The Phantom Read Online Free Page A

jungle.” He leaned forward and peered through the muddied windshield. “Oh, no!”
    Quill slammed his foot down on the brake, snapping Morgan and Zak forward against the dashboard. The truck slid through the dirt and its wheels locked, brakes squealing. A huge cloud of dust billowed around the truck, engulfing it. When it finally settled, Quill saw that the truck had come to rest at the foot of a rope suspension bridge.
    The two men stepped out of the truck and moved to the edge of the precipice. Quill’s knees turned soft and mushy at the sight of the deep gorge that the bridge spanned. Everything spun. More than anything, he feared heights—the dizzying swirl when he peered downward; the horrifying sense that the earth was shifting beneath his feet.
    He wrenched himself back from the edge, sucking air quickly through his clenched teeth. His stomach churned. He took a long, deep breath for ballast to steady himself.
    “Hey, Quill!” Breen yelled, rubbing his thick neck as he and Styles climbed out the back of the truck. “What’s the deal? How about warning us when you’re going to stop like that.” Then he saw the bridge. “Oh, I see.”
    Quill took a closer look. The bridge was about thirty yards long and was constructed of thick rope and jungle vines, with a pathway made of heavy wood planks. He turned to Morgan. “Whadya think?”
    “I don’t know. Looks like it’ll hold, but then again . . .”
    “Breen? Styles?”
    “Hate to bet my life on it, Quill,” Breen said.
    “Same here,” Styles agreed.
    Quill considered their situation for a few moments; his eyes were on the bridge, not the chasm. He was pretty sure he could make it across, but he didn’t want to chance it with the truck.
    “Okay. We’ll go over on foot. All except one. He’ll stay back to drive the truck across.”
    They all looked at one another and edged away from the bridge. “Yeah. Good idea, Quill. But which one?” Morgan asked.
    Quill turned to see Zak standing in front of the truck. He smiled at the kid. “Hey, you want to learn to drive a truck?”
    “You’re kidding, I hope,” Morgan said.
    “Not unless you’d like to take his place.”
    When Zak slid behind the wheel, he could barely see over the dashboard. In order for his feet to reach the pedals, he had to sit on the very edge of the seat. His mouth was dry, his head ached. He was concentrating, doing what they’d told him. He knew this bridge well. He’d crossed it many times. He’d seen carts pulled by horses, but he’d never seen a truck cross over it. The bridge was old, but he thought it was strong enough to support the truck as long as he stayed on the wood planks. That was the problem. He just didn’t know if he could drive it in a straight line.
    He had to do it, though. He wasn’t doing it for these men. No, it was for his father. These men were bad and his father needed his help. Zak would do whatever he could to free him.
    The man named Quill had heard that his father knew this part of the jungle better than anyone, so one day when Zak and his father were in Zavia buying supplies, Quill asked his father to be his guide. His father agreed when he heard how much Quill was going to pay him, but he changed his mind when he found out what Quill and the other men were looking for.
    That was when they took him to a ship in a cove and tied him up. They were going to torture him in front of Zak, but then Zak told the men he knew the jungle, too, and he would help them if they let his father go. Quill promised they would free his father as soon as Zak showed them the way to the ancient place.
    That was the last time he had seen his father. As he’d left the ship, Zak had found his father’s red and blue kerchief on the dock. He’d picked it up and still carried it with him, a reminder that his father’s freedom was the only thing that mattered.
    The engine was already running. He stretched forward, pushing the clutch pedal as close as he could to the