scene was bizarre.
    Crossley looked up toward the crest line, where he knew Mulholland Drive edged the hillside. He wondered if someone had pushed the car off the road with the mannequin behind the wheel, if this was some sort of prank.
    He then looked back down into the pool. The surface was calming and he could see the car more clearly in the beam of the pool’s light. And it was then that he thought he saw someone sitting unmoving behind the steering wheel.
    Crossley ripped his robe off and dove naked into the pool.

Two-Bagger
    T he bus was forty minutes late.
    Stilwell and Harwick waited in a six-year-old Volvo at the curb next to the McDonald’s a block from the depot. Stilwell, the driver, chose the spot because he was betting that Vachon would walk down to the McDonald’s after getting off the bus. They would begin the tail from there.
    “These guys, they been in stir four, five years, they get