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Back The Third Brother Save as PDF
Chapters (116)
  1. Cover
  2. Also by the Author
  3. The Third Brother
  4. Copyright
  5. Dedication
  6. PART I
  7. 1
  8. 2
  9. 3
  10. 4
  11. 5
  12. 6
  13. 7
  14. 8
  15. 9
  16. 10
  17. 11
  18. 12
  19. 13
  20. 14
  21. 15
  22. 16
  23. 17
  24. 18
  25. 19
  26. 20
  27. 21
  28. 22
  29. 23
  30. 24
  31. 25
  32. 26
  33. 27
  34. 28
  35. 29
  36. 30
  37. 31
  38. 32
  39. 33
  40. 34
  41. 35
  42. 36
  43. 37
  44. 38
  45. 39
  46. 40
  47. 41
  48. 42
  49. 43
  50. 44
  51. 45
  52. 46
  53. 47
  54. 48
  55. 49
  56. 50
  57. 51
  58. 52
  59. 53
  60. 54
  61. 55
  62. 56
  63. 57
  64. 58
  65. 59
  66. PART II
  67. 60
  68. 61
  69. 62
  70. 63
  71. 64
  72. 65
  73. 66
  74. 67
  75. 68
  76. 69
  77. 70
  78. 71
  79. 72
  80. 73
  81. 74
  82. 75
  83. 76
  84. 77
  85. 78
  86. 79
  87. 80
  88. 81
  89. 82
  90. 83
  91. 84
  92. 85
  93. 86
  94. 87
  95. 88
  96. PART III
  97. 89
  98. 90
  99. 91
  100. 92
  101. 93
  102. 94
  103. 95
  104. 96
  105. 97
  106. 98
  107. 99
  108. 100
  109. 101
  110. 102
  111. 103
  112. 104
  113. 105
  114. 106
  115. 107
  116. 108

They join a wide line of bikes at the first light they don’t make. Mike looks over to the next motorcycle and sees a Thai girl. She is wearing white sweatpants and T-shirt, and long black hair hangs in a shimmer between her shoulder blades. Her complexion is dark and clear like tea. She is holding something Mike can’t quite see.

The girl suddenly catches Mike looking at her and smiles a shy, sweet smile that surprises him and snaps his head back to looking straight ahead. The light changes and the girl speeds forward, hair blowing out behind her, leading the charge of the motorcycles into the morning. As Mike catches up he sees that she is holding a naked brown baby.

When Mike sees the baby he is distracted, so he doesn’t see the crash coming.

The driver is gunning. Mike has never been on a bike like this before. It is much faster than he imagined. And then, just as the slow skid begins, Mike realizes what made him nervous about his driver. His eyes. The driver is high.

Mike tries to lean into the skid or away from it; he doesn’t know, just tries to exert some force, change it. The bike is almost scraping his leg over the cement, a razor cut from a skid and the pain of scraping to the bone. Mike wants to turn it all down, like a radio. Horns bleat, cars veer out of the way. Mike’s mind ricochets off the instant possibilities of hitting the car they just cut off or of being broadsided by another. He grits his teeth and holds on. This might be it, he thinks, for the first time in his life. It’s a sickening realization, a deep and awful nausea that he feels, death maybe, flying underneath him. And then it all stops.

On the other side of the intersection, the driver looks around as if he has lost something. He is speaking to himself in Thai and all Mike can say to him, tapping him on the shoulder, is, “Khao San Road?”

They take off again, and looking down at his pant leg, Mike sees that it did scrape, and there is blood, running in smudges, down to his ankle.

Mike’s hotel is either right here or down at the other end. He has the heady feeling of a wild night, danger that has passed. He can look anyone in the eye and tell them—I was out. I was doing something. I did not just stay in my room and watch TV the way I wanted to. I did not just cross the street and drink beer until I got sleepy. I did not just chat with backpackers or visit a temple a couple minutes from the hotel. I went out there. I talked with Hardy and saw Lucy Long Legs and almost died on a motorcycle. I went.