“Grandpa, we gotta’ go faster than this. I at least want fourteenth place.”

       “Relax Marcus. We’ll just take it easy. No need to rush it. Besides, twenty-five miles per hour is more than the speed we should be going especially on these mountain roads.” Marcus’ frowned again as another car shrieked past them without concern. “Jesus Christ, that guy was going practically fifty.”

       “That’s because unlike us Grandpa, that guy actually wants to win.”

       “Patience, ma’boy. You mustn’t try to exceed your limits.”

       “What does that even mean?”

       “It means we’ll get there when we get there.”

       Marcus sighed and peered out the window. “Why did I even think we stood a chance to begin with.”

       “Look Marcus, when we get to Chuck’s Bar, we’ll play some pool together alright? Just me an’ you.” A few awkward silences went between the two. Grandpa then decided to break the tension. “Sure is starting to fall out there. I better see what the radio report says.” He could not find much except for a few garbled transmissions. “Damn, I keep forgetting that the mountains block out the radio signals.”

       There were many signs that they passed by; almost all of them were recognizable and typical for a winding road. One sign however, stood out of the ordinary. “Grandpa? What’s Dead Man’s Curve?”

       “Wha? Oh, you mean that sign we just passed?” Through the rear-view mirror, Grandpa saw Marcus shake his head up-and-down. “Oh don’t worry about that. It’s just an old legend. They say that it’s haunted. I say that it’s just a really tricky turn that idiotic drivers get themselves killed on.”

       “Why would they wanna’ get themselves killed on it?”

       “Hehehe, I didn’t mean it that way. Besides, at the speed we’re going we won’t have any trouble managing it. Let’s just relax and enjoy the scenery.”

       After a few hills, and a few commercials, or what they thought were commercials, Marcus saw a faint glimmer that approached from behind. It was catching up with them quickly. “Hey Gramps, look. It’s another racer.”

       From behind, a slowly growing light soaked the interior of the car. It had traveled at fourty-five miles per hour; against their twenty-five miles per hour, and the fact that it wasn’t changing lanes, Grandpa began to worry. “Christ he’s gonna’ hit us.” He gripped the wheel and braced for potential impact. The pursuant car ripped the road as it made a sharp turn into the opposite lane. It passed their car so fast and so closely, that the trailing wind jostled their car.

       “Sixteenth place now.”

       Grandpa decided to ignore that comment. “Did you see what that guy just did? He could have killed us.” He tuned it to an AM traffic station. “Damn teenagers.”

        “I’ll be a teenager in two months grandpa.”

       “Well, you’re different. At least you’d have the sense not to try and go fifty on a mountain in the middle of a snow storm.”

       “It’s for a million dollars.”

       “It doesn’t matter if it’s for a bazillion dollars. You still respect rules of the road. Especially in these twisty roads. Why a guy’s liable ta’ drive himself right off the edge.”
Marcus sighed as he looked at the time on the dashboard. The falling snow painted the craggy mountainsides with a white sheen. Visibility was not far, but the other  mountain ridge that ran alongside theirs could be seen. Throughout the road, Marcus busied his eyes with the high-rising Sequoia trees that passed by.

       “Hey Grandpa, look, it’s a helicopter.”

       “Where?”

       “Up ahead. See?”

       Grandpa leaned forward to see through the windshield. “Oh yeah, I see it.”

       “That’s really cool, isn’t it?”

       “I wonder what it’s doing all the way out here?”

       “I don’t know, maybe it’s filming for a movie or something. Sorta’ like that documentary I saw in school about how pretty California is from the air.”

       “So how is school Marcus?”

       “It’s boring.”

       “Well, sounds to me like you liked that video. Surely, there must be ‘something’ else you like about school?”

       “Well, one of teachers is kinda’ fun, but he makes take a lot of no-”

       Grandpa jerked the wheel left as fast as he could, “Jesus Christ!”

       “What is it?” The tires started to lose traction as the car approached the upcoming turn.

       “Hold on tight, boy. I think this road’s been sheeted with ice.” Though he made the turn with the steering wheel, it only managed to send the car perpendicular with the road. He then tried to accelerate as he quickly approached the turn, but that only managed to make an icy-smoke trail behind them. “Jesus Christ, what happened to the guard rail?” All that was left of it were wooden stubs. Halfway through the turn, the car’s right rear tire was trailing over the edge in the air. “Lean boy, lean.” Marcus wasn’t sure what he meant by it, until he saw his grandfather lean against the window side hoping that their shift of balance would help.

       The right-rear side of the car slammed against the guard rail that still maintained. “Oh thank heavens we made it.” Grandpa tapped his foot against the gas, but the car wouldn’t budge. He looked behind and said, “Hold on there, we’re not out of the woods yet.” He then pushed all the way down on the pedal. The car moved only slightly, tethered to the persisting guard rail. After a few seconds the tires ripped through the ice and gained traction. The car broke free and all four wheels were on road again.

       “Thank God we made it right Grandpa?”

       “Yeah.” He swallowed his fears and returned his eyes to the road ahead. “By the way, that turn we just survived. That was Dead Man’s Curve.”

       “What happened to the guard railing?”

       “I don’t know, but I tell ya’, if the railing that was left wasn’t there to catch us, well… We’d be…” He let out a big sigh. “Come on Marcus. Let’s just make our way over to Chuck’s Bar & Grill and see what we get for fourteenth or sixteenth or whatever place we were at.”

       “Alright Grandpa.”

***
       After they got out of the car, and stretched, they both looked at the glowing neon sign. “Well, here we are. Marcus, you go on ahead. I’m gonna’ check the damages to the car.”

       “Alright Grandpa.”

       The damage to the rear bumper wasn’t surprising. After a moment’s thought, Grandpa decided where his priorities lay. “Aw hell, I can do this later. I need to play pool with my grandson.”

     It was a typical mountainside bar inside. Neon signs were placed all around the walls. Footsteps were amplified by the log cabin architecture all around. There were four pool tables, and two of them were being used. Thursday afternoons weren’t usually that busy anyway, especially only three days after Christmas. Marcus was sitting against one of the pool tables with two sticks, eager to get the game started.

       Alone at a far table, was a man in a business suit. He stood out amidst the non-formal attire that all the others wore. “Hey Mr. Mollen, I’m here.”

       The man in the business suit jerked his head towards Grandpa. “Um, hi, were you one of the racers?”

       Grandpa walked over to Mr. Mollen and reached for his hands in a shake. “Name’s Frank Johnas.” He pointed over to Marcus, “and that’s my grandson over there.” Marcus waved at Mr. Mollen, who returned the wave.

       “So, Mr. Johnas, I see that you made it all the way here?”

       “Yup, all two hundred miles.”

       “Well, congratulations Mr. Johnas. On behalf of my boss, Mr. Keller, I’d like to award you first place.”

       “Come again?”

       “You won. You get the first place prize of one million dollars.”

       Grandpa Frank couldn’t believe what he’d heard. “Surely you must be mistaken, I thought I’d be sixteenth place.”

       “Nope, you’re the first one to arrive.”

       “I don’t get it. Even within the last thirty miles three racers passed me by.”

       “Really? Well, maybe they didn’t know where the finish line was.”

       A couple ran in the bar and made a zip-line through the tables to Mr. Mollen and Grandpa Frank. “I know we’re like last place,” said the man, “but at least we get a little something right?”

       “Who are you folks?” asked Mr. Mollen.

       The woman reached out to shake Mr. Mollen’s hand. “Hi, I’m Brenda, and this is my husband Frank.”

       He checked his clipboard. “Yeah, I see your guys’ names here. Frank Johnas, and Brenda and Frank Bernard. We’ve got two Franks here. That’s kind of funny considering you two are second place. Hehehe.”

       The husband scratched his head, “I don’t see how that’s funny.” His eyebrows caught what else was mentioned in that sentence. “Second? We’re second?”

       “Yup, second behind this gentleman also named Frank.”

       “Hi,” Grandpa Frank waved.

       “Um, are you sure, ‘cause I’m pretty sure that we’re last. I mean, our car broke down like one-hundred miles in. Plus, we had to take the long way around the mountains because of some roadblocks the police just put up on I-25D. There’s no way we could be second.”

       Mr. Mollen looked left, looked right, and spread his high arms in the air. “I don’t know what else to tell ya’. You guys are first and second.”

       “Hey Frank,” said the bartender from behind the long bar.

       “Yeah?” said Grandpa Frank.

       “You were traveling along I-25D right?”

       “Yeah.”

       “Did you happen to see the pile-up?”

       “What pile-up?” By now everyone’s attention was on the bartender.

       “It’s all over the radio. Hold on.” He grabbed a remote from under the long bar. “Hold on, lemme’ see if I can find it on the news.” After a few channels, an aerial view of a road came into picture. “There it is, lemme’ turn up the volume.”

       Grandpa Frank knew what he saw on the screen, and he covered his open-mouth with his hand. The reporter’s voice was slightly garbled by the chopper’s blades in the background. “That’s right Brian, I’m flying over the mountain area where you can clearly see debris along the cliff-side of the mountains. Except that this debris is instead a catastrophe of crushed and mangled cars. It’s a wreck out here. From here you can clearly see that the cliff railing on this turn has been ripped clean off its hinges; and if that didn’t make matters worse, the turn-pike has been frozen solid making the road slippery and absolutely impossible to turn on, which as you can see has caused over forty vehicles to be launched off the road and down the ravine.”

       “Locals call it Dead Man’s Curve. And lemme’ tell ya’ from where I’m sitting, this is nothing else but a deadly turn. It looks to be a two-hundred foot drop, and I don’t think most people would survive that kind of fall, even inside a car. Unfortunately, due to the weather, road construction crews won’t be able to make it out here in these parts for another day or two, and local officials are trying to block off the road before any more people drive through this area. Oh wait, I think I see something from the corner of the road, it looks like-  yes, it’s a car traveling down the very road. It doesn't look like they have any idea what lies ahead for them. I wish I could warn them. Unfortunately, we don’t have any kind of speaker on this copter. We’ll try to move in and possibly warn them.”

       As the camera moved in to get a better look at the car approaching the turn, Frank felt chills down his neck, and goose bumps along his arms. “Grandpa?” Marcus made his way over to the crowd that stood before the T.V. “What’s happening?”

       “Look at the T.V., boy.”

       Marcus also saw the car on the television, and let his mouth hang open.

       The reporter continued. “Folks, I think we might be in for another accident, let me try and get a good angle.”

       “What an asshole,” thought Grandpa Frank.

       “The car’s approaching the turn. It looks like he’s going maybe about thirty miles per hour. Ok, I can see the driver turning the wheel. Actually, it looks more like he’s yanking the wheel. Oh! The car’s skidding out of the lane. It’s losing its grip against the road. Oh my God! It hit the railing! Can you believe that? In all my as traffic reporter, I’ve never seen anything like it. I’m not sure if you can see it clearly from the camera’s angle, but one of the back tires is over the edge. I’m not sure what to say at this point, but the car is definitely walking a thin line between falling and making it out alive. It looks like it’s trying to get unstuck from the cliff railing.”

       “Folks, what you have just seen is a near death experience, I can’t tell you how lucky these people are. If the driver had been going any faster in this dangerous weather, well, he might have gone over the edge completely. I’m not sure if they’ve seen the cliff-side below, but I can say with certainty that they ‘are’ lucky to be alive. Alright, it looks like they’ve gotten themselves off the railing and are now safely driving off. Folks for anyone who’s watching, please remember to watch yourself on the road. And if anyone is listening on the radio and is on I-25D, I urge you to turn around immediately. This is Johnson with the traffic... out.”

       “Thank you for that report, by the way that was John Johnson with the traffic. That was a clip from about an hour ago. We’re replaying it to warn folks not to try to drive along I-25D anytime soon. Please take alternate routes. Hold on, we’ve just received an update from the rescue team, and according to their report, there are fourteen survivors. Again, our man in the sky estimated about forty cars, and the rescue team reported just a few moments ago that there were fourteen survivors. We’ll report more on the story as it unfolds. Thank you for watching the only news station that brings traffic updates every ten minutes on the third minute. I’m Brian Jared, and this is ABCD News at four.”

       The bartender looked at Grandpa. “Frank, wasn’t that your car?”

       Grandpa Frank latched his hands onto his grandson’s shoulder pads as both of them stared mindlessly at the screen. “Yeah, it was.”

       Everyone was speechless, save for Mr. Mollen who thought to break the tension in the room by saying, “Well, it looks like there won't be a third.”