Chain Letter by Christopher Pike Read Free Book Online

But so quickly, and so slowly, was everything
     happening that they were only pronouncing the T and had not yet moved on to the rest when he developed an alternative strategy. It
     was the exact opposite of the first one. He jerked the steering wheel to the left,
     intending to jump the irritating right edge of the road. And it worked—toowell in fact. They tore off the shoulder and plunged right off the other side of the
     road.
    “Ahhh.”
    That was pseudo-Joan in the arms of Coach Kipp, her sighs of ecstasy miraculously
     making it through the howls of the others, at least for Tony’s ears. His mind went
     right on assessing the situation and it was becoming more and more obvious it was
     time for plan X. When the roller coaster had started, he had immediately removed his
     foot from the gas, and the subsequent haggling with the shoulder of the road and the
     current cremation of the shrubs under the front fender had killed a fair percentage
     of their speed. A spinout now, so he figured, probably wouldn’t tip them over. He
     slammed his foot on the brake.
    The roar was deafening, made up of many ugly parts: burning rubber, shattering branches,
     blasting sand, screams and more screams. Tony closed his eyes—they were of no use
     anyway—and hung on for dear life.
    Twice the car began to spin, but either because of his mastery of the steering wheel
     or because of blind luck they did not go completely out of control. They were grinding
     to a halt, heaving precariously in both directions, nevertheless looking as though
     they would live to tell the tale, when they hit it.
    Soft , Tony thought, too soft.
    The blow was nothing like impacting rock or tumbleweed or cactus. It felt bigger and
     heavier and, at the same time, moredelicate. The shock wave it sent through the frame of the Maverick was one Tony would
     never forget.
    The car stopped and stalled.
    I hate driving.
    Fran and Brenda were whimpering like small scared children, the rest of them gasping
     like big scared teenagers. The air stunk with sweat and the buzz had returned to Tony’s
     head, only now it resembled more of a roar than a ring. He felt limp, the way he did
     after games against teams with three-hundred-pound defensive linemen, when every muscle
     in his body would cry not to be disturbed. The group’s collective sigh of relief hung
     in suspension; it had been too close.
    “Oh, Joan,” Coach Sager whispered, “you were born to be naked.”
    Calmly and quietly, Joan turned off the recording.
    Kipp began to laugh. It was such an outrageous thing to do that it was surprising
     no one told him to shut up. But then it began to sound, as gaiety often does in the
     worst of circumstances, strangely appropriate, and they joined in, laughing like maniacs
     for several minutes, hysterics close to weeping, the tension pouring out of them in
     loud gobs. When they were done and had caught their breaths and had thoroughly reassured
     themselves that they were alive, Tony flipped on the headlights. They were only a
     yard from the edge of the road, lined up parallel to the asphalt. Not too shabby for
     a drunk,he thought. He turned the key. The car started without a hitch.
    “Anyone hurt?” he asked. No one spoke up. “Good.” He slipped into gear, creeping onto
     the pavement. The frame was not bent, the wheels were turning free. All he wanted
     to do was get a couple of miles away before the next person spoke, to where it would
     make no sense to turn around and go back and look at . . .
    What you might have hit.
    “Don’t you want to check for damage?” Brenda asked, nestling back into her boyfriend’s
     lap.
    “No,” Kipp and Tony said simultaneously. They looked at each other, Joan sitting straight-faced
     between them, and Kipp nodded and a thousand unspoken imperative words were in the
     gesture, all of which could be summed up in a simple phrase: Let’s get the hell out of here!
    “I got to get home,” Joan said quickly. “My