"Just a sec," you call, sliding out of the driver's seat. You pause to swing the door shut and then head around the hood of the car, folding your arms. "I'm not sure how much help I'll be."

Wes has the lug wrench in his hand. He kneels down and gestures you forward. "Just help me get the jack up under the car," he says.

You approach him and bend over to look at the flat tire, frowning. There's a hole in the edge of it—a slit about half an inch long. "What do you suppose made that?" you ask.

"Don't rightly know," Wes replies. "I think you've got bad luck, Kendall."

There's something sinister in his tone.

When you turn back toward him, Wes has the lug wrench raised. With a wicked smile, he brings it crashing down toward your face.

You have just an instant to take the scene in. What's your split-second reaction?

Try to duck and bolt past him. [[Go to Chapter 67.]]

Raise an arm to defend your head. [[Go to Chapter 77.]]