Ghost Ride by Marina Cohen

Author:Marina Cohen
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: JUV000000, JUV039100
ISBN: 9781770700048
Publisher: Dundurn
Published: 2009-10-19T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

The music stopped. The wind was on Sam’s face. He was flying — no, gliding. All sense of panic and desperation had evaporated. He was soaring like an eagle, awaiting the impact that never came.

One of his hands gripped the roof of the car and the other his cellphone, but wait, something had changed. Both hands were now wrapped around something completely different. What was it? Bars?

Handlebars.

Sam snapped his eyes open. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He was dreaming … dreaming or … dead.

He was no longer in a car. He was on a bike. An old bike. The one in the photo he’d taken — the Kronan. He wasn’t wearing a toque, and his arms were different. They felt like someone else’s. His clothes weren’t the same, either. He was coasting downhill in the middle of the road, all alone, heading toward a pair of headlights that were almost on top of him. Behind him he heard a sound. An engine. And there were lights, as well. Getting brighter. Another vehicle was approaching from behind.

He was trapped.

For a second time he was sure he was going to die. Only this time it didn’t seem to matter. It was all so real and yet so dreamlike, as though every move he made wasn’t his own, as if he were a stowaway in someone else’s mind and body.

Everything unfolded in slow motion.

Sam was going to be sandwiched between the two vehicles. He heard a loud, long horn blast — the vehicle behind him was a truck, an eighteen-wheeler! There was no time to think. He couldn’t pull to the right or the left. Either way he’d be hit.

He lifted his arms to shield his eyes. The bike drifted to the right. The wheel wobbled. He was going down, striking the gravel hard, skidding along the road. The exposed skin on his hands and cheek scraped across dirt and rocks. And though he could sense a layer of his skin tearing off, somehow he didn’t feel any pain. He was off the road and in the ditch. But it was too late. The damage was done.

Sam watched in horror as the truck jackknifed. The car swerved to avoid the much bigger vehicle and lost control. It went under the eighteen-wheeler in a sickening clash of metal against metal. The car was dragged under the truck until both slammed into the field on the other side of the road. Everything fell silent.

Scrambling to his feet, Sam could see that the car’s headlights were still on, slicing through the darkness. He staggered toward the wreckage. The roof of the car had been ripped off like the husk of a ripe ear of corn. The truck was on its side in the ditch. Twisted metal and broken glass lay strewn across the field. The stench of gas and oil was thick in the air.

Sam moved in closer.

Closer.

A leg was sticking out of the truck driver’s cab. The roofless car was red — some kind of big old Ford, like the kind he’d seen in his grandfather’s old photos.

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