stomach knotted. The horn had to be an eighteen-wheeler. A second later, he saw the rig emerge from the fog like a huge phantom. Carolyn, acting unfazed, continued on a straight course, unable to pass the car to their right. She sped forward as though playing a game against the forty-ton machine.
“Look, Lou,” she called out, still surprisingly calm though her voice had an anxious edge. “The car three ahead of us. Its left taillight is out. Someone’s going to get killed unless we warn them. There’s been enough death today.”
“Carolyn, let it be! Slow down. Please, slow down!”
The car boxing them in accelerated. Lou reached across his seat and took hold of the wheel, pulling it clockwise, aware that the move might well cause Carolyn to lose control.
“Lou, don’t do that! I have to warn him!”
The tires slipped several feet, then gained purchase, pulling them into the right-hand lane. Lou released the wheel. The car shuddered and rose on two tires. There was a ferocious crack as the rig sheared off the left-side mirror. The rush of wind as it flew past was probably all that kept them from flipping over.
“Okay, now, Carolyn,” Lou said with as much insistence as urgency. “Pull over there and let me drive.”
Again she leaned on the accelerator and the horn. “In this fog, somebody is going to ram into the back of them.”
“Carolyn, don’t!”
She turned the wheel right this time, attempting to pass the intervening car via a narrow, muddy soft shoulder. Lou sat pressed against his seat back, unwilling to grab at the wheel again. The speedometer moved upward.
Forty.
Fifty.
Fifty-five.
Carolyn Meacham looked purposefully ahead, beyond reason.
“Carolyn, stop!” Lou screamed. “You’re going to kill us both because a guy’s taillight is out!”
They raced even with the car to their left. The driver leaned on his horn and refused to slow down.
Lou could feel the high center of gravity in the SUV threaten to flip them. Every jolt on the uneven ground seemed magnified.
“They’re just two cars ahead.”
Patches of fog flew past like ghosts. Then, Lou froze. Through one of the patches, directly in front of them, a speed limit sign had appeared.
“Carolyn!” he shouted. “Get back into your lane! Do it now!”
Instinctively, Lou clenched his teeth and readied himself for impact. They were going sixty.
Lou couldn’t hold back. He leaned as far to the left as his seat belt would allow, grabbed the wheel, and pushed it counterclockwise. The Volvo skidded into a left turn and fell behind the car Carolyn had been trying to pass. Perhaps instinctively, she slammed on the brakes. The front two tires dragged along the grassy shoulder, kicking up dirt and rocks. The sign slammed into the hood and sheared off, vanishing upward into the mist. Then, in a full spin, the car left the road. Lou saw a tree materialize from the fog. He shut his eyes tightly and raised his arms to his face for protection. The impact wasn’t as violent as he had expected.
Lou’s head snapped against the window beside him as the Volvo spun viciously. Splintered glass exploded into his face and cut his neck. The rear of the Volvo was still in the center of the road. Then, without warning, the coaster ride was over.
“Carolyn, are you all right?” he said, wiping at his forehead and seeing blood on his hand.
“Did you see that?” she asked him, her breathing not far from normal. “Did you?”
“You mean the taillight?”
“Yes, the taillight. Drivers never fix them until the vehicle-inspection people tell them they have to. That guy could have caused an accident.”
CHAPTER 10
Throughout most of the bizarre chase to overtake the driver with one working taillight, Lou remained in what he called “emergency calm”—a state of heightened awareness and preparedness, cloaked in an external composure. It was a reaction to crisis shared by those caregivers whose business often revolved around sudden changes
“Look, Lou,” she called out, still surprisingly calm though her voice had an anxious edge. “The car three ahead of us. Its left taillight is out. Someone’s going to get killed unless we warn them. There’s been enough death today.”
“Carolyn, let it be! Slow down. Please, slow down!”
The car boxing them in accelerated. Lou reached across his seat and took hold of the wheel, pulling it clockwise, aware that the move might well cause Carolyn to lose control.
“Lou, don’t do that! I have to warn him!”
The tires slipped several feet, then gained purchase, pulling them into the right-hand lane. Lou released the wheel. The car shuddered and rose on two tires. There was a ferocious crack as the rig sheared off the left-side mirror. The rush of wind as it flew past was probably all that kept them from flipping over.
“Okay, now, Carolyn,” Lou said with as much insistence as urgency. “Pull over there and let me drive.”
Again she leaned on the accelerator and the horn. “In this fog, somebody is going to ram into the back of them.”
“Carolyn, don’t!”
She turned the wheel right this time, attempting to pass the intervening car via a narrow, muddy soft shoulder. Lou sat pressed against his seat back, unwilling to grab at the wheel again. The speedometer moved upward.
Forty.
Fifty.
Fifty-five.
Carolyn Meacham looked purposefully ahead, beyond reason.
“Carolyn, stop!” Lou screamed. “You’re going to kill us both because a guy’s taillight is out!”
They raced even with the car to their left. The driver leaned on his horn and refused to slow down.
Lou could feel the high center of gravity in the SUV threaten to flip them. Every jolt on the uneven ground seemed magnified.
“They’re just two cars ahead.”
Patches of fog flew past like ghosts. Then, Lou froze. Through one of the patches, directly in front of them, a speed limit sign had appeared.
“Carolyn!” he shouted. “Get back into your lane! Do it now!”
Instinctively, Lou clenched his teeth and readied himself for impact. They were going sixty.
Lou couldn’t hold back. He leaned as far to the left as his seat belt would allow, grabbed the wheel, and pushed it counterclockwise. The Volvo skidded into a left turn and fell behind the car Carolyn had been trying to pass. Perhaps instinctively, she slammed on the brakes. The front two tires dragged along the grassy shoulder, kicking up dirt and rocks. The sign slammed into the hood and sheared off, vanishing upward into the mist. Then, in a full spin, the car left the road. Lou saw a tree materialize from the fog. He shut his eyes tightly and raised his arms to his face for protection. The impact wasn’t as violent as he had expected.
Lou’s head snapped against the window beside him as the Volvo spun viciously. Splintered glass exploded into his face and cut his neck. The rear of the Volvo was still in the center of the road. Then, without warning, the coaster ride was over.
“Carolyn, are you all right?” he said, wiping at his forehead and seeing blood on his hand.
“Did you see that?” she asked him, her breathing not far from normal. “Did you?”
“You mean the taillight?”
“Yes, the taillight. Drivers never fix them until the vehicle-inspection people tell them they have to. That guy could have caused an accident.”
CHAPTER 10
Throughout most of the bizarre chase to overtake the driver with one working taillight, Lou remained in what he called “emergency calm”—a state of heightened awareness and preparedness, cloaked in an external composure. It was a reaction to crisis shared by those caregivers whose business often revolved around sudden changes
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