Page 50 of Ride Forever
“I trained for situations like these,” he replied. “I’ll be right behind you.”
Nodding, I stashed the revolver in my inside pocket. It was useless without bullets, but I didn’t want to leave it behind. Poetic justice was killing my father with it, and adding King to the collection would be the ultimate.
Knowing Chaser only had one more clip in his Glock, I waited for his cue. There was no margin for error in this. It was either flee or die.Don’t look back.
“Go!”
I sprang to my feet, pushing off the ground with all the strength I could muster. Sprinting across the lot, the deafening bang of gunfire covered my escape. Throwing my leg over the closest motorcycle, a Harley Sportster, my hands began to tremble as I fumbled with the controls. Thankfully, Chaser was right about the renegades being cocky sons of bitches. The keys were still in the damn thing.
A surge of adrenaline drove me onward, and I yanked out the choke and turned the key, wishing it was easier to start one of these hulking beasts. Pulling the clutch on, I shifted the gear into neutral and pressed the start button. Gunfire popped behind me, and I lowered my head as the bike roared into life. I didn’t have time to wait for the engine to warm up, so I shifted into first and hit the gas. Gasket would have a fit, knowing I was riding a Harley with the choke on, but considering the circumstances, I didn’t give a shit.
I almost lost my balance as I sped across the motel lot, the bike wobbling underneath me. I heard another engine start, followed by angry shouting, and hoped it was Chaser stealing another motorcycle from those creeps.
“After them!” I heard Rocket shout, but his voice was snatched away by the wind as I tore out onto the highway.
Glancing over my shoulder, the Harley wobbled slightly, and I sighed in relief when I saw Chaser gaining on me. The motel faded into the distance, but the glint of the remaining motorcycles followed us out onto the road.
Chaser came up alongside me, looking smooth as, the sound of the engines mingling.
“You okay?” he shouted over the road noise.
“Fine!”
“Can you handle the bike?”
“Piece of cake!”
He glanced over his shoulder. “They’re coming.”
The desert stretched either side of the highway, open and offering no cover. To the left were the beginnings of a rocky range of low mountains. We could lose them there.
I gestured to the road before us. “Lead the way.”
Chaser nodded and moved ahead, his bag slung over his back like mine. A mile down the highway, he turned off onto a smaller road, and we weaved through the rocky landscape, the twists and turns hiding us from what was behind and in front. Well, at least one thought in my head was actionable.
A few more miles and Chaser slowed and drifted to the side, the wheels of his bike hitting gravel. I followed his lead, and we edged into the rugged landscape using the rock to hide us from the road.
Chaser cut his engine, and I did the same, the silence of the wild feeling more deafening than the roar of two Harleys. Throwing his leg over, he dumped his duffel and strode across the dirt, then began climbing up the packed earth, finding handholds in the uneven rock.
I stashed our bags in a cleft between two jagged boulders,just in case, and climbed up beside Chaser.
“Anything?”
“Not so far.”
We sat among the rocks, watching the road below and listening for sounds of pursuit. It wasn’t long before the telltale rumble of a convoy echoed off the baked stone. The sun rose behind us, coloring the landscape in rust-colored light, the heat already beginning to turn up several notches. If it weren’t for the ominous buzzing of our enemies, it would be beautiful.
I tensed as a glint of silver flashed in the distance, moving along the road we’d just been on.
“They could see our tire tracks,” I whispered, terrified my voice would carry even though they wouldn’t be able to hear us over their engines.
“I don’t think they’re smart enough to track out here in the desert,” Chaser replied. “Even if they did see the tracks and find the bikes, they’d be hard pressed to find us in all this.”
Nestled among the expanse, we watched as four motorcycles—and six men—rolled past. The Hollow Riders never had a chance in hell to spot us.
We waited an hour before descending, then climbed on the motorcycles and returned to the road. Doubling back, we found our way to the main route and turned toward Los Angeles.
