The Fall Guy by Barbara Fradkin Page B

but breathing. Then “What the fuck?”
    â€œWhat is it?” Bethany whispered.
    â€œIt’s…” Daniel’s voice was puzzled. “I don’t know. Goddamn it, it’s some kind of fucking bug!”
    â€œA bug!” Bethany shrieked. “You mean, someone—?”
    â€œSh-h!!” Daniel’s voice dropped to a whisper. I ducked my head and held my breath. Slowly they began to walk again. Toward me. I could hardly see them in the weak light of the stars, but I could hear their footsteps. Coming along the edge of the road like they were looking in the bushes.
    â€œWe need a flashlight,” Daniel said. Practical guy, this Daniel. Bethany was the one with the emotion. “You keep an eye while I get one.” He turned to head back.
    â€œDon’t leave me here!”
    â€œOh, for fuck’s sake! It’s your fault we’re in this mess. Your fault, Bethany! Own it, for once.”
    I heard her scurrying after him. He seemed to give up the fight, and they both disappeared into the house.
    I scrambled back out of the bushes. I figured I had at most a minute before they found a flashlight and came back. I ran down the rest of the lane, not caring how much noise I made. Found my bike, dragged it out onto the road and shoved the recorder into the backpack. I started to run, pushing the dirt bike and hoping it would catch. Finally, I heard the weak, sputtering sound. Louder, more regular. Then the engine flared to life. Noisy as hell. I heard shouts behind me, heard the sounds of car doors slamming before it was all drowned out by the sound of a jet plane and the wind in my ears.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN
    I ’d driven this road lots of times in the past month, so I knew every turn and pothole. The dirt bike was nimble. Much nimbler than a huge old Ford with no shocks. But the Ford had power to spare on the straight stretches, and just when I thought I’d lost them, they roared back into the game. I heard the thunder of the broken muffler as they floored it. I opened up the bike’s throttle and hung on to the handlebars, praying like hell the bald tires would hold.
    I kept my lead on the twisty back roads, but the highway was coming up ahead. It had smooth pavement and long straight parts. My thoughts raced. What other choices did I have? The bike could handle off-road, but the tires might not. If I got stuck or flipped it, I’d be a sitting duck. I didn’t want to think about what they might do. They were kids who’d gotten in over their heads, but that made them even more dangerous. Blowing up my propane tanks?
    A few houses flashed by, with lights glowing in windows. I thought of running inside, but there might be children. Old people. I couldn’t put more people in danger. I was amazed how clearly I figured that out through my panic. I needed the police. The cop station was a good five miles away once I reached the main highway. Five miles was way too far if I wanted to stay alive. Think! Think!
    Then I remembered. Up ahead there was an old logging road that led to the edge of Silver Creek. Once there had been a log bridge across the creek for people to walk across. On the other side, the logging road continued and met up with the highway about a mile from the station. As a kid, I used to play on the road with my bike, replacing the logs as they rotted. But that was a long time ago. Could I get through? Would it kill my engine?
    Behind me, the Ford’s headlights grew huge.
    If not for those headlights, I would have missed the turnoff. It was overgrown with weeds and brush. I leaned hard, put my foot down and swerved onto the track. Branches whipped my face and stung my eyes. I jolted and slid, fighting to hang on. I heard the Ford shoot past the turn, slide to a stop and back up. A moment later, headlights flooded the track. Damn, they were going to try it!
    The middle of the track was overgrown with tall weeds that hit my legs as I raced