Warning! Do Not Read This Story! by Robert T. Jeschonek Read Free Book Online

years in the movies--two Oscars and a portable fortress of solitude that follows me wherever I go. More money than I can count and less happiness than the scabbiest bum in that city out there.
    That's what I was thinking as I hung there, waiting for the call. The next scene.
    And then the clock ran out.
    "Action!"
    As the word came over my earpiece, the helicopter surged forward. I swung back on the cable as if I were riding a flying trapeze.
    "Okay...okay..." D.X. was watching, timing my next cue. "Aaaand...gun up!"
    Gripping the cable tightly with one hand, I raised the Smith and Wesson with the other. As the helicopter zoomed toward the pier, I aimed the barrel at the belly of the aircraft.
    Clenching my jaw, I jerked the gun around as if I were fighting to get a bead. For the benefit of the distant cameras, I made the movements bigger than they had to be.
    The helicopter charged ahead. We were coming up fast on the pier, on the end of the line.
    "Stand by, Stag," D.X. said in my ear. "Just a few more seconds..."
    I continued to jerk the gun, trying to aim at the pilot...but I couldn't get a clear line of sight from my angle below and behind the aircraft. Then, the helicopter lunged to one side, swinging me out wide, and I finally had it.
    The shot. The gun-sight was lined up with the pilot's helmeted head.
    At that exact second, you-know-who barked in my you-know-what. "Fire! Fire! Fire!"
    I hesitated for a heartbeat, as if I could sense that this was the tipping point. As if I knew deep down that this would be the last normal second of my life.
    And then my finger squeezed the trigger.
    The sound of the blast roared in my ears. The recoil spun me around like a pinwheel in a tornado. As I spun, I saw the glass of the cockpit shatter, and the pilot's head buck forward in a blossom of red.
    And I knew instantly, without the slightest doubt.
    That gun was not firing blanks.
    I spun like a stone on a string and pinched my eyes shut against the dizziness. Instantly dropping the gun, I clamped both hands on the cable.
    D.X. dropped the F-bomb five times in a row in my earpiece. "Oh my God! What happened up there?"
    But his voice didn't matter much to me. I was too busy hanging on as the helicopter lurched out of control. It pitched from side to side, then seemed to stabilize for an instant.
    Just before it bolted hard left and plunged toward the water.
    "He's going down!" said D.X., as if I needed the running commentary.
    Snapping my eyes open, I saw the glittering surface of the East River spinning toward me as the helicopter spiraled out of the sky. It was coming up fast.
    Things looked bad for me, but my mind still raced, straining for a plan.
    "Get the rescue crew out there!" said D.X. "Hang on, Stag!"
    I decided to do the opposite. Maybe I'd stand a better chance if I jumped clear instead of being pulled in with the wreckage.
    Reaching under my shirt and into my pants, I released the wires from the safety harness. They sprang away from me like snipped piano wires.
    So now only the single cable tethered me to the helicopter as it spiraled downward. And I had only seconds to leap free of the whole mess.
    I whipped around on that cord like a tail behind the falling aircraft, waiting for the best moment to move. The lower the better, I thought; the lower I jumped, the less likely I'd be to pancake on the water's surface.
    "Goodbye, Stag!" said D.X. "I'm sorry this happened!"
    Just before the helicopter hit, I let go of the cable and tried to dive free. But I forgot something.
    "Good luck!" said D.X. "Good luck on the other side!"
    The stirrups clipped to my feet.
    Instead of jumping free, I flipped forward, caught by the stirrups. Hanging upside-down, I saw the chopper break the river's surface below me.
    The helicopter dove, but its momentum was cut by the splashdown. The cord leashed to it snapped me forward like a pebble in a slingshot, pitching me at the water.
    Time seemed to slow down as I rocketed toward the roiling