Earthbound : A gripping crime thriller full of twists and supernatural suspense by Fynn Perry (popular romance novels TXT) 📗

driver’s head fell forward momentarily, and the truck violently veered to the right, narrowly missing a car. Enraged, the spirit immediately disappeared back into the driver, who regained his faculties, taking back control of the truck in dumbstruck panic.

Before John realized what was happening, the spirit had whipped out an arm, and with a clenched fist, had struck John through the curtain straight into the bridge of his nose. John recoiled from the force and felt his face pulsate with pain as if he was mortal.

“Get the fuck out of my truck,” the voice warned.

John tried to focus past the pain and past his confusion. In all the times he had been to El Gordito’s clubs and the fulfillment center, he had only seen El Gordito and, at most, one of his men possessed. It would make sense that Santiago would want to limit the number of spirits controlling mortals in El Gordito’s organization to the minimum necessary, and then to only those that had his trust. But then why would one of his spirits possess a mere truck driver? Unless the host wasn’t a truck driver. He considered the shoes and the jacket––they were out of place.

John had to assume that the spirit wouldn’t fully come out of his host and risk the truck crashing. He figured if he could get over into the passenger seat, he would be out of the reach of the spirit and be able to take a good look at the driver He slipped through the side of the sleeper compartment so that he was hanging onto the truck’s exterior, and then re-entered the cab through the passenger door to sit on the edge of the passenger seat farthest from the driver.

The face of the spirit had appeared like an imprint on the side of the driver’s head and was staring at him. It spoke again. “What do you think you are going to do, John? Destroy the greatest criminal narrative of all time?”

John tried to pull his mind away from the shock of finding that the spirit knew his name. The more he looked at the host, the more he thought he bore a resemblance to one of El Gordito’s lieutenants from the photo-board in Lazlo’s war room.

“Yes, that’s Alberto Gonzalez, John,” the glowing face said, seeming to read John’s mind. “We had a problem with the scheduled driver. He wandered somewhere he shouldn’t.”

“Who the hell are you?” John asked.

“I’m one of Juan Santiago’s lieutenants, a sicario or hitman… back from the dead. Does that scare you John? It should!” His grin was wide and his eyes manic as he said this. “But I’m going to give you a choice, so listen carefully. Tell me where you have David and Jennifer Miller hidden and in return, we won’t destroy you, John. And when I say destroy, I mean hurt you so badly that you will cease to exist in any form. Think about it, it’s your life for theirs.”

Any qualms that John may have had about doing what he was about to do, left him. In a matter of seconds, they would pass under a bridge and the road was completely clear ahead. He quickly looked in the side mirror: behind them the road was clear for at least a quarter-mile. They were doing over sixty. It wouldn’t get any better than this.

Hoping to aim the truck toward the upcoming bridge’s right-hand support pillar, John lunged forward, grabbed the top of the steering wheel, and pulled it down hard in a sudden half turn. The violent change of direction caused the tractor to swerve and tilt as the trailer, continuing under its own momentum, was propelled in a shuddering and tire-shredding sideways slide toward the column of the bridge. The stink of vaporized rubber and white smoke filled the cab. Then there was a deafening creak and the sound of metal snapping as the coupling gave out, causing the tractor to flip onto its side. At the moment of impact, the trailer overshot the cab, crushing part of it and pushing it into the column of the bridge. The raised part of the trailer wedged itself between the cab and the underside of the bridge, causing the remainder of the trailer to rise momentarily upward before slamming down onto the road.

John had seen, for a split-second, the arms of the spirit emerge to try to grab the wheel, and then his host being thrown out of his seat, exposing the spirit, who like John, ended up floating amid the chaos of billowing white smoke, shattering glass, and buckling metal.

Once the rig came to a rest, John was dazed and lying within the mangled mess that had been the cab. He passed through it and staggered out onto the road, where he had a full view now of the chaos in the aftermath of the crash. Broken glass and truck parts, including the exhaust stacks he had held onto earlier, were scattered widely across the asphalt. He glanced back to look at what he had caused. The view was spectacular, in a horrifying way. The trailer had burst open and given up most of its load. He was relieved to see the broken carcasses of many of the washing machines, and, in the distance, a number of vehicles that had skidded safely to a halt. His plan had worked, seemingly with no casualties.

Some people had left their cars, and were now cautiously approaching to check for survivors. A few had noticed scattered bags of pills and were examining them. John figured it wouldn’t be long until someone recognized them for what they were and, as word spread, some of the pills would no doubt be shamelessly stolen.

Concerned that the spirit may be following, he looked around for him, but he was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps he was looking for Gonzalez, to check if he was alive. John wasn’t going to wait to be found. He needed to get out of sight and quick.

He