Crash III: There's No Place Like Home by Michael Robertson Read Free Book Online

he hung on tight enough to halt his fall.
    With his legs hanging and the dead nose of the female corpse pressed into Michael’s crotch, a slow shiver rolled through him. Using what little strength he had, he pulled his knees up to his chest and placed his feet on the thing’s shoulders. It burned his thighs but Michael stood up again, grimacing through the pain.
    With his footing sure, he took a moment to catch his breath.  
    The cold and rough rope offered little comfort for his now throbbing palms. Although he clenched his jaw, it did little to stop him from shaking as he watched the two vehicles speed off the bridge.  
    He could see them clearly now, but they probably couldn’t see him. To them, he and Lola were just two of many bodies. Copying Lola, he remained as still as possible.

    ***

    A few minutes after the vehicles had disappeared, Michael looked across at Lola. “Should we climb back up now?” Not that he had the strength or inclination to do it.
    Lola tilted her head back and looked up. “Yep, let’s do this.”
    It looked easy when Lola pushed off from her corpse and shimmied up the rope. Drained from his fall, Michael tried to do the same, crossing his shins to pinch the rope between the outside of each foot.
    Fire burned through his knuckles as he pulled himself up. Regardless of how bad it felt, he had to get to the top. He had to keep going.  
    Lola had already made it halfway.
    When Lola reached up to the metal railing and pulled herself over, Michael lost even more strength. He looked down at the dark river again, which didn’t help.  
    He had to snap out of it. It didn’t matter what Lola was doing. It only mattered that he needed to be at the top of the rope.  
    Every muscle in his body strained and ached as if tearing. When he glanced down again, he saw the corpse swinging and flapping around from his struggle.  
    “Come on, Nearly Eleven, you’re almost there. Grab my hand.” Lola reached over and held a hand out to him.
    The gap was too great for him to reach.
    Pausing, he took deep breaths to regroup. With a loud grunt, he resumed his climb.
    Then he slipped.  
    When he caught himself again, he looked up at Lola. She’d visibly feared the worst too.
    “Come on, Nearly Eleven,” she said. “You can do it.”
    When he tried to push up with his feet, the rope slipped through them again. “I can’t, Lola. I can’t do it. The rope’s too slippery.”
    Leaning farther down, Lola stretched out to him. “Come on, keep climbing.”
    What little strength he had drained from his limbs as he tried to push on, and he couldn’t get a grip on the icy rope.
    After another small slip, Lola shouted, “Grip tighter.”
    “What do you think I’m trying to do?”
    The rope slipped through his grip again and he fell another few inches. “I can’t do it.” When he shouted up, his voice cracked. “Help me, Lola. Help me.”
    Michael watched Lola flap an arm in his direction. “I can’t reach that far.”
    The dark river below looked like blood. The corpse shook violently on the end of the rope like the last of its life was thrashing from it. He had nothing left to give. “Help me, Lola.”
    Then he slipped again.

Greasy Pole

    Panic battered Michael’s insides as if it were a beast trying to escape. It worsened with every inch he slipped. The cold air had turned the rope into a greasy pole. A scream threatened to burst from his lungs, but he kept it in. The men may be out of sight, but in the near silent night, his cries would carry like a church’s bell.
    He slipped again and the rope between his legs pulled his trousers up. It burned his shins as well as his palms.  
    “Michael,” Lola called down to him.  
    Unable to look up, Michael slipped again. His feet now rested on the head of the corpse. A groan shuddered through the rope only seconds before a crack rang out as it snapped. Michael’s stomach lurched as both he and the corpse fell.

Snap

    Michael caught the thick knot