The Golden Crystal Read Online Free Page A

from home to the lab and back  —  but without headlights, he couldn’t see a thing. 
    The right tires began to kick up gravel, and Jake pulled hard on the wheel, trying to compensate. He over-corrected, and it was too much. The back tires kicked toward the cliff as the car skidded perpendicular to the road. Jake felt the pull of momentum, but he held fast to the steering wheel with his left hand as he reached for the emergency brake with his right. Yanking back as hard as he could, he immediately felt the brake grab. The tires locked, but the car didn’t slow, sliding through the loose gravel as though it were on a sheet of ice. 
    Time slowed to a crawl; Jake was helpless and frozen in place. There was nothing he could do to prevent the inevitable crash. An intense flash of light enveloped him, and he heard the engine and instruments come back to life  —  as if they had never stopped. The flash dissipated, and he was able to again make out the headlights and dashboard instruments  —  just as the same loud SNAP and pressure change from moments before hit him again. 
    All this he saw and felt in an instant; one that vanished as time sped back to normal. He saw before him the vast emptiness beyond the edge of the cliff as the car shot over the brink. Time slowed once more; he was suddenly weightless. He hovered a few inches above his seat, tethered by the seatbelt. As the car hurtled toward the ground, Jake could do nothing but stare through the windshield, mesmerized and helpless.

9:13 AM - WHITE ROCK, New Mexico, USA
    Cole’s morning was shaping up to be one of the best he’d had in a while. The sweltering heat of summer had finally faded into a bearable warmth that made his early morning runs quite enjoyable. Throughout college, he’d slowly gained weight and gotten less fit, and as he continued to eat whatever — and whenever — he liked, he watched his high-school football player’s body morph into a middle-aged storehouse of excess flab. At 27, Cole finally decided this “extra baggage” was unacceptable.
    14 months and 67 pounds later, Cole was well on his way to being more healthy and fit than he’d ever been. His parents were proud of his weight loss and fitness accomplishments, but they feared that Cole was too “into” his workouts, and his new lifestyle was going to consume him. Already he’d gone through three girlfriends in three cities in just over five years, and each failed relationship had left him feeling emptier than the one before. 
    But now, with just the open road to contend with, none of that mattered. He enjoyed this run — the 7.2 miles from his home outside of White Rock to the second switchback, where he’d turn and head home. New Mexico’s mountainous landscape stretched for miles ahead and to his left, and a sheer cliff face flew upwards on his right. Running used to daunt him but in this setting it was different; more relaxing. 
    As he approached the second switchback, his mind wandered, comparing his past failures and disappointments with his present health and potential. A year ago he couldn’t have walked this route without oxygen. Today, he’d finish the run, take an ice bath, and not even feel strained in the morning. Maybe he’d head into Santa Fe tonight and meet up with some new friends, or maybe he’d relax at home with a movie and a beer. Cole loved the freedom of living one day at a time, accountable only to himself. 
    The switchback appeared ahead of him, and he slowed to a jog for the last hundred yards. Just as he started his turn, he caught a flash out of the corner of his eye. Three hundred yards away at the base of the cliff, he could barely make out a destroyed vehicle. 
    Cole stopped and stared. That wasn’t there yesterday . Surely the police should know about it by now . He squinted, unable to make out any details. He started jogging toward the wreck — from here, he couldn’t see any signs of other cars or people. There were no sirens