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

at the end of the rope, a jolt snapping fire through his shoulder blades and down his back at the sudden halt. With his legs hanging, he watched the corpse hurtle toward the river. It dropped with everything pointing south. It fell like it had hung from the bridge… dangling toes, limp arms; even its face watched the water as it plummeted.
    The loud splash disappeared almost instantly. The river consumed both the corpse and the disturbance. Another casualty meant nothing for the powerful body of water.  
    As well as the searing pain in his back, the sudden halt felt like it had broken his hands, but Michael held on to the thick knot.
    As Michael swung with the other corpses in the wind he saw where the rope had snapped.  
    The break happened at the point that would have been level with the corpse’s Adam’s apple. Two separate strands, both frayed where it broke, hung loose. Even in the darkness, he could see the stain where it had snapped. It must have been where the body had started to rot around it and the juice of fleshy decay had weakened the fibers.  
    The sour tang of rot filled his senses. It may have been from the freshly snapped rope or the bodies surrounding him. It didn’t matter; it stank and he needed to get away from it. A few weeks ago, Michael had never smelled the reek of death; now it seemed like he couldn’t avoid it.  
    Still gasping from the fall, Michael’s lungs burned as he breathed in the freezing air. The rope above creaked. Please don’t let that snap too. The corpses next to him hung limp and lifeless; their downcast faces emphasizing his fate.
    A particularly strong breeze barreled down the river, catching Michael and all of those around him and pushing them in the same direction. As he flew back in toward the bridge, spinning above the water, he crashed into the body next to him. The surprisingly firm corpse released a strong stench like he’d opened a jar of rotting offal and Michael gagged; if only he could cover his nostrils.  
    He did the next best thing; he closed his eyes. If he couldn’t see the corpses, then they didn’t exist.

Wind Chime

    When Michael opened his eyes, he jumped and kicked his legs. Hanging from the end of the rope, he twisted like a fish on a line. The woman next to him had maggots crawling from her eyes. The sight seemed to heighten the fetid smell of the dead.
    After the initial panic, Michael fell limp again but kept his grip firm. The movement drained his energy. Energy he needed to get back up to the bridge.  
    Another strong breeze sent him crashing into the woman again. He could cope with that, the maggots on the other hand... a wave of repulsion snapped through him.
    Although he didn’t want to look at it, Michael kept staring at the decaying face. Tilly and his mum would have no doubt ended up looking the same if the house hadn’t burned down. Puffy, gray, and crawling with maggots, the corpse stared at him through the fleshy pits that used to be her eyes.
    “Michael.”
    Michael looked up at Lola.  
    “You did great, kiddo, now find some strength and climb back up. You’ve done the hard bit. You’ve held on.”
    The action of tilting his head back to see Lola sent him swinging, and he crashed into the maggot-ridden corpse yet again. The dead woman continued to stare at him.  
    Michael stared back at the hideous creature and said, “Fuck you.”
    “Fuck me?” Lola said. “What have I done?”
    He didn’t bother explaining; she’d work it out. Michael yelled from the effort of swinging his feet forward and clamped them onto the woman’s hips in front of him. If he hadn’t crashed into her so many times, he may have feared the rotten corpse would also crumble and fall from the rope. He’d felt her hard body against his too many times to believe that now.
    Sharp aches streaked up the inside of Michael’s thighs as he tightened his grip with his legs. It took enough of his weight off for him to pull himself up the rope with his