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The first fat drop of rain splashed heavily onto the DeSoto’s windshield, followed swiftly by another, and another. The storm had finally arrived and as if someone had turned on a faucet the downpour mixed with weeks of dust and dirt smeared the windscreen as the wipers did their best to clear Ed’s vision. Soon enough the dirt had gone but the wipers still struggled to keep the windscreen clear of rain. He turned his quad headlights to full beam, trying to pierce the gloom ahead, but it made little impact through the deluge. A jagged bolt of lightning ripped down from the heavens momentarily lighting the way, followed seconds later by the ferocious roar of thunder. In that split second he made out the center line road markings then they were gone again. A series of sharp bends were coming up which meant he was almost back to the main road. A reasonable speed would have been about 30mph but Ed took them at nearer 70, hardly slowing at all, slewing around from turn to turn. At last, he careered sideways on to the main drag, the rear of the DeSoto fishtailing dramatically until the rear tires finally found their grip in the wet. A semi-trailer hauling logs sounded his horns as Ed suddenly appeared in front of him but as the truck driver hit the brakes and created a cloud of blue smoke from the rubber of his tires, Ed was still accelerating and moved away from the wall of steel that was the trucks blunt grille. Rosen saw the truck pass so slowed down just a little more as he came out of his side road. He hit the gas as soon as he was on the two-lane blacktop but immediately hit the brakes as the rear of the logging trailer came upon him. He twitched the wheel to the left to go around but was stopped as an air force truck hammered towards him, sounding his horn. Rosen peeked out again, looking past the logger and saw an empty road. He switched on his siren and top light and hit the gas. The trucker was still cursing through his greying beard at the driver of the black DeSoto that had rushed out in front of him and was working his way back up through the gearbox of the cumbersome Peterbilt when he saw the cop car coming up to overtake. Again he hit the brakes and moved to the right to allow the officer to pass more easily. The patrol car shot past like a bullet from a gun, easily passing the logging truck, sending up a spray of water behind it. “Gonna be one o’ those nights I guess” he grumbled to himself as once again he started double de-clutching his way through the gearbox.

The souped-up patrol car quickly got up into the 90s and as another lightning bolt struck, Rosen could see already the tail of the black car not half a mile away. His foot was now hard down to the floor and the Ford kept on picking up speed, the noise of the engine roaring through the open window, the rain ignored as it splattered onto his face and torso. Rosen had about 5 miles to catch the son of a bitch before whoever it was got into town and he intended to take him on the blind bend before the road started to descend down into the valley. He didn’t know how much he had seen but it was already too much, that was for sure. Probably some private dick looking for one of the kids maybe, well he was just about to do a disappearing act too. Both cars raced towards the hairpin bend at the brow of the hill. Rosen knew the road very well having driven it pretty much every day for the last five years or more and knew the guy in front would have to slow down a lot to make the curve. That was his chance; he moved even closer to the car ahead and got right up behind it.

Ed glanced in the mirror and saw the patrol car bearing down on him through the pouring rain. The wipers thumped madly across the huge windscreen but made little difference to what he could see as he hurtled forward doing over 90 and the cop car was still gaining quickly, its light flashing and siren screaming. He was unsure of the road ahead but knew it was the way back to Ludlow as when he looked down to his left he could see the town lights coming on in the premature evening darkness. His knuckles were white as his hands gripped the wheel tightly and beads of sweat poured down his brow as he concentrated on not getting caught by Rosen. Ed’s shirt was soaked with sweat but he didn’t notice at all, he used a forearm to wipe away the stinging moisture from his eyes. With his vision now a little clearer, he could see the road was starting to climb with the brow of a hill coming up, he passed a sign but too quick to notice what it said, no passing maybe, or did it say bend? It was too late now, he was at the brow and the car left the road completely as it took off from the hill, going straight ahead at about one hundred miles per hour. The road had gone and there was now only fresh air as the 2-ton coupe flew clear across the other side of the road and over the steep embankment, easily clearing the metal protective barrier. All Ed could see was sky, clouds and raindrops and for just a moment it looked like the swept-back car had actually turned into a rocket and could fly. With nothing to slow the wheels down the engine screamed as Ed instinctively but pointlessly hit the gas pedal harder, praying that by some miracle the old DeSoto could actually fly, but gravity wrapped the car in its heavy embrace and started pulling down. As Ed stared wide-eyed out of the front windscreen all he could see now was trees and bushes and a long drop as the big DeSoto nose-dived down the side of the hill. He had less than two seconds to react before the car would become a crumpled mess of twisted steel and shattered glass. Fighting his instinct to grip the wheel even harder he wrenched opened his door and jumped into thin air, leaving the roar of the powerful V8 engine behind him.

Rosen hit his brakes long before the corner and watched in amazement as the car in front took off like a jet-fighter straight into the sunset. The dumb numb-nuts had just committed hare-kari right in front of him. Didn’t even see the guy touch his brakes. The DeSoto flew over the hill and down out of sight. In a spray of rainfall, he came to an abrupt halt on the gravel strip at the bend. He hadn’t heard the noise of tortured metal as it was ripped apart, the explosion from the ruptured fuel tank or the screams of the intruder as he died a painful but timely death. He turned his siren and light off, followed by the engine of his car. Silence except for the incessant noise of the rain on the Ford’s roof engulfed him. Puzzled, he picked his service revolver off of the seat beside him and clipped it back in its holster, just in case. As he stepped out of his car he was instantly drenched, his uniform shirt plastered to his thin torso but he ignored the discomfort. He peered through the downpour and could see there was no break in the metal barrier, not even a scratch. The guy must have been a natural pilot to clear that. Rosen chuckled to himself. He walked up to the edge of the drop and peaked over. He had seen a quite a few crashes over the years, many of them right here and he knew what to expect. He looked down and saw… nothing! Absolutely nothing! Where the freakin’ hell was it? There was no wreck at all, no crushed trees or bushes, no rips or jagged scars in the earth as the car plunged down the hill. A crack of lightning illuminated the hill and from where he stood he could see clear to almost the bottom of the drop some 200 foot below. Nothing, just gone. No way could the car have just driven down there, even if it had survived the impact there were no tracks, nothing. Rosen climbed over the barrier and leant out to get a better look. He wiped his sleeve across his forehead ridding himself of some of the rain pouring down his brow and into his eyes and stared for long moments. He stared until the noise of the big Peterbilt coming up the road broke the spell of amazement. He ran soggily back to his car, started the engine and with a spray of water and gravel coming from his spinning wheels, he spun his car around and headed back into the hills.