Busted Read Free Page A

one foot on the brake, one on the gas. He swungthe truck like a slingshot in and out of traffic, blindly trusting that everyone else would get out of his way.
    The Chevy ran the first light it came to, causing an eighteen-wheeler to jackknife across the median. Will cringed as the rig swept up two SUVs. Just by chance, he looked down to find the handlebar of his bike inches away from a car’s sideview mirror. Will jerked his hand away seconds before the grip hit the mirror. The mirror flipped back. He fought to correct the turn, praying he hadn’t saved his fingers only to lay down eight miles of skin on blacktop.
    The Indian righted, staying true to the yellow line in the center of the road. Will gunned the engine. He clenched his ass cheeks as he slid between two cars going in the opposite direction. The Chevy was up ahead. A Forest Park Police cruiser was on its tail now. Lights and sirens were blaring. Cars were starting to pull over, but not all of them. Will saw a man holding up his iPhone with one hand as he attempted to drive with the other.
    The Chevy approached the bridge over the interstate. The driver was going straight as an arrow, but he made a split second decision and swerved toward the on-ramp to I-75. The police cruiser missed the turn by about a foot, popping against the bridge railing so hard that the trunk and hood flew open. Will almost did the same. He turned at such a steep angle that he felt the asphalt rub the seam on the side of his jeans.
    He righted himself, then swerved sharply to avoid rear-ending a parked BMW. Then swerved again to avoid another car. Will gripped the brake as hard as he could. The bike went into a spin, almost getting away from him before shuttering to a stop.
    The on-ramp was packed with vehicles. Again, the Chevy weaved back and forththrough traffic. The driver’s luck ran out smack in the middle of the ramp. The Chevy clipped the front end of a Prius. The impact was like two rubber balls colliding. The Prius sucked into an SUV. The Chevy bounced sideways, sliding at a right angle across the asphalt.
    Will stood from the bike.
    The on-ramp started at the top of a steep hill. Instead of a guardrail lining the left side, there were a bunch of orange barrels indicating where a guardrail would eventually be placed. The on-ramp needed it. The median was a sharp drop down, maybe thirty feet of nothing but sky between the top of the ramp and the highway. The Chevy driver’s hands worked furiously to avoid the obvious, but there was no stopping gravity. The truck knocked out a row of orange barrels as it plunged toward the interstate.
    Will felt his jaw drop.
    Instead of fighting the fall, the driver steered into it. The truck accelerated. The wheels caught air. The landing wasn’t pretty. The truck bounced and skipped across four lanes of interstate, hit the median divider, then skidded back across the same four lanes. Cars careened around like pinballs. The driver’s arms flew wide as his head slammed into the roof, then snapped down, then slammed into the roof again.
    For just a moment, it looked like the Chevy might tip over, but through some act of physics Will would never understand, the truck stayed upright. The driver didn’t argue with luck. The truck’s engine screeched as it lurched down the interstate. The tires had popped from the impact. The rubber flew loose like Silly String. The Chevy was on nothing but rims now. Sparks flew up from the road.
    Still, he was getting away.
    Will sat down on the bike. He pulled back on the throttle again, gunning the engine. The on-ramp was bottlenecked. Some of drivers had gotten out of their cars to watch the melee. Most of them had phones in their hands, like nothing was real for them unless they captured it on video.
    Will had no choice but to follow the truck’s path down the median. He tried to control the descent, but a large rock sent the bike airborne. He ended up making roughly the same jump to the interstate as the