by Davis, James
Dan nodded.
“I understand. Let’s go get you a bike.” he said as he headed for the collection of bikes. Clay made his way over to the section with all of the Dynas and stopped next to a black Super Glide Sport. He looked up at Dan with a huge grin on his face. Dan saw the pure joy in Clay’s eyes and started to chuckle.
“Go ahead and hop on her and see how she fits.” Clay didn’t waste any time. He sat down on the seat and raised it up off its kickstand, feeling the full weight of the machine between his legs. Clay started to nod emphatically.
“Yep, this is the one right here!” Clay said, his voice full of excitement. Dan laughed, as he stepped over next to Clay.
“That right there is the entire reason I got into this business, the pure joy guys like you get on your face when you sit down on a brand-new Harley.”
“Do you ride?” Clay asked. Dan shook his head, his gaze traveled off.
“Used to all of the time until I laid it down. Spent three months in the hospital and the wife wouldn’t let me get another one after that, so I started selling them.” Dan said as he took a seat on the bike right next to Clay.
“I don’t have anything stopping me from riding now though.” Dan said, a faint smile on his face. Clay looked at him and said.
“You should go for a ride. I’m sure she would want you to be happy, especially in this new world we all live in.” Dan didn’t bother replying, instead he got up from the bike and waved Clay over to a rack of leathers and winter gear.
“You’ll need all of this stuff as well. It’s going to start getting real cold outside before too long.” Dan said as he pulled a set of leathers from the rack and handed them to Clay. He stepped over to another rack that held thick sub-zero coveralls. He handed a pair of those to Clay as well, before walking over to another rack that had helmets and gloves all over it.
“You’ll need a helmet, gloves and a decent pair of riding boots as well.” Dan said as he waved a hand at the rack full of stuff. Clay grabbed a solid black full-face helmet, a pair of gloves, and finally a nice pair of Harley riding boots.
“Yep, that stuff will keep you nice and toasty when it starts getting cold out there.” Dan said.
“I wish I had more to give you for all of this.” Dan waved him off.
“Roll that bike down here to the door and then follow me.” Once Clay had the bike by the door, he got off of it and followed Dan around to the mechanic shop. Dan pulled out a flashlight and started poking around inside the shop. He stopped at a large can of gas and picked it up. Seeing that it was full he handed it off to Clay.
“That should be enough to fill your bike up.” Dan said as he turned and headed back to the main showroom. After Clay had the bike full of fuel and had all of his gear loaded in the saddle bags, he turned to look at Dan.
“I can’t thank you enough for all of this.” Clay said.
“Eh, don’t you worry about it. I’m happy to do it.” Dan replied with a wave of his hand.
“Dan, why don’t you load up and come with me?” Clay asked. Dan shook his head.
“No sir. I’m not going anywhere. I won’t leave my Shirley or my shop behind.” Dan replied.
“Are you sure I can’t change your mind?” Clay asked.
“I said no boy, now get your ass on that bike and get on outta here!” Dan said with a chuckle. Clay smiled at the old man and nodded as he said.
“Alright then. You take care of yourself and thank you for everything.” Clay added. Dan gave Clay a quick nod before raising the bay door. They shook hands one last time and Clay climbed on the bike. He flipped up the kickstand and turned on the headlight before pushing the electric start button. The bike rumbled to life with that signature throaty roar as Clay slid his helmet down over his head. Dan stepped over to him and gave the helmet a quick pat.
“Be damn careful out there and get yourself home!” Dan shouted. Clay gave him a thumbs up and then pulled in the clutch. He pushed the gear selector down once into first gear and slowly let out the clutch as he eased back on the throttle. As soon as he was rolling Clay brought his feet up to the foot pegs and gunned it. He glided through the gears with ease as he raced out of the parking lot and onto the road.
Chapter Six
Hank followed Bear through the woods for what seemed like hours. They hadn't seen any sign of Clay, or anyone else for that matter.
Bear slowed his pace and then came to a full stop. "Let’s stop here and have a bite to eat." He suggested.
Hank nodded. "I could eat." he said, kicking a few dead leaves away from the base of the nearest tree. He removed his pack and sat down against the tree. Bear followed suit, plopping down next to a tree a few feet away.
He reached into the large duffle bag, retrieving a large plastic bag full of venison. He held the bag out towards Bear, who reached in and pulled out a large chunk of the meat.
"So, Hank, how'd you end up in the middle of all this anyway." Bear asked, biting into his steak and ripping a piece off with his teeth.
Hank shrugged "We got lucky, I guess. Right place right time, wrong place wrong time. Pick one." he said, pausing to grab a piece of meat from the bag before continuing. "It was about survival at first, but then they started grabbing people, forcing them to work, killing them, how could we sit idle while that was happening around us? We saw enough death in Iraq to last a lifetime.”
Bear listened, taking in his words "You did what you had to do, Hank. You fought for what you believe in, even when winning was illogical. You're a true warrior." he said, as he looked out over the horizon.
"We lost good men…and women, but we aren't any closer to achieving anything real." Hank replied.
"You do what you can, you keep fighting. As long as you fight, those lives weren't lost in vain. It's not until you give up that you fail them."
Hank opened his mouth to reply, but Bear held a hand up to silence him. He seemed to listen intently. Hank listened silently for a few seconds before the sound of an engine became clearer and louder.
Bear motioned for Hank to follow as he slowly crept toward the edge of the woods. They watched as a green Jeep pulled to the side of the road and shut off. The driver exited the Jeep and made a beeline for the woods. The second man called something to him they couldn't quite make out.
The man waved him off, never looking back. He made it to the edge of the woods, stopping at a large tree and unzipping his pants.
Hank got down on one knee and raised his rifle towards the man. Bear quickly placed his hand on the muzzle, gently pressing downward. He placed his pack on the ground and slowly pulled out three small hatchets with wooden handles.
Bear crept toward the man as silently as he could and stopped about thirty feet away, grabbing one of hatchets in his right hand as he crept just a few more steps ahead.
He raised the axe and took aim at the soldier who was now relieving himself on the base of the tree. He released the hatchet, sending it sailing through the air. The hatchet embedded itself deep in the side of the man's skull. The soldier's eyes went wide as the axe made impact, sending bits of splintered skull flying. Blood oozed from the wound as his lifeless body crashed to the forest floor.
Bear approached the corpse and placed his boot on the side of the man's face and gave the bloody hatchet a hard yank, dislodging it.
He exited the woods, moving toward the lone soldier, still seated in the Jeep. The man turned to see the large man rushing toward him, hatchet raised over his head. Quickly becoming panicked at the terrifying sight, he reached for his rifle.
As he struggled to raise his rifle, Bear let the hatchet fly. The man turned toward him, a scream escaped his lips only a second before the hatchet slammed into the center of his face. The scream morphed into something more closely resembling choking and groaning as the blood poured from his face.
Bear reached the Jeep, pulling a large knife from the sheath on his belt. The man had abandoned all attempts to lift his rifle at this point and was futilely gras
ping at the axe planted in his face. Bear quickly dragged the knife across the man's throat.
He threw the door open and grabbed the handle of his axe, pulling it hard, sending the man crashing to the ground beside the jeep and freeing the axe from his skull. The man gurgled and choked, as his own blood filled his lungs. With a final heave of his chest his body fell still and the light left his eyes.
Hank emerged from the woods carrying Bear's bag. He jogged across the field, looking over the gruesome scene as he approached the Jeep.
"We can cover more ground in this." Bear said
Hank nodded. "Clay would have found a ride by now I suppose, and he’s got a half day on us."
"Let’s ride then, before anyone comes looking for them." Bear replied, pointing toward the dead man on the ground. "I'll drive."
"Fine with me." Hank said, opening the door and climbing into the passenger's seat. Bear climbed into the driver's seat and twisted the key. The engine roared to life. He moved the shifter to drive and pressed the gas. The Jeep lurched forward as he steered back onto the road.
"Give me a few hours and I'll take over." Hank said, sinking back into his seat and closing his eyes.
Bear drove for the next few hours hearing nothing but the sound of a snarling grizzly bear that was Hank’s snoring. He reached down and cracked the window. The cool autumn air rushed in across his face, blowing through his long black hair. He hadn't had to slow down often, whoever had been driving this road had done him the service of moving enough stalled cars to create a pathway.
He opened his mouth and let out a long yawn before drumming a few times on the steering wheel with his hands and glancing into the rearview mirror.
"Shit!" he exclaimed, seeing two Jeeps looking a lot like the one he and Hank had commandeered a few hours earlier fast approaching. He reached over, giving Hank a quick slap on the chest.
Hank jumped in his seat, his right hand instinctively reaching for his pistol. He glanced around confused. Seeing nothing amiss, his expression morphed into annoyance. He looked over at Bear who lifted his hand, pointing his thumb towards the back of the Jeep.
Hank looked over his shoulder, immediately noticing the quickly approaching vehicles. "Already?" He groaned, "can you lose them?"
Bear shrugged "We can try." he said, slamming the gas to the floor. The truck shot forward, the vehicles behind sped up, keeping pace with the men. Hank watched in the mirror as a man leaned out of the passenger window, lifted his rifle and fired a long burst toward the Jeep. Bear cursed and swerved into the next lane as bullets slammed into their ride, one shattering the side mirror.
He grabbed the wheel and veered left hard, leaving the road and racing across a large clearing. Brightly colored leaves drifted into the air as the Jeep sped through them.
"Hold on!" Bear said, as he hit a large hill, the truck left the ground for a few seconds before crashing down, jostling the two men in their seats.
Across the clearing, several small houses came into view. Bear steered toward the nearest one, driving between two small brick houses and making a sharp left turn onto the street. He drove a few blocks and made another quick right.
He came to a stop at the entrance to a large, shabby trailer park. He quickly maneuvered into a spot under a makeshift carport, consisting of four large poles and a blue tarp. Bear shifted into park and turned off the engine.
The men quickly jumped out, unsheathing his knife and sliced through the rope holding the tarp in place on each pole, letting it fall on top of the Jeep before sheathing his knife and sprinting to the front door of the nearest trailer. He twisted the silver knob on the dirty white door but it didn't budge.
"Over here!" Hank hissed, standing next to the open door of an old brown and white trailer. The windows had been covered with plywood, and it was clear this trailer hadn't had a good cleaning even before the collapse.
Bear jumped off of the porch and ran across the gravel, following Hank into the trailer. He pushed the door closed and twisted the lock.
"Hey! Who the hell are you?" An unfamiliar voice asked from behind them
Hank spun around to see a tall skinny man in his fifties. He wore a dirty brown shirt and his greasy grey hair framed the bald spot that covered the top of his head.
"We don't want any trouble, old timer, we just need to lay low for a bit." Bear said, holding his empty hands up in front of him.
The man shook his head, lifting a 7 mm rifle and aiming it toward Bear's face. "You better tell me who you are and what you're doing in my house right now. You C.I.A.? FBI? I knew you'd show up sooner or later." he replied, taking the measure of the two men standing in front of him.
Hank and Bear exchanged glances. "Do we look like any of those things?" Bear asked, growing impatient.
"They never do. They come around here dressed like regular people. Thinking they're gonna fool old Ellis. Ain't happened yet, ain't gonna happen."
"Ellis," Hank said, holding up his hands and taking a step toward the old man "they're after us too. We aren't with any of those organizations. The government got us into this mess and I can prove it. In two minutes, U.N soldiers are going to be all over this park and if they take us, no one is ever going to know the truth."
Ellis stared silently at Hank for a long moment. Hank braced himself, certain he was about to meet his maker. No one spoke or moved for several seconds.
"Son of a bitch, I knew it!" the old man almost yelled, a little too enthusiastically. "They thought I was crazy, a conspiracy theorist even. A blind man can see what the government’s been up to!" He lowered his rifle. Bear blinked in disbelief at what he was hearing. He made eye contact with Hank, who shrugged quickly.
The sound of an approaching vehicle filled their ears and then stopped, followed by several car doors closing.
"Come on Ellis, we need to hide or we're gonna have to fight. Can you help us or not?" Bear said, a hint of urgency in his voice. They could hear men outside speaking in what sounded like Russian and beating on various trailer doors.
"Come on." he instructed, leading them down the hallway and into a room at the far end of the trailer. "Help me with this." he instructed as he began to push a large dresser to the side. He reached down, grabbing a handful of very old looking shag carpet and lifting it up, bringing a panel of the floor along with it.
Hank quickly climbed down into the hole followed by Bear. Ellis replaced the panel and they heard the dresser being shoved back into place above them.
The hole led directly beneath Ellis' home. It was wet, muddy, and smelled like a mixture of mold and sewage. Light shone through the cracks in the metal around the bottom of the trailer.
Several loud bangs shook the walls around them as the soldiers made their way to their trailer. Hank could hear muffled voices, followed by footsteps directly above them.
“Have you seen these men?” A deep voice said in a thick Russian accent.
“Does it look like I can see anything you dumb bastard?” Ellis replied.
“What are you blind, old man?” Another voice said, Ellis chuckled.
“You damn commies aren’t very bright, are you? Yes, I’m as blind as a damn bat!” The sound of shuffling feet quickly followed by a wet choking sound filled the damp space below.
“Hurry up and put him out of his misery. We don’t have all day.” One of the Russian men said. A few seconds later a loud thud sounded above Bear and Hank’s heads, causing them to look at one another with wide eyes.
“Those bastards just killed him!” Hank said as he tried to climb up out of the hole. Bear put a hand on his chest and said in a barely audible voice.
“We can’t do anything for him now.” Hank pushed his hand away and said.
“We can kill those murdering bastards!”
“Keep your voice down!” Bear scolded. Hank’s face turned into a twisted visage of anger as he sucked in a deep breath to shout at his Indian friend but Bear raised a finger to his mouth and pointed to the floor above.
; “Did you hear that?” The Russian voice sounded. Hank’s face turned from anger to deep concern as the footsteps seemed to be all clustered around the spot just above their heads.
“Come on they’re not here. Let’s go!” One of the Russians said before the sound of their footsteps heading toward the other end of the trailer eased the panic in Hank and Bear’s chests. Dust rained down all around Hank and Bear as the Russians left the trailer. Taking a deep breath Hank suddenly sucked in a lungful of dust and started coughing loudly. Bear smacked Hank’s arm and then put a hand over his mouth as Hank tried his best to stifle the coughing fit, but it was too late.
“I told you I heard something!” The Russian said emphatically. His footsteps pounded the floor as he ran back to the room above Hank and Bear.
“Come out now!” The man said before firing several rounds into the closet above. Bear started pushing Hank to move toward the under skirting so they could get out from under the trailer and at least fight the Russians off. More gunshots plowed through the walls above as Hank and Bear got to the edge of the trailer and began to remove the metal panels as quietly as they could. The rusty metal panel let out an ear-piercing screech as Bear pulled on it and the noise above them stopped. Hank and Bear stared at the floor for a long minute until more shots jolted them out of their daze. A large hole opened up in the floor only a few feet behind them.
“Quick! They’re under the trailer!” The Russian shouted, just as Bear finally knocked the piece of under skirting out of their way.
Chapter Seven
The fall wind chilled Clay’s neck as it found the only bare skin that the cold weather gear didn’t cover.
Should have grabbed a scarf too. he thought as he leaned the bike left and right, navigating it down the mountain road. The sky above was starting to turn deep shades of blue and grey as the sun started its ascent over the eastern horizon behind him. He came up over a hilltop and started down the other side keeping his eyes open for signs of roadblocks or looters ahead of him. He spotted a Jiffy Lube ahead and decided to stop there for the day to get some food and rest. Clay started to slow the bike as he neared the parking lot entrance, eventually coming to a stop just outside of the closed bay door.