Read Online Tremor by Patrick Carman - Free Book Online Page B

after.”
    Hawk tried not to think of his parents, who hadn’t spoken or acknowledged his presence in months. They’d already suffered the curse of the Intels. He could hope only for the mercy of passing now—that his parents would drift into death without pain or regret.
    Glory flew away, glancing alternately at Faith and Hawk, until the garage door closed and she was gone.
    When they were cleanly away from the training facility and out on the open road, Clooger tapped a series of commands on the Tablet-enhanced dashboard, then took his hands off the steering wheel.
    â€œSo listen,” Hawk said, turning around to address Faith and Dylan. There was nothing like explaining new inventions for taking his mind off his worries. “The autopilot on this monster doesn’t take passengers into consideration. If it senses something up ahead, like a broken-down car or a tree or whatever, it will maintain the fastest speed possible in order to avoid the hazard while also cutting the least amount of time off our excursion. Same holds true for tight turns.”
    Faith leaned forward in her seat and looked at the dashboard, where a Tablet was duct-taped on four sides with wires pouring out like licorice whips.
    â€œWe’re doing 154 miles per hour,” Faith said. “That can’t be safe.”
    Hawk put his hand up defiantly. “Faith, please. We’re not even close to top speed yet. This thing might look like a Humvee, but it’s not. It’s a HumGee.”
    â€œHe likes to invent things,” Clooger said. “And name them.”
    â€œWhen the Apocalypse is over, we’re going to want these patents. Gold mine, trust me.” Hawk turned back to Faith and Dylan in the backseat. “We’re not really on the ground at all; it only seems like we are. Gyro-tech floats the wheels, so it’s a little like a glider but not quite.”
    â€œThat’s why he calls it a HumGee,” Clooger said. “Because we’re gliding. But trust me; you’ll still feel some bumps and curves. We’re only an inch off the ground.”
    They were approaching a turn with a sign that indicated 45 miles per hour, not that anyone could see it in the darkness without headlights on; and the HumGee slowed abruptly to about 130, taking the turn at a velocity that lifted the two right tires a foot off the ground. Faith ended up in Dylan’s lap.
    â€œSeat belts are a must in this thing,” Hawk said. “Sorry, I should have mentioned that.”
    The HumGee was as silent as a whisper, which only made the turns and the sharp jerks of the steering wheel more jarring.
    â€œMe and Clooger retrofitted everything,” Hawk said. “Wheels, tires, engine, electronics. She’s smooth, but she’s a beast. We can go up the side of a mountain if we need to. But out here, top speed is 240. Nice, right?”
    â€œAre we really in that big of a rush?” Dylan said, pulling on his seat belt, which came down over his shoulder. The seat belt, the speed, and the fact that no one was holding on to the steering wheel made Dylan feel as if he were heading into a demolition derby.
    â€œThe less time we’re out here, the better,” Clooger said. “And don’t even think about using a pulse. The closer we get, the more careful we need to be. No pulsing. Get used to it.” Clooger paused and swiped the Tablet screen, which switched to a page showing miles to go (682) and time to arrival at current speed (3.6 hours). “Wake me in an hour; I’m bushed.”
    Faith and Dylan didn’t believe sleep was even remotely possible in this kind of ride, but Hawk had seen Clooger do it.
    â€œHe could snore right through a drag race,” Hawk said. “And trust me. He snores.”
    They arrived on a long, straight stretch of highway, and Hawk let them know that the next hour would be fast and smooth.
    â€œWe can do 220 plus out here, really pile up