Page 1 of The Biker's Captive
1
WILLOW
The first thing I notice is the taste of tarmac grit. I lick my lips, trying to figure out why the hell I’ve got dirt in my mouth, and taste the metallic tang of blood. That isn’t good.
My cheek scraps against the hard surface of the road as I lift my throbbing head, catching gravel on my skin. The ringing in my ears oscillates up and down, making me feel like I’m underwater. But I’m not underwater. I’m lying on the road, and I’ve got no idea how I got here.
My nostrils flare with the smell of tarmac and something acrid.
White dust floats from the sky and lands on the road next to me. I stare up at the clear sky, confusion warping my brain. It’s too thin to be snow, and this is summertime in southern California. It can’t be snowing.
Distorted shouts break through the ringing, and I turn toward the noise. That’s when I see my car. If you can call the twisted heap of metal sprawled on the road a car.
I recognize the light blue paint work and the dream catcher that Mom gave me hanging from the smashed rear view mirror, so it must be mine.
The driver door hangs open, the metal twisted and gaping. The airbag has been deployed, and a dark crimson smear slashes through it.
Whose blood is that?
I touch my forehead and my fingers come away red. Seeing the blood on my fingers sends a surge of panic through me, and pain comes crashing into my consciousness.
I’ve been in a car accident. A bad one by the looks of my car.
Trying not to panic, I do a mental check through my body. My head is throbbing and there’s blood on my lip, but I’m still breathing and nothing hurts too badly. Pushing up on my elbows, I try to stand up. That’s when I notice my leg. Pain stabs at my ankle so sharp that my vision blurs. There’s blood trickling and pooling at the bottom of my leggings, and the sight of so much makes my head feel light. I haul myself into a sitting position and try to piece together what happened.
I was driving to Monterey. I decided to take the Pacific Coast Highway for the views. I remember seeing the ocean for the first time, the indigo blue contrasting with the powder blue of the endless sky. The excitement cutting through the grief of the past few weeks.
As I kept driving, the blue sky turned a burnt shade of orange and then darkened.
I remember yawning as I passed hotels but didn’t want to stop and spend money when I was only a few hours out from my destination.
The last thing I remember was the sound of motorbikes on the road. The engines so loud it felt like they were surrounding me.
I remember swiveling in my seat to see why they were so noisy. How I smiled at the sight of a motorcycle gang on the highway, so quintessentially Californian.
There was a black van among the bikes, and I noticed too late how erratically it was driving.
I don’t remember what happened next. How I got hit or how I got from the wreck of my car to the middle of the road.
I just know that I'm hurt. I need help, and I need to get off the road.
Something light tumbles toward me on the road. A small rectangular piece of paper. I catch it in my fingers.
It's a $100 bill. And there’s more of them, fluttering across the road. I’m wondering what the hell money is doing in the road when there's a shout that pierces through the ringing in my ears.
I look up past my mangled car and for the first time really see the scene in front of me.
The black van is sideways across the road, the front dented and steam gushing from its engine. The side of it is mangled, two ends folding in on themselves, concertinaed together.
A bike lies sprawled on its side, front wheel turning slowly. The engine cuts through the ringing in my ears.
There’re at least half a dozen men, their voices panicked and angry. A man crab walks along the ground, snatching the one hundred dollar bills up with his thick hands as white powder floats around him.
I try to call out to him, but my breath catches. Something is wrong with this scene. Very wrong.
There's a man standing in the middle of the road. His arms are outstretched as he looks up at the sky as if asking WTF just happened.
His back is to me, and I can make out the symbol on his jacket: Underground Crows MC.
