CHAPTER 3: THE DESPERATE ESCAPE FROM THE EDGE
The grinding screech of twisted steel filled the air as the semi-truck reversed its gears and prepared for the final, catastrophic collision. Mark pulled himself completely over the rocky ledge, ignoring the searing pain in his torn palms and bruised shoulders.
He lunged forward across the slick asphalt toward the battered sedan, his crisp white shirt stained with dirt and engine oil. Through the cracked windshield, he locked eyes with Sarah, communicating a wordless promise that he would pull her out of this nightmare or die trying.
Victoria peered through her side mirror, her sleek blonde hair framing a face distorted by impatient fury at Mark's impossible survival. She cranked the steering wheel hard to the left, lining up the massive chrome grill of the semi-truck for a direct, high-speed ramming maneuver.
"You should have stayed down in the dirt where you belonged," Victoria whispered coldly, flooring the gas pedal with lethal intent. The engine roared like a caged animal, propelling the massive vehicle forward with unstoppable momentum toward the trapped couple.
Mark reached the passenger side door of the sedan, throwing his entire body weight against the jammed handle until the latch finally gave way. He grabbed Sarah’s trembling hand, pulling her out of the lavender linen dress snag and hoisting her clear of the vehicle just in time.
A fraction of a second later, the eighteen-wheeler struck the rear bumper of the sedan with thunderous force, sending the empty car over the cliff edge. The vehicle plummeted through the open air like a stone, crashing violently into the jagged rocks far below before bursting into flames.
May you like
The shockwave of the explosion rattled the highway guardrails, sending a shower of glowing embers up into the damp coastal fog. Mark shielded Sarah with his own body, holding her tight against the asphalt while the semi-truck screeched to a halt ahead of them.
Victoria slammed open the truck door and stepped down onto the highway, her crimson red blazer catching the swirling wind like a banner of tyranny. She drew a small, suppressed automatic pistol from her holster, stepping toward them with steady, methodical strides.
