by Elle Casey
“Yeah, she does. She’s a nurse. Here’s the registration, too, by the way. You’ll need to show that to the DMV so they can put it in your name.”
Sarah took the paper from his hand, moving closer to the bike. “I’m just going to put all that stuff back in here,” she said, folding all the official documents in half and closing the waterproof bag over them, making sure not to catch anything in the zipper.
He took the money out of his pocket and counted it. When he was done he put it back and asked, “Do you know how to ride?”
Sarah took the helmet off the handle and pushed it down over her head. It was tight, and the thick cushioning inside pressed uncomfortably against her ponytail. She reached back and pulled the elastic around her hair out, breathing a sigh of relief over how much better it felt. Her head was super heavy now, but it was safely encased in all this space-age plastic and foam. “Yeah, I know how to ride. Kind of. Give me a quick lesson if you want.” Sarah gripped the handles and swung her leg over the seat, straddling the bike and sitting down gingerly. She realized immediately that it was a lot bigger than Jonathan’s scooter. Her heart rate picked up as she straightened the heavy machine out and felt the weight of it beneath her.
He frowned. “Yeah, okay … so that’s your accelerator there.” He pointed to the right handle. “And that’s your clutch,” he said, pointing to the left handle brake thingy. “Brake is over there. You shift the gear by pressing with your foot there. It’s basically like a manual transmission in a car.”
“You mean like a car with a clutch?”
“Yeah. Manual. As opposed to automatic. You do have your driver’s license, right?”
“Yes, of course I do. I got it. So first gear, second gear, third gear …”
“Yeah, you have to just get a feel for the different gears, when to shift, when to downshift. You’ll stall if you don’t go down fast enough, just like a car.”
Sarah turned the key in the ignition. Nothing happened. She frowned, not sure what the heck was going on. “It’s not working. It’s broken.”
Mike stepped closer to the front of the motorcycle. “Are you sure you’ve driven a bike before? It’s not the easiest thing in the world to do, you know.”
“Yeah, I’m sure. It’s just been a while. I’m used to … something smaller than this.” Jonathan’s scooter started with a little red button by the handle. She was scanning for something red all over the place and couldn’t see it.
Mike sighed. “Alright. Just turn the key like you did, and then press this button.” He reached over and pressed a gray button, the engine turning over a few times before catching. Mike put his hand over hers on the right handle bar and twisted it back a few times, giving the engine some gas and making it roar with life.
“Whoa … that’s loud,” said Sarah, her heart racing right along with the horses that wanted to break free from their reins and race this motorcycle across the parking lot.
“Yeah. It’s not as bad as a Harley, but people will hear you coming. Anyway, when you’re ready to go, just ease off on the clutch here … and twist the handle here. The bike will pull forward pretty fast if you give it too much gas, and it’s easy to lose control, so be careful.” He backed away, leaving Sarah alone.
“So I just turn my right hand and let out the clutch in my left?” she shouted.
“Yeah! But put up the kickstand first!” he shouted over the roar of the engine she kept revving.
She couldn’t help it - it was addicting, hearing that sound. She leaned down, the helmet so heavy it made her feel like her head was just going to roll right off her shoulders. The visor or bottom part of the helmet made it difficult to see the ground just under her. “How do I do that?!” she yelled.
Mike walked over and tapped his foot on the black metal stick by her left foot and it popped back into place. “Good luck, Beulah. Take care of my baby.”
“Don’t worry, Mike. I got it under control. My dad’s gonna be thrilled.” Sarah twisted the handle, letting the engine roar to life again, and slowly, slowly let up on the clutch. She squealed with delight and fear as the bike began to crawl forward, the revving of the engine getting louder and louder as she twisted it back more in her excitement.
“Too much power!” yelled Mike. “Too much! Let it go!”
Sarah barely heard him, letting the clutch out even more. Then it slipped in her sweaty fingers and popped out the rest of the way, throwing the bike forward. She nearly flipped off the back, her legs flying up involuntarily, her death grip on the handlebars keeping her just barely in her seat. She recovered her balance in time to realize she was headed right for the plaza sidewalk and a pole that held up the overhanging part of the roof.
“Aaahhhh!” she screamed, trying to keep the wiggling, swaying bike that seemed to have a mind of its own from collapsing and sending her into a death slide across the pavement.
By some miracle, it straightened up, and her right hand lost its grip on the handle, letting the accelerator go back to its neutral position. The engine immediately stopped racing the bike forward and stalled, allowing her to coast to a very ungraceful stop about six inches from the edge of the sidewalk.
Mike came running over, a big grin on his face. “Not bad, Beulah!” He clapped her hard on the back. “My wife totally wrecked it the first time she tried it. That was the first time that also ended up being the last time she ever rode it.”
“Thanks,” said Sarah, weakly, wondering why she hadn’t peed her pants. She looked down just to be sure she hadn’t.
“No prob. Hey, thanks for the cash. I hope your dad’s happy with it.”
“I’m sure he will be,” said Sarah, her heart slowly getting back to its normal rhythm. She reached up a shaking hand and pressed the ignition button, making sure to pull the clutch in first. The engine started right up, rumbling and humming, in a way calling her and daring her to try again.
She gritted her teeth and flared her nostrils, psyching herself up for what had to happen. “I. Can. Do this,” she chanted to herself, now seeing the bike as a living breathing thing … challenging her to try and take it under her control.
She pressed her lips together in concentration and twisted the handle a little, easing up on the clutch and holding her legs out stiffly to the side. The bike pulled smoothly forward, only wavering the tiniest bit. She turned the handles so she could stay in the parking lot and not kill any pedestrians, letting the slow speed take her around to point back towards the car where she was supposed to meet Candi. Her legs relaxed, and she pulled them in to rest on the small black rubber-covered pegs.
She smiled at her newly discovered skills, as she cruised confidently through the lot towards their meeting point at the Camry. She shifted as smooth as silk and let out a whoop of joy over it. For the first time in her life, she totally got why guys were so nuts over motorcycles.
Her joy was short-lived, however. As she drew near the car, she looked up towards the store hoping to see Candi coming out. Her friend was at the door now, the duffle bag full and on her back. Everything seemed perfect until Sarah noticed who else was there.
The police officer who’d been harassing them in the copy shop was standing at her side, one hand resting on the butt of his gun and the other on the end of his nightstick. “Oh, fuck me,” she whispered to herself. Now what the hell are we going to do?
Chapter Seven
Close Call
CANDI STOOD AT THE ENTRANCE to the grocery store in full-on, level-ten panic-mode. Her whole body was shaking with nerves, and she had to keep coughing just to keep her throat open. She refused to look at the cop who’d followed her out, knowing if she saw his suspicious eyes she’d probably start crying. She was super close to bawling as it was, and he hadn’t done anything except stand in line with her and ask her a bunch of questions about what she’d been doing in town and where she lived.
“I’ll walk you to your car. Can I carry that for you?” he asked, gesturing to the duffle bag she’d slung acros
s her back.
“No, thanks. I’m walking. No car.”
“But I thought you said you were driving back home today. You must have a car somewhere.”
“Yeah, we do. But not here. We walked here. From where we’re staying.”
“Oh. Where are you staying? At a hotel?”
Candi breathed out a loud sigh. “No. Not at a hotel.” She searched the lot for Sarah, but couldn’t see her. There were too many cars blocking her view. She could hear what sounded like a motorcycle somewhere, but she had no idea if it was Sarah out there or just someone else who couldn’t help her get out of this mess.
“So where are you staying then?”
Candi tried to think of a lie, but they just weren’t coming anymore. She’d pulled all kinds of facts about San Francisco out of her butt to answer his earlier questions, garbage based on stuff she’d seen in movies, but she was totally tapped out now. Her lying reservoir was dry.
She turned to face him, angry that he’d pushed her to this point. “What difference does it make? I mean, really?”
He stared at her, his head jerking back a little in surprise. “No difference. I was just curious.”
“Yeah, well, your curiosity is starting to feel like an interrogation. Do you mind?” Candi was shaking so bad her voice was coming out all funny.
He shifted his weight to rest on his right leg. “No, I don’t mind. But it seems you do.”
Candi frowned at him, channeling as much pissed-off-Sarah-Peterson vibe as she could into her body. Her voice sounded stronger now. “Yeah. As a matter of fact, I do mind. I’m allowed to walk around a town as a tourist and buy some stupid groceries without being harassed by local law enforcement, aren’t I?”
He nodded slowly. “In most cases, yes. But in some cases, no.”
“Like what kind of cases?” she asked, shooting for distain and arrogance in her tone, but not sure if she’d pulled it off or not. Mostly she just felt terrified.
“Well, if you’re a minor and you’re supposed to be in school, that’s a problem. If you’re a runaway, that’s also a problem.”
She snorted. “Pfft. Yeah, right. Whatever. Just … whatever. Leave me alone. I’m busy, and I’m not doing anything wrong. I’m an American citizen, and I have a right to do what I want and not be bothered with a million questions.”
He opened his mouth to say something else, but the roar of a nearby motorcycle cut him off.
Candi didn’t know whether to cry with joy or fall into hysterics with the fear that overcame her when Sarah pulled up alongside them riding a big, black, and very loud motorcycle. If it hadn’t been for her friend’s ridiculous Wal-Mart shorts, Candi wouldn’t have even recognized her with that helmet on. She looked like a giant, skinny bug.
“Ready to go?!” yelled Sarah, flipping up her visor and then reaching behind her to wrestle the other helmet off the back.
Candi nodded, feeling numb to the bone. She decided neither crying nor hysterics were going to work now. She just had to go into robo-mode and block out all ideas of fear or pain until they were far, far away. She’d fall apart completely when it was safe to do it.
She took the helmet from Sarah and pulled it down over her head, her shaking fingers unable to get the buckle under her chin right. She gave up trying to fix it and adjusted the duffle bag on her back so it was as centered as possible. Steadying herself on one leg, she swung the other over, climbing onto the back of the bike and sliding forward until she was pressed up against Sarah’s back. She wrapped her arms around Sarah’s middle, put her foot up on the pegs Sarah had pulled down with her toes, and nodded. “Let’s go.”
Sarah looked at the police officer who was still standing on the sidewalk, now with a slightly stunned look on his face. “See ya later, Officer Feel Good.” She smacked her visor down and roared away from the curb. The bike swayed enough to elicit a scream of terror from Candi’s mouth before it finally straightened out. Sarah weaved it smoothly through the lanes of parked cars to the road that awaited just beyond the plaza.
“Is he following us?” screeched Candi, her hands in fists as they squeezed Sarah’s shirt for all they were worth.
“He can try,” said Sarah, twisting her right hand backwards and sending the bike lurching out into traffic. She was headed in the opposite direction they needed to be going in to get back to the cabin. “But he won’t be able to catch us.”
Candi squeezed her eyes shut and gripped Sarah’s abdomen as tight as she could without taking her friend’s breath away. The wind was buffeting her body, and the constant roaring of the engine filled her ears, but the only thing she could think to do was pray. Words she hadn’t spoken since the second grade in Sunday school came flooding into her mind: Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be they name …
***
Jonathan heard the drone of a motor off in the distance. He was working with the dogs on basic obedience commands, learning in pretty short order that Xena was highly-trained and that James really wasn’t at all. He’d spent over an hour trying to get James to focus on the commands for sit and stay. Jonathan hadn’t done this kind of work in a long time, but he didn’t recall it being this difficult before.
As soon as James realized Jonathan’s attention was diverted by the approaching engine, he took off running towards the sound, barking.
Jonathan sighed. So much for stealth.
Kevin came walking out of the woods, holding a bow and a quiver of arrows. He’d been practicing for hours, working on just hitting the target at all. Archery was a lot more difficult than it seemed in the movies. Jonathan had tried but eventually gave up in favor of training the dogs.
“That them, you think?” he asked.
“Yeah. But I only hear the motorcycle and not the car. Maybe Candi pulled ahead.”
The vision of the girls appeared from around the corner. “Or maybe there is no car anymore,” said Kevin, watching as the black motorcycle with two riders entered the weed-filled yard that surrounded the house and eventually came to a stop at the bottom of the stairs. The driver shut off the engine and pulled off her helmet, letting it dangle from her fingers at her side. The passenger climbed off the bike and then fell down in the weeds at her feet, unmoving. The duffle bag sat on her back, looking as if it had just tackled her and taken her out.
Kevin leaped down the stairs in one huge step, Jonathan right on his heels.
“Sarah!” Jonathan shouted at his girlfriend, who sat straddling the machine with a big smile on her face. She hooked the helmet strap over the handle bar and ran her fingers through her hair.
“Candi, what’s wrong?” asked Kevin, concern making him sound angry. He reached her side and gently rolled her over onto her back, pushing the duffle bag off to the ground nearby. She was shuddering on the ground, as if having small seizures. “What’d you do?” he growled at his sister before pulling Candi up by the armpits to get her to stand.
“I didn’t do anything. She’s just having a panic attack or something.” Sarah swung her leg off the bike and pushed the kickstand down. She held onto the handles and tested the strength of the stand a little before letting go. When she seemed assured it wouldn’t fall, she released her grip and turned to face Jonathan, her face practically glowing with happiness.
“Where’s the car?” asked Jonathan, stunned to say the least. He wasn’t able to compute exactly what was happening yet; he needed more facts.
“The car is in the grocery store parking lot where it probably needs to stay. We had to outrun a cop to get back here un-arrested.”
“What?” asked Jonathan, his voice going up a higher level than normal.
Kevin was trying to get Candi’s helmet off, but she wasn’t helping so it seemed to be stuck.
“I said we had to outrun a cop. It was no big deal, though. He totally ate our dust.”
“Help me get this off of her,” said Kevin, speaking loudly to be heard over Candi’s weird moaning.
Before Jonathan could comply, Sarah wal
ked over with her finger held out. “All you have to do is press her release valve.”
Sarah hadn’t even closed half the distance between them before Candi had gripped the side of her helmet, pushed it off her head, and dropped it to the ground. “Touch me with that finger, and I’ll punch your lights out!” screeched Candi, putting her fists up like she was ready to fight.
“Hey, hey, heeyyyy,” said Kevin, pulling her up against his body, “what’s going on here?”
Candi started bawling into his chest, her arms falling limply to her sides.
Sarah turned, smiling again. “See? I told you she was fine.” She walked over to join Jonathan.
“She doesn’t look fine to me,” said Jonathan, frowning at his sister who was now being carried up the porch steps to the cabin.
Sarah took his hand and laced her fingers through his. “Trust me. She just had a little bit of a close-call with this nosy cop who made her tell like a hundred lies, and it finally just broke her. I got there just in time to keep her from spilling the beans.”
Sarah walked, dragging him over to the bike. “See what we got? Nice, right? Fifteen hundred bucks. It’s worth at least twice that, maybe more. The title and registration are in that bag there.”
Jonathan nodded, a little numb right now over the mixed-up facts zipping around in his brain trying to connect themselves to each other into a cohesive story. Sarah let go of his hand to pick up the duffle bag. She handed it to him, and he was surprised to see how heavy it was.
“Those are the groceries. There’s some meat in there and there were some eggs, but they’re probably broken now thanks to Candi’s breakdown.” Sarah sighed loudly. “Total bummer, right? I was so looking forward to an omelette.”
Jonathan followed her quietly into the cabin, trying to unzip the bag as they went. “So what exactly happened with the car? Did you get pulled over?” When he reached the kitchen he set the groceries gently down on the counter.