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Back We Were Killers Once Save as PDF
Chapters (65)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright Notice
  3. Dedication
  4. One
  5. Two
  6. Three
  7. Four
  8. Five
  9. Six
  10. Seven
  11. Eight
  12. Nine
  13. Ten
  14. Eleven
  15. Twelve
  16. Thirteen
  17. Fourteen
  18. Fifteen
  19. Sixteen
  20. Seventeen
  21. Eighteen
  22. Nineteen
  23. Twenty
  24. Twenty–one
  25. Twenty–two
  26. Twenty–three
  27. Twenty–four
  28. Twenty–five
  29. Twenty–six
  30. Twenty–seven
  31. Twenty–eight
  32. Twenty–nine
  33. Thirty
  34. Thirty–one
  35. Thirty–two
  36. Thirty–three
  37. Thirty–four
  38. Thirty–five
  39. Thirty–six
  40. Thirty–seven
  41. Thirty–eight
  42. Thirty–nine
  43. Forty
  44. Forty–one
  45. Forty–two
  46. Forty–three
  47. Forty–four
  48. Forty–five
  49. Forty–six
  50. Forty–seven
  51. Forty–eight
  52. Forty–nine
  53. Fifty
  54. Fifty–one
  55. Fifty–two
  56. Fifty–three
  57. Fifty–four
  58. Fifty–five
  59. Fifty–six
  60. Fifty–seven
  61. Author’s Note
  62. Acknowledgments
  63. Also by Becky Masterman
  64. About the Author
  65. Newsletter Sign-up

I had already put the car in its lowest gear when I downshifted on the fly, and couldn’t brake the engine itself any more than it was already. Except for some real fancy driving, the only other thing I could do was to roll all the windows down and create some wind resistance. Fat lot of help that would do, but I pressed the button anyway.

And kept on. One curve after another, taking them at speeds far exceeding the limit but thank God for the sporty chassis that kept my center of gravity as low to the ground as possible. You’re halfway there, Quinn. Just focus. And hope this thing can still hug the road doing forty miles an hour on a hairpin turn. Just as I thought that, the tires squealed as if the car itself was expressing its doubt.

Jesus, it was cold with the windows down and the air rushing in.

I rounded the next turn and was beginning to congratulate my reflexes, which hadn’t slowed as much as I might have feared, even if I had left my heart about a half mile back.

Then I picked up the reflection of some taillights not far enough ahead of me.

Closing in rapidly, I honked and kept on honking. If you’re just aware that I’m here, I thought, and can see that I’m barreling down on you like a maniac, maybe you’ll understand what’s happening, turn your own lights on, speed up just a little …

Nope, it’s an astronomy geek who has no idea I’m in trouble. Thinks I’m a crazy who in addition to the reckless driving has no regard for the rules about keeping your headlights off and not polluting the mountain with light. I was not only going to have to keep my car on the side of the mountain, I was going to have to pass this idiot by switching to the outside lane. Please let it be on a swing to the left.

Nope, swing to the right.

Please let there be guardrails on this stretch.

Nope, no guardrails. I felt my car skid on the dirt followed by a sensation that the back wheels were swinging over nothing. My stomach followed. At this rate if I survived I wouldn’t have any organs left. I gunned the motor and the front tires caught hard and kept catching. The back wheels followed suit.

Some vestige of my mind made me unclick my seat belt on one short straightaway, and then crack my door on the next. If I was going to go over the edge, this way I’d have a chance of jumping to a less certain death rather than going down with the vehicle. It’s what you do when you’re descending on an eight percent grade with multiple switchbacks and no brakes.