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

sore hands.
    He made slow progress, but it was progress. Centimeter by centimeter, he moved higher up the woman, clamping his feet around her middle, and then her shoulders, and then finally her head.
    When he was high enough to move back onto his rope, he took a second to recover his breath and watched the corpse—more specifically, the rope around her neck. What if it snapped when he pushed off?  
    If he didn’t risk it, he’d be there all day. Three, two, one. He pushed from the woman and jumped back to his rope.  
    He made it.
    As he stood on the knot he swung more than ever, but he’d made it.  

    ***

    Michael climbed again, and when he got near the top of the rope, he felt Lola’s strong grip on the back of his jacket as she pulled him higher. He nearly gave over to it and trusted in her completely—his tired muscles desperate for the rest—but that would be stupid; she couldn’t lift him from there.  
    Shaking, his arms weak, Michael grunted one final effort as he pulled to the top.  
    Tears stung his eyes when he managed to wrap his weak grip around the cold metal railing running along the top of the wall. What little strength he had left in him all but vanished and he let Lola drag him over.
    It may have been a short fall to the ground, but that didn’t stop the jarring pain that ran through him when he hit it.
    Michael blinked for a few seconds to try to clear his blurred vision. It didn’t work and the clouds closed in.

No Rest for the Rich Kid

    When Michael opened his eyes, the stress lines left Lola’s face, and she smiled at him. “Well done, Nearly Eleven. I don’t know how you managed to get back up after that, but well done.”
    “What’s wrong?” Michael said.
    Pulling her head back, Lola frowned at him. “Huh?”
    “Something’s up. You’re being nice.”
    “I can be nice, you know.”
    Michael gave her a dead stare.  
    “Okay, fine. You’ve been lying there for about ten minutes now. We have to go. We have to get off this bridge.”
    A throbbing ache sat deep in his muscles. “I need more time.”
    After an anxious look in both directions, Lola returned her attention to him. “We don’t have any more time. Ten minutes is toomuch as it is. We’re trapped on here. If someone else comes, we’re fucked.”
    After releasing a deep sigh, Michael sat up.
    When he got to his feet, everything trembled. He rested on the side of the bridge, and the cold metal of the handrail stung the rope burns on his palms. The wind tossed his fine hair. For a moment, his world spun as he squinted to see the end of the bridge. He needed longer to rest. When Lola looked at him, he patted the handrail. “I’ll try and walk. It’ll help if I rest on this.”  
    He didn’t need to look any weaker in front of her than he already did.
    “Whatever it takes, as long as we’re walking.”
    Lola walked next to Michael as he dragged his feet in a slow trudge. His aching body loosened up with each step. It became easier to lift his legs, and his lungs took in more air. He turned to Lola and offered her a weak smile. “Thank you.”
    Lola looked at him but didn’t reply.
    “I would have let go if you weren’t there. You really helped me get back up here.”
    Lola’s laugh carried across the night. “All I did was shout at you,” she said with a twinkle in her eye. “I can do that more often, if you like.”
    “And you called me Michael while you were doing it.”
    A half smile lifted Lola’s lips. “Don’t get used to it, Nearly Eleven.”
    “I won’t, but I won’t forget it either.”
    Michael didn’t hear what Lola said when she replied—suddenly, nothing else mattered. With his stomach clamping tight and his breath quickening again, he pointed at the horizon. It took him a few seconds to find his words. “The… th… th… they’re coming back, Lola.”
    As he watched the two sets of headlights appear from the corner they’d disappeared around earlier, Michael heard Lola’s