Page 28 of Furious
Angela steps in front of us.
She unties a scarf that was tied around her neck. “Go on the drop. Ready, steady…”
She drops the scarf.
As I peel off my spot, I see something in the corner of my eye. Another bike just flanked me, taking off hot and fast on my side.
The first stretch of road is straight and flat and if I want to win this race, I need to go at maximum speed now.
Everything is a blur as I leave the majority of the other bikes behind me.
I shift my body forward, making myself as aerodynamic as possible, leaning into the speed and the open road.
That bike, though, is keeping up with me. I’m aware of its presence because of the unique noise of its engine. I would recognize a Ducati anywhere. They have a loud, deep, throaty sound due to its L-twin engines.
Who the fuck is racing a Ducati in Star Cove? I’m pretty sure that if Fox had one of those at his disposal, he would be riding it. So this must be one of his friends, possibly someone with money, because these babies don’t come cheap.
Curiosity has the best of me and I turn my head to steal a glance at the person riding the all black Ducati.
The rider is dressed in all black leather, and a matching helmet that covers his entire face.
There isn’t much to see, other than the guy is about to take over and I can’t let that happen.
He isn’t even the only one who could take this race from me. Lev has caught up with me in his Damon Hypersoft and I see Cal’s Beamer right behind me in my mirror.
There’s a curve coming up in the road and I can’t afford to slow down if I want to win. The road will become narrower, which means not enough room for all of us. It’s either go faster, or get left behind.
Of course there’s a third alternative, which is to get thrown off the track if you get in the way, but that would be a fuck up of epic proportions.
I’m so distracted by the Ducati that I don’t see Cal advancing and attempting to get between me and Lev.
“Get away, fucker!” I yell, even though I doubt the piece of shit can hear me with the noises of all our engines roaring in the night.
I open the throttle with the intention of getting away from him, but he doesn’t give up.
We’re just about to come into view of the curve where the road narrows considerably and then expands again.
I look at either side of me. Lev and the Ducati are still there, keeping up with me, determined to be the first to negotiate the curve.
Fox is up my ass, edging in with every passing second. He doesn’t take any notice of the fact that there is no room for him and it’s only a matter of time before he tries to push his way in.
There’s nothing more reckless and more dangerous than overtaking when the road narrows; that’s why I know it’s exactly what Fox is going to do.
The only way to prevent him from causing a crash is to accelerate and get ahead of the curve.
My mind is made up and my wrist is ready to open the throttle, but something flashes in front of my eyes.
The road narrows before widening again, like a funnel. A bike.
It takes me a second to realize that the bike I see veering off the road and crashing against the barrels that mark the makeshift racetrack at the curve isn’t really there.
That the sirens of the ambulance rushing over to help the rider lying down on the tarmac are only in my head.
My eyes search frantically for my brother, and the first thing I was taught when I learned how to ride is to keep your eyes on the road. If you look at an obstacle ahead of you, you’re going to hit it.
Fox takes that opportunity to pass me, chasing the Ducati that is now leading the race.
If I hit those barrels at the side of the road, I’m gonna get hurt and fuck up my bike. So I swerve, letting my bike go off the road. The bumpier terrain and the tall grass slow me down andcushion my fall. Luckily I’m expecting the impact, so I fall the way I was taught, protecting the weakest parts of my body.
