Fiction
Lake Paradoxby Rob Hart
Esteban’s
stomach twists like he’s going over that first dip on the Cyclone. Everything
floating in the moment before gravity takes over. Except they’re not floating.
Gravity pushes him into the seat as they fall forward into the dark, barreling
across I-87, the gray asphalt black and the lush green treeline black. Even the
inside of the car black, save the edges highlighted neon blue by the glow of
the dash displays.
3:07 a.m. 55 mph. Gas almost halfway between F and E.
Esteban grips the wheel so hard the joints in his hands ache.
“How much longer?” he asks.
Brad mumbles, whirring like an old computer. After a few seconds
he says, “Given the speed and time elapsed, the next exit should be in two
miles. Prepare to move left. Carefully.”
“Yeah.
