Primal Threat - Earl Emerson [38]
After the straight section came a sharp bend to the right, and while the road on this section was bare rock, there were still areas with gravel and smaller loose rocks that could cause a loss of control. To make matters worse, the steep corner was off camber, which would conspire to throw the contestants toward a scree studded with old stumps. It was from this corner that one had an unobstructed view out over the rolling hills toward Seattle and south toward North Bend.
Past the corner, the road had more curves in it and some gravel, but the grades were less threatening. At the bottom it turned into a chute that flattened out for eighty yards as it crossed the intersection and fed onto the bridge. Zak figured whoever got around the first sharp, off-camber corner with the most speed would take it.
“I figure it the same way,” said Giancarlo at the starting line.
“You going to win?”
“I don’t know.” Giancarlo grinned, and the dimples in his cheeks deepened. “I’ve never seen him drive a truck.”
Twenty feet away Scooter and Fred were whooping over the roar of the Ford’s motor while Chuck spoke to Kasey on a two-way Motorola walkie-talkie.
Nadine came alongside Zak. “Zak, this is too dangerous. Tell him it’s too dangerous, Lindsey.”
Her girlfriend looked wide-eyed at Zak and said, “I kind of want to see it. I mean, a thousand dollars.”
“Oh, honestly, Lindsey.”
“Giancarlo knows what he’s doing,” said Zak.
After Chuck drew a line across the road with a stick, the truck and bicycle lined up on it. Chuck pressed the button on the walkie-talkie in his massive hand and said, “Everything ready at the bottom of the hill?”
“Ready.”
“Everything ready up here?” Chuck asked. Now that they were up against it, Zak could see that Giancarlo was jittery. He hoped it was only adrenaline doing its job, because the last thing they needed was for Giancarlo to get the heebie-jeebies and crap out on one of the corners. He’d never seen Giancarlo this nervous. Not even when they were crawling into house fires during drill school.
16
“On your mark. Get set. Go!” said Chuck Finnigan, waving a makeshift flag.
Zak had been holding Giancarlo and his bicycle upright, so when the flag went down Zak gave him a good, hard shove. Giancarlo sat far back on his seat, which he’d lowered. Several of the onlookers gasped when they saw the speed he reached before the first corner. Even to Zak’s experienced eye the blinding acceleration made him look like a bullet.
“My God,” said Lindsey.
“I thought Scooter was going to win,” said Nadine in a tone that made it clear she wasn’t so sure now.
“He sure is a missile,” said Hugh.
“Wait’ll you see my brother’s goddamn truck,” said Fred.
Everybody watched Chuck as he timed the fifteen-second interval before Scooter could start. He dropped the flag a second early, and the Ford’s tires squealed. “Go! Go, you bastard!”
Shooting small chunks of rock and gravel out from the wheels, the truck spurted forward and careened down the narrow trail, slewing to the left and then to the right on the first curve, heading perilously for the far edge. For a split second Zak thought Scooter was going to veer off the road, but at the last minute he regained the proper trajectory and roared down the hill and around the corner.
Everybody sprinted through the encampment and down the trail to the escarpment, from which they would be able to see the finish line. Zak was first, arriving in time to spot Giancarlo streaking down the rutted road and disappearing from view in a blur. “Where are they?” Nadine asked, breathlessly.
“Behind those trees. Watch the bridge.” As he spoke, bicycle and