Falling(57)



As a kid, when his family went to the beach, they went to Toes. Toes Beach had been a surfing mecca in the ’60s, but after rock jetties were built to prevent beach erosion, the surf that had brought people in disappeared. It was now primarily a locals’ beach with calm waves, a winding bike path, and very few tourists.

Theo pounded his fist on the dash in frustration and a shockwave of pain roiled through his injured arm. He was glad for the pain. He deserved it for being so stupid, for taking so long to put it together.

Toes connected to Dockweiler.

The end of the road approached, and Theo faced another red light. He slowed, checking for oncoming traffic, and saw none coming. Speeding back up, he began to turn right-on-red with a glance up at the street name as he rounded the curve. Pershing. He thought that street might—

He heard the brakes before he saw the car.

The tires screeched, one second before the car slammed into him at full speed, hitting the SUV just behind the driver side door. The car spun out of control until it struck something else—something large, something metal—that sent the SUV spinning in the opposite direction. There was a loud pop and glass rained down on him, followed by a rush of cool air.

For a moment, everything around him was stationary. Cool, and still. Theo didn’t move.

Theo unbuckled his seat belt with bloody fingers and went for the door handle. It wouldn’t budge. The door was stuck. The car was pinned up against what he assumed was the undercarriage of another car. Theo coughed as smoke seeped into the interior through the smashed window.

Crawling into the back seat, Theo became aware that his whole body was in pain—but he kept going. He tried the back doors, but they were locked.

The rear window was a spiderweb of fractured glass. Theo climbed over the back seat. There, he was able to get to his feet, stooped over in the tight cargo space. Holding himself steady with his good arm, Theo pulled back his left leg and kicked at the glass. On the third blow, the window shattered around his leg with a tinkling crash. Theo scrambled out the back of the car, sucking in deep breaths of fresh air.

A stranger ran up to him. “Are you okay? You need to sit down. An ambulance is on its way.”

Theo heard it all, but none of it registered as he surveyed the scene. Three cars. One on its side. A motorcycle. All mangled. Broken glass and twisted metal was strewn everywhere. A half dozen people lay on the ground, moaning. Bystanders stood by their own cars, helpless.

Helpless.

The Hoffmans.

He had to keep going.

Theo pulled away from the man who was trying to get him to sit down and headed for the overturned car. A young couple knelt on the ground speaking with the driver who was stuck inside the vehicle, still belted into her seat. She was conscious but covered in blood. They told her not to move.

“Is she alright?” Theo asked.

They nodded. “I think so,” the husband said. A siren was heard in the distance. “Hang on,” the man said to the driver. “Help’s coming. They’re going to get you out, okay?”

The sirens got louder. That could be an ambulance—or it could be the FBI. Theo needed to get out, too. Amidst the commotion, he walked over to the motorcycle that lay on its side on the ground. The key was still in the ignition.

Before anyone could stop him, Theo righted the bike and straddled it. Putting it in neutral, he pressed the kill switch to the on position before pulling the clutch and pressing the starter button. Miraculously, the engine stuttered into a throaty purr. Theo gave it a little gas as he eased out the clutch, and the bike took off.

Theo hadn’t ridden since learning on his freshman year roommate’s old dirt bike, but it came back quickly. Soon, he squinted into the wind as the motorcycle raced down the street, horns honking at him as he dodged and weaved through the cars. Theo ignored them.

His arm was harder to ignore. The way he needed to drive meant riding one-handed wasn’t an option. The pain he felt as he extended his left arm out of the sling nearly made him lose control of the bike. As his right hand worked the throttle and front wheel brake, he was relieved the injury wasn’t to that arm. His left hand trembled in its loose grip on the handlebar, struggling to keep things steady and on line. The front tire quivered precariously.

Theo scanned the upcoming streets and was certain the next intersection was the left he needed to make. There was one car ahead of him: a minivan waiting for a jogger to clear the intersection so it could turn in. Theo gave the bike a little gas and upshifted. The van was midway through its left when Theo pulled up on its inside. The van’s tires squealed as it swerved to the right. The jogger leapt onto the curb, narrowly rolling out of the way. The motorcycle wobbled momentarily before regaining its balance as Theo sped up the street into the residential area.

The neighborhood was exactly as Theo remembered: winding and hilly. He navigated the bike through the maze of streets that led toward the coast knowing there would be one more left, then a right that would jag to connect to an access road. That access road would then run parallel to the beach, ending in a connection with Dockweiler’s parking lots.

He just needed to find the right street.

Theo slowed, glanced both ways, and then blew through a stop sign to start up a steep hill. He had no time to ride carefully—but he had enough sense to recognize that there were no seat belts now and he wasn’t wearing a helmet.

Driving down the other side of the hill, he focused on the second street ahead. He thought that was it, but as he passed the first street, something in his memory bank stirred.

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