Page 86 of The Rom-Commers

But it was bad enough, either way.

We were on a curve so sharp that stopping short made the back wheels spin out. And then the whole lumbering seventies Blazer started fishtailing into a 360 across the pavement like we were on a carnival ride.

The worst carnival ride ever.

I remember Charlie and me—both screaming—as the world outside the car blurred past the windows and Charlie desperately worked the wheel to try to regain traction. I remember the exact pitch of the tires wailing across the asphalt. And I don’t know if it was Charlie’s maneuvering or just an accident of physics, but as the car straightened itself out, I realized we were now lurching toward the guardrail.

The measly, maybe two-foot-high, definitely not-to-code guardrail.

Which was the only thing standing between us and a deep ravine that dropped off to nothingness past the edge of the road.

Everything disappeared except for the rail itself, and it felt more like it was coming toward us than the other way around.

And then we hit it. Front wheels crossing the white line painted at the edge of the road head-on like a finish line—just as the snout of theBlazer hit the metal railing with unholy creaks and deep groans like thunder as the metal bent with the force of our impact.

The front axle of the Blazer went fully over the edge of a berm of dirt before we stopped.

And I immediately felt terrible for underestimating that poor guardrail.

It caught us. God bless it, it caught us.

We fully snapped two of the posts as we went over them, but the horizontal belt caught us like a muzzle and didn’t let go.

In the silence that followed, with the wind whistling through the axle underneath us, I pieced together an understanding of our position: the back tires were still on the road, the chassis of the Blazer was resting on the berm, and the two front wheels were fully over the edge.

In front of us, and all around, was only a vast empty sky, with a valley that I couldn’t really see—and didn’t dare to look for—down below.

As an aside, I’ll mention that the view of the sky was breathtaking—electric blue with stippled white clouds.

“Did that just happen?” I whispered out loud.

“I guess the good news is,” Charlie said, “we didn’t hit the dog.”

“That wasn’t a dog, Charlie,” I said.

“It wasn’t?” Charlie said. “I thought it was a Great Dane. Or maybe a deer.”

“It was a bit toomountain lion shapedto be a deer.”

“A mountain lion? That’s crazy!”

“You’re the one who told me about the mountain lions!”

“Yes—but I was just trying to scare you.”

“Mission accomplished.”

At that, the car shifted a little.

We both froze, holding each other’s stares, likeDid we just imagine that?

Then quietly, in a whisper, Charlie said, “I think we must be teetering on the axle.”

“Let’s get out,” I whispered back. “Can we get out?”

Almost imperceptibly, Charlie shook his head. “There’s no getting out. We have to call for help.”

“Where’s your phone?” I whispered.

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