The Fall Guy Read Online Free PDF Page A

who’s been driving this road since he was ten. Up ahead, the road opened up into a long straight stretch. I pressed my foot on the gas. Behind me, all was dark. I relaxed my grip.
    Suddenly the light from his high beams flooded my cab.
    Fear shot through me. The car came up on my rear, its lights wiping out everything in my wake. On either side, pastures sloped down into a gully. At the bottom, the road curved out of sight into the trees. Still the guy stuck to me. Why the hell didn’t he pass? He had plenty of room. But he sat on my bumper, his engine rumbling.
    The curve in the road rushed toward me. I was going way too fast. My heart hammered. I tried to remember how sharp the curve was and what was on the other side. Trees flashed by and branches slapped my windshield. I caught a glimpse of metal railing and remembered. Too late.
    The bridge!
    I slammed on the brakes. Fought the wheel as I tried to aim for the narrow plank track. My truck skidded. Headlights and chrome filled my rearview mirror. I felt a violent shove from behind. Heard the bang of metal on metal. Then I was flying through the air. Branches screeched along the sides of the truck. My headlights caught bits of green and silver and rock as I cartwheeled over the edge.
    It felt like a lifetime. Spinning, thumping, swooshing, before I hit the creek with a huge splash. The truck ploughed a wake through the water and shook to a stop. My engine died, my lights went out.
    I hung upside down, shaking all over. Trying to make sense of the blackness. The sound of water gurgled around me. My truck was on its roof. Water was rushing in the broken windshield. Creeping up the sides. My ponytail was flopped over my ear and dragged in the water. I reached my hand over my head. I had only a couple of inches till the water would reach my head. It was pouring in fast.
    I squirmed and twisted but found myself pinned by something pressing against my shoulder. My seatbelt, I realized finally. I groped around for the buckle. Pushed and pressed at the plastic until my fingers hit the right button and the belt burst open. I pitched headfirst into the cold dark water. At the last minute I twisted my head sideways to avoid crashing against the roof. Water closed over my mouth and rushed into my nostrils. I fought panic, flailed around in the tiny space to turn myself over. My feet hit the steering wheel, elbows cracked against the doors. Which way was up?
    By a miracle, my head popped up above the water. Pressed against the floor of the cab. I didn’t have much time. I felt for the door handle, held it and kicked the door as hard as I could. It wouldn’t budge. The water held it tight. I found the window handle and began to roll. More water poured it, almost sweeping me across the cab. I had inches of room. I remembered the car behind me, with its huge grinning lights. I took one deep, angry breath, dived down and dragged myself out the window. I got stuck halfway. Still below water, I flailed about like a fish on the line. I thought my head would burst. I kicked and shoved. The metal scraped my back as I wiggled the rest of the way out the hole. An instant later, my head came up in the silent black river.
    I hung on to the truck, gasping for air and trying to calm myself. I shook all over. Where the hell was I? I peered around in the dark to see how far I was from shore. That’s when I realized I wasn’t alone. Headlights shone through the trees and over the water. A car was rumbling slowly across the bridge. I could see nothing but the headlights, but I heard the engine stop. A door opened and footsteps crunched on the gravel. In the spooky light, I saw a shadow walk to the side of the bridge and lean over. Peer down into the water.
    Searching.
    I pulled myself along the edge of my truck out of sight and ducked as low in the water as I could. Barely breathed. The lights from the car made long shadows, hiding me.
    After what seemed like hours, the footsteps