Power Slide by Susan Dunlap Read Free Book Online Page A

finally got onto the eastern span of the bridge it wasn’t much better. Cars were shifting right. In the low-slung Civic I was practically sitting on the roadway; every van and SUV that cut in front of me blocked the view. If there was an accident ahead, I’d never spot it. I was almost to the toll plaza before I saw the smoke spreading up, coming from the Port of Oakland.
    Omigod, fire! No wonder he hadn’t answered the phone.
    Was it anywhere near his truck? Too hard to tell.
    The van in front of me slammed on its brakes. I swung left inches in front of a truck and kept moving. The fire looked huge.
    The port’s loaded with imports—cloth, plastics, stuff that’ll burn.
    At the gateway, I waved my production company card as I raced through. Sirens blared, but I ignored them, and the smoke, too. I didn’t look at the plume. Instead I kept my eyes down, retracing the route I’d taken yesterday. It didn’t matter where the fire was; all I cared about now was Guthrie.
    A giant red fire truck swung around me. I hadn’t even heard its siren in all the distraction of my panic. The smoke turned thicker. I could barely see anything but the fire engine’s flashing lights. It swung left onto the pier. Our pier.
    I stared in horror as it raced to the burning white mass—a big light-colored eighteen-wheeler. Guthrie’s ride.

    A police car came out of nowhere, blocking me. Red lights flashed.
    “Get that car out of here!” It was a bull-horned voice. “Back up! Now!”
    “Guthrie!” All I could do was scream his name.
    The cop jumped out, instantly in my face. “Back up!”
    “My friend!” I pointed to the burning truck.
    “There’s no-one—nothing—in there. Nothing but gas. Understand?”
    I got it. No one could be alive in a fire like that. If he was—but he wouldn’t have been. No way! “He’s not there!” I said aloud. “Not there.”
    Before the cop could shout at me again, I shifted into reverse and shot back up the pier.
    Something was behind me! I braked with a screech mere feet in front of a big white truck cab.
    This was Guthrie’s truck! Thank God! I jumped out and raced for the cab door. “Guthrie!” I pulled myself up to look through the window. “Guthrie!”
    The cab was empty.
    I raked my pocket for the key.
    Behind me the cop was yelling.
    Where was Guthrie? Was he in the back? I blinked hard against the smoke. “Guthrie! Are you in here?”
    I felt for the flashlight beside the door, sprayed the room with the light. Empty.“What the hell are you doing?” a fireman yelled. “We got a blaze to fight here. It’s moving this way. You’re blocking our access. Get your truck out of here or we’re going to push it off the pier!”
    It’s not my truck! I don’t know how to get the damn thing in gear! I said, “Yessir!”
    I jumped into the driver’s seat, balled up a jacket I found, and crammed it behind my back so I could reach the pedals. Then I switched on the
engine. My heart was hammering against my ribs. Turn the wheel wrong in a truck and you’re sunk. I could barely breathe. Think!
    Another fire engine swung around to my left. The sirens reverberated off the building on one side and the huge cargo ship on the other. Think!
    Where was Guthrie?
    Focus! The truck!
    In the gag, he’d driven the truck around the corner, but I didn’t have to do that. I just needed to back out straight.
    Tentatively, I shifted and very slowly let out the clutch.
    The truck inched forward.
    I slammed on the brake. Too hard. I stared at the gear stick. That had to be reverse. Had to! I shifted again, let out the clutch again. The truck jolted backwards.
    What was behind me? Where was the rearview? I checked the side mirror and inched the truck backward, clutching the wheel as hard as I could.
    Sirens screamed. The guy was yelling again. I didn’t have time for him. I let the clutch out a little more.
    He yelled louder. “What the hell are you doing with my truck?”
    I concentrated on the