Free The Chair by James L. Rubart

stronger; hated himself for failing his kids, his wife, his church; hated the image of who people thought he was.
    “Lots.”
    “Then preach on that.”
    Right. And lose his church. “Okay. I’ll be back to bed soon, sweetie.”
    His wife shuffled away, undoubtably with an angelic smile on her face.
    She was pure, a good heart, believed in him, even though he didn’t believe in himself.
    He needed healing. Deep. They said admitting it was the first step.
    And the chair might be the second.



CHAPTER 14
    A s the sun crested a ridge to the east, Corin stood with A. C. Avena at the top of a long winding road, adrenaline pumping through his body. This would be a rush of nitro proportions. A great way to start a Tuesday morning.
    “Are you sure about this run?” A. C. looked at him with the crooked smile that drove girls nuts when they were in high school.
    “Shasta would have done this with me in half a nanosecond.”
    “Only after you talked him into it.” A. C. pulled on his leather luging gloves and stared at Corin. “I heard you got a little crazy up near Pikes Peak last weekend.”
    Corin grinned. “Wish you could have been there and done the jump with us. It was cool.”
    “I heard you almost got yourself killed.”
    “Not true.”
    “Uh-huh.”
    They’d driven the length of the road—two and a half miles—three times, studying the curves and the slope.
    “Perfect hill.” Corin rubbed his hands on his thick leather pants. “Let’s shoot it from the top with a no-brakes pact.” He held out his forefinger toward A. C. and bent it in.
    “Are you crazy?” A. C. took a step back.
    “Yes.”
    “No brakes, no do.”
    “Why not? I thought we wanted to get a serious adrenaline rush.”
    “There’s no way you can hold the corner on that final turn.”
    “How do you know that?”
    “Because I read about this road. Five guys have tried it and each one has ended up with an asphalt beard.” A. C. frowned and grinned at the same time. “We both read the same pieces on this run. I’m not telling you anything you don’t already know.”
    “So the sixth time should be the charm, right?”
    “You think you’re Superman, don’t you? Nothing can touch you; nothing can take you out.”
    Corin frowned. “No I don’t.”
    “Someday kryptonite is going to spring out of nowhere and kill you.”
    “I can make it.”
    “You don’t want to do this without braking.”
    “Yeah I do.” Corin locked his fingers together and squeezed till his hands hurt. “I have to.”
    “Why do you always push the envelope so far it tears?”
    He cocked his head. “I might have stretched it a few times, but it’s never torn.”
    “Not yet.” A. C. picked up his street luge and spun the wheels. “This shoot has paper shredder written all over it. Sometimes I wonder if you’ve got some kind of weird desire to hurt yourself.”
    “I don’t care if I get hurt.” Corin stared at the shoot. “It would be good for me.”
    “I’m not tracking with you here, Cor. How does getting hurt do anyone any good?”
    Corin didn’t answer. He set his board on the ground and sat on it, then snugged up the strap on his helmet and flipped his visor down. “You coming?”
    AS CORIN TORE through the final corner, the one A. C. said would make him Mr. Hamburger Face, Corin reached for the brake, his fingers trembling. No. Can’t do it. He didn’t deserve the chance to be safe.
    He leaned to the left, the centrifugal force of rocketing down the road at seventy miles an hour trying to fling him off the edge of the road to his right.
    C’mon, stay with it! Lean in!
    His wheels skidded across the pavement as he leaned harder to left. Too close. The edge of the road just feet away a moment ago was now just inches.
    Rolling over the edge at seventy miles an hour. Not good. Not healthy.
    Three more seconds. Hang on. No brakes, no brakes.
    An instant later he was through the turn and streaked straight down the road, relief flooding his