Read Online Countdown to Terror by Franklin W. Dixon - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Franklin W. Dixon
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metal bar sticking out of the side of the decaying mass. Once it had been a controlling lever, but now it was just a foot-long piece of garbage, held on by rust.
As Frank ran past, he grabbed the bar and heaved. It came off almost too easily, making him stumble.
The car veered after him. As it approached, Frank was caught in the glare from its headlights. He swung around, whipping the metal bar at the car.
His weapon flew true, working even better than he'd expected. It shuddered along the car's hood, leaving a long, jagged scratch, and then it smacked into the windshield, cracking it into a hundred tiny lines.
The little car veered wildly as the driver screamed something. Frank grinned. The guy jammed on the brakes, actually stopping the car so he could lean out the window to take a shot at Frank.
While the driver's friend hauled him back in, Frank tried to increase the distance between them.
In the meantime, Joe and Shauna were running for the warehouse. It was up to Frank to keep the bad guys' attention on himself so they could make it.
The driver was back in the car now, and he had only one thing in mind — to run Frank Hardy down. The scary thing was, his aim was good.
The little car's engine was gunned, and suddenly it seemed to roar at twice its size.
Fortunately, Frank had a better turning radius than it had. He jumped to the side, and started running back to the rusted-out machinery.
The driver jammed on the brakes, sent the car spinning wildly in a tight turn, and came after him again. Apparently, he wanted to turn Frank into a large oil spot on the pavement.
Frank dodged again, away from the machinery this time, but the car plowed on in a straight line. The driver had misjudged the angles a little. His right fender caught and scraped on the rusted mass, letting out a hideous screech.
Frank paid no attention, running for a trailer someone had parked beside the redbrick warehouse. It would give Frank lots of room to maneuver and hide behind — if he lived to make it there.
Behind him, Frank heard the car scream to life again, and the driver continued his game of cat and mouse. He was sure to blow out his engine if he kept driving that way. Maybe, though, the driver felt that would be okay, if he could just run Frank down.
Legs pumping, Frank risked a look over his shoulder. The car was aimed straight at him. He looked ahead. That trailer was too far — Frank knew he couldn't outrun the little monster. He'd have to dodge. Last time, he'd dodged left. This time he'd go right.
From the sound, Frank knew the car had blown its muffler. It now sounded like a racing machine as it thundered on. Frank glanced back again. How could he have thought of that car as small? It was huge—and only twenty feet behind him!
He faked left, then dove right. The driver hooked his car left, missed Frank, and went into a hair-raising skid as he jammed on the brakes and his wheels locked.
Frank leapt to his feet and ran like a maniac. The car was now in a position to cut him off. All that mistreatment must be affecting the car's handling, Frank hoped.
He refused to look at the car, concentrating only on the trailer ahead. But his side vision caught the movement of the car. It was zooming straight for him.
He stepped into a pothole he couldn't see because it was so dark and he fell.
It was a lucky fall. If he'd gone two steps farther, he'd have been right in the path of the speeding car.
It fishtailed through another crazy U-turn to come back. Frank had barely enough time to get up and throw himself to safety under the trailer before the car flew past him again.
This time, instead of screaming into another turn, the car screeched to a jerky stop, and two guys got out. Frank wondered if they really wanted to catch him or if they were just afraid of their friend's driving.
Well, he couldn't stay there and let the ground troops drive him out of cover. While the guys were still getting out of the car, Frank sprinted for
As Frank ran past, he grabbed the bar and heaved. It came off almost too easily, making him stumble.
The car veered after him. As it approached, Frank was caught in the glare from its headlights. He swung around, whipping the metal bar at the car.
His weapon flew true, working even better than he'd expected. It shuddered along the car's hood, leaving a long, jagged scratch, and then it smacked into the windshield, cracking it into a hundred tiny lines.
The little car veered wildly as the driver screamed something. Frank grinned. The guy jammed on the brakes, actually stopping the car so he could lean out the window to take a shot at Frank.
While the driver's friend hauled him back in, Frank tried to increase the distance between them.
In the meantime, Joe and Shauna were running for the warehouse. It was up to Frank to keep the bad guys' attention on himself so they could make it.
The driver was back in the car now, and he had only one thing in mind — to run Frank Hardy down. The scary thing was, his aim was good.
The little car's engine was gunned, and suddenly it seemed to roar at twice its size.
Fortunately, Frank had a better turning radius than it had. He jumped to the side, and started running back to the rusted-out machinery.
The driver jammed on the brakes, sent the car spinning wildly in a tight turn, and came after him again. Apparently, he wanted to turn Frank into a large oil spot on the pavement.
Frank dodged again, away from the machinery this time, but the car plowed on in a straight line. The driver had misjudged the angles a little. His right fender caught and scraped on the rusted mass, letting out a hideous screech.
Frank paid no attention, running for a trailer someone had parked beside the redbrick warehouse. It would give Frank lots of room to maneuver and hide behind — if he lived to make it there.
Behind him, Frank heard the car scream to life again, and the driver continued his game of cat and mouse. He was sure to blow out his engine if he kept driving that way. Maybe, though, the driver felt that would be okay, if he could just run Frank down.
Legs pumping, Frank risked a look over his shoulder. The car was aimed straight at him. He looked ahead. That trailer was too far — Frank knew he couldn't outrun the little monster. He'd have to dodge. Last time, he'd dodged left. This time he'd go right.
From the sound, Frank knew the car had blown its muffler. It now sounded like a racing machine as it thundered on. Frank glanced back again. How could he have thought of that car as small? It was huge—and only twenty feet behind him!
He faked left, then dove right. The driver hooked his car left, missed Frank, and went into a hair-raising skid as he jammed on the brakes and his wheels locked.
Frank leapt to his feet and ran like a maniac. The car was now in a position to cut him off. All that mistreatment must be affecting the car's handling, Frank hoped.
He refused to look at the car, concentrating only on the trailer ahead. But his side vision caught the movement of the car. It was zooming straight for him.
He stepped into a pothole he couldn't see because it was so dark and he fell.
It was a lucky fall. If he'd gone two steps farther, he'd have been right in the path of the speeding car.
It fishtailed through another crazy U-turn to come back. Frank had barely enough time to get up and throw himself to safety under the trailer before the car flew past him again.
This time, instead of screaming into another turn, the car screeched to a jerky stop, and two guys got out. Frank wondered if they really wanted to catch him or if they were just afraid of their friend's driving.
Well, he couldn't stay there and let the ground troops drive him out of cover. While the guys were still getting out of the car, Frank sprinted for
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