Read Quake for Free Online

Mazda. braced against the dash. She squeezed her eyes shut. Instead of a collision, she felt a sudden jerk. She looked, saw they were back in their own lane for the moment, and glimpsed Earl's hand coming out, about to launch another strike at Wellen. She grabbed Earl's wrist. 'Don't! Leave him alone. Do you want to make him crash?'
        'Let go of me!' Earl wrenched his arm from her but he didn't swing at Wellen. Instead, glaring at Barbara he sank back into his seat. 'I could make him stop, you know. You're not so tough.'
        'You wanta see how tough am, just keep it up.’
        'Oh, I'm scared to death.'
        'Everybody shut up!' Wellen shouted.
        'If you don't like it,' Barbara snapped at him, 'stop and let us out.'
        'I'll let you out when I'm good and ready, young lady. I'm still the teacher around here. I'm still in charge. So everyone sit still and keep your mouths shut. Is that understood? As for you, Jones, you can look forward to criminal charges for assault and battery when all this is over.'
        'Oh yeah?'
        'Yeah.'
        Ahead, both eastbound lanes were blocked by stopped cars. Wellen didn't slow down.
        'Hey,' Barbara said. And cried out, 'NO!' as he poured on the gas. 'Stop it! Are you nuts?'
        He cut to the left and they sped alongside the line of halted cars, straight toward the front of an oncoming RTD bus.
        

***
        
        'These'll come right down, right down,' Stanley muttered as he sidestepped between two of his mother's rose bushes. He hated them. He hated all of her rose bushes. They stood at the cinderblock wall like sentinels posted to keep him away. Though they couldn't keep him away, they never failed to draw his blood. No matter how often he trimmed back their thorny branches, no matter how much care he took to suck in his stomach and lift his arms above their reach as he eased through, their thorns always found him.
        He'd paid with stinging wounds for his many trips to the wall. Now, a nettle pricked the back of his shoulder. As he tried to escape it, another nicked his thigh. Both barbs snagged his pajamas and wouldn't let go. Stanley almost wished he'd left his bathrobe on; its thick nap would've given him some protection from the thorns. But he'd left his robe in the house. After all, why should he wear it? The morning was warm and luscious. Mother was hardly in any position to complain about his attire. Nobody was likely to complain, considering the circumstances. Hell, the house had fallen down. What could they expect Stanley to wear, a tux? He was glad he'd left the robe behind, he enjoyed being outside dressed in nothing except his moccasins and pajamas. He liked how the pajamas drifted lightly against his skin, caressing him. And he liked it that they were so thin; any woman he might meet would be able to see quite a lot of him through the lightweight fabric. The heavy robe might have saved him from a few scratches, but it would've smothered him, hidden him. After plucking his pajamas free of the thorns, he made it to the wall. He braced his hands against the cinderblocks, leaned forward and lifted himself on tiptoes to see Sheila's house. He moaned. Beyond the lawn, beyond the concrete patio, the house was down. It looked as if it had been kicked apart and stomped by a giant. All that remained was a mess of junk corralled by broken walls - a litter heap of splintered wood, tattered patches of roofing asphalt, red tiles, crumbled stucco and plaster and sheetrock, tendrils of pipe jutting up here and there, a few wires leading to nowhere.
        Maybe Sheila wasn't inside when it went down, Stanley told himself. Anything could've happened. Maybe She'd decided to run an extra mile or two. Maybe she'd gone on an errand. Maybe she was inside, but she's still alive, and if save her, she'll be so grateful to me that… If she was inside the house when it fell, she has to be dead. Stanley squeezed his eyes