by Cheree Alsop
I shot him a look. “You’re not a Black Rider. You’re a sidekick.”
He glowered at me. “I sure look like the Black Rider. And I’m not a sidekick, I’m a partner,” he concluded with a self-satisfied nod. He threw a rock and it echoed inside the can.
I rolled my eyes. “And what’s your name again? Night Pony?”
A curse escaped his lips. “What about Midnight Bullet?”
“By the time I say that, the crime will have already happened.”
He pitched a rock at me. I moved my foot just far enough to avoid it.
“Being a Black Rider is boring,” he said. “You think I could get them to take the time off my community service?”
Because Magnum had officially been only a hostage, an unarmed bystander during the shooting at the fair, the sheriff had let him off with only community service hours, but he hated every minute of it. I rolled my eyes and decided not to take up the argument again. “Let’s go patrol the roads. Maybe we’ll be lucky and find the guys who keep hitting the gas stations.”
“Maybe we can break in and steal the principal’s car.”
I shook my head. “Where did that come from?”
“It’s what I used to do when I was bored. He started leaving the keys by the door so we wouldn’t go rummaging through his house.” He shrugged. “We didn’t beat it up much.”
I gave him a sideways glance. “You really have some issues.”
“Seriously, city boy?” he shot back. “You’re the one who came up with the vigilante idea in the first place.”
“To stop you!”
He grinned. “How’d that work out for you? Now you get to put up with me all the time.”
“Lucky me,” I muttered.
“Better believe it,” he shot back, rising to his feet.
I climbed on my motorcycle and smiled. It didn’t matter what was going on in my life—the instant I sat on my bike, all my frustrations vanished. I didn’t care if we found the robbers or not. I was just happy to be on the motorcycle again.
I glanced at Magnum. “I’ve been meaning to ask how you like that bike.”
He slid his visor down and said from beneath the helmet, “It’s no CBR, but it’ll do.”
We both revved our engines and took off into the night. The hum of the tires on the road reverberated through my body, carrying away everything but thoughts of Madelyn. She had become my sacred place, my peace. As we took the turns, two midnight forms preceded only by headlights that lit bare circles on the worn pavement, I thought of her kiss, of holding her while she cried, of the taste of our tears. She broke me down like no other person had, yet she made me stronger and forced me to believe in myself by seeing the good I had thought long gone. I smiled at the stars and pressed the motorcycle to go faster.
TO MY SURPRISE, WE happened upon what looked exactly like the gas station robbers the sheriff told me about, except there were four of them instead of three. A beat-up old Charger was parked to the side of the last gas station before the interstate split. No other vehicle was in sight except for a rusted blue Chevy I assumed belonged to the gas station attendant.
I turned off my headlight and circled around back. I had forgotten to check if Magnum’s motorcycle had been rigged with the same ability. I let out a breath of relief when he turned off his light as well. Apparently the sheriff thought it might come in handy.
We pulled up behind the store and left our bikes in the shadows.
“This is it,” I said quietly. “Just stay calm and do what I do.”
He nodded, his eyes wide. I slid my dark-tinted visor shut and he did the same, effectively blocking out any view I had of his face. I took a breath to calm my pounding heart, then walked around the side of the station.
Two of the robbers were in front of the counter, another stood behind it with a gun to the cashier’s head, and the fourth wandered the aisles perusing candy and chips as though unconcerned by the terror they were putting the attendant through.
“We should call for backup,” Magnum whispered loudly.
“Do you have a cell phone?” I asked, realizing mine was still at the Ashbys’ plugged in on the lamp table by my cot.
He pulled a phone from his jacket, then shook his head. “Battery’s dead.”
The sheriff would be mad if we didn’t call, but at least the dead battery was a better excuse than forgetting the phone. I shrugged. “The attendant’s probably already alerted the police. If we don’t act now, they’ll leave with the money and maybe hurt the guy in the process.”
He let out a loud breath, but then gave a nod of his helmet to indicate he was on board.
I started toward the door, then paused in the shadows of the gas pumps. “We should try what we practiced at the junkyard.”
“What did we practice?” Magnum asked, his voice a bit tighter than usual.
“You know, the ‘I distract them, you jump out. Crap, there’s two Black Riders’ thing.”
He tipped his head toward the back door. “I go in that way?”
I nodded. “Check to see if it’s locked.”
The knob turned under his hand. I couldn’t read his expression through the tinted visor, but his voice was apprehensive when he said, “It’s open.”
“Just be careful and don’t take risks you don’t have to,” I said before leaving him there.
“How do I know if I don’t have to?” he asked in a loud whisper.
I didn’t answer because I hadn’t figured out that part either. I took a calming breath and pushed the front door open. “Hey, fellas, looks like I almost missed the party.”
The man with the gun tipped his head at me. “I ‘eard ‘bout you,” he drawled.
“Funny, I haven’t heard anything about you,” I replied.
The robber’s eyes narrowed. “From what I’ve ‘eard, you ain’t a pusho’er when it comes ta fightin’.”
I shrugged noncommittally.
“The silent type, eh?” he pressed. “We have ways of getting’ ya to talk.”
I gave a low chuckle. “Didn’t know I’d stepped into a B-rated movie about backwoods Mafias.”
His jaw clenched. One of the men closest to me took a step forward. He wore a straw cowboy hat that had been torn along the brim. “Let me rough ‘im up a bit, Charlie.”
The leader swore. “Now ya done it! Gone and blown all our covers, Frankie. Yur not supposed ta say names. He’s friends wi’ the cops!”
Cowboy hat stopped and glanced back at him. “All the more reason for me to shut ‘im up.”
During the exchange, the gas station attendant was inching to the right out of Charlie’s grasp. I took a step forward to keep the leader’s attention on me. “I’m game if Frankie is.”
He gestured with the gun. “You lose, I shoot you.”
My heart clenched at the thought of another bullet bruise; of course, he might just aim for my head. I was pretty sure helmets weren’t tested for their bullet-stopping abilities. The store clerk watched this exchange with wide eyes, his hand cautiously reaching to the right where the phone sat. My breathing slowed with the realization that he hadn’t called the police yet. The cops didn’t know the gas station was being hit.
Did the leader know that?
“You’d best be steppin’ back a bit,” he said as if in answer to my unspoken question. “Don’t wanna be grabbin’ that phone ‘n endin’ our little rally short now.”
The store clerk backed up against the far wall, his hands up and fingers trembling visibly. His blond hair stood up in moussed spikes. I wondered if he was any relation to Martin. It seemed the entire town of Sparrow was.
“Bring it on,” Cowboy Hat said. He moved a big wad of chewing tobacco from one side of his lip to the other, his grin revealing big bucked teeth outlined in brown juice.
I stepped forward, and his companion, a bald man with a black handkerchief around his mouth, stepped forward as well.
“What’s it like fightin’ in a helmet?” Cowboy Hat asked,
trying to distract me. “Get in the way much?”
I shrugged. “What do you think?”
He threw a punch and I ducked so his fist slammed against the side of my helmet. He let out a howl of pain while his three companions burst into laughter.
“It ain’t funny!” he shouted, which made them laugh even harder. He turned tear-filled eyes to me. “I think ya broke my hand.”
I shook my head. “You did that all on your own.”
The tall, skinny man who had been wandering the aisles was slowly making his way toward me. I turned slightly to the right to keep an eye on him. I wondered where Magnum was and if the Bullet leader could take him down; it was a little too late to find out his skill level.
“You’ll pay for that,” Cowboy Hat said. His bald companion swung a right hook.
I blocked the hook with my left arm and punched Baldie in the throat, then blocked a haymaker from Cowboy Hat and slammed the heel of my palm into his nose and chin. His head whipped back and he stumbled against the counter. Baldie attempted a kidney punch. I swept a low block and slammed my helmet into his nose.
A quick glance showed Magnum sneaking through the aisles from the back. He was almost to Toothpick, who had his full attention on our fight. The tall, skinny man hefted a glass bottle of ketchup. I blocked a punch and heard the leader shout, “Look out, there’s two of them!”
The bottle of ketchup hit the floor. I looked back to see Magnum punch Toothpick in the face again, followed by a blow to the stomach. Toothpick turned, up to the challenge. I realized by his stance that he was a brawler. He covered his head well and threw three punches for every one of Magnum’s. Magnum’s stomach and ribs got pummeled while Toothpick barely looked winded. Their fight took them through the aisle closest to me.
I blocked a poor attempt at a kick from Cowboy Hat, then turned and drove a jab into Toothpick’s ribs. He swore and turned, giving Magnum an opening. Baldie caught me in the ribs with a jab of his own. The force sent a rush of pain through every bullet bruise. I bit back a curse and slammed a two-handed punch into his chest hard enough to propel him back against the counter.
Cowboy Hat’s nose was bleeding and his lip was split, but he looked too angry to realize he was beaten. He came at me with both fists swinging. I grabbed a package of peanuts from the end of the aisle and threw it. It hit him in the face.
He caught the package before it fell to the ground and stared at it. “Did you just throw peanuts at me?” he demanded.
“Yes,” I replied, then landed a haymaker on his jaw with a loud crack and he fell to the floor.
Baldie tried to take a page out of my book and threw a package of chips at me. It hit my visor and I fought back a laugh. I dropped to the floor and spun as I kicked, sweeping his legs out from under him.
A quick glance showed Magnum backed against the door, his hands raised in an attempt to protect his body from the shower of blows Toothpick was raining down. I took a step and caught Toothpick with a glancing blow to the head as he turned. He put up his hands in a defensive guard, but I slammed two punches to his stomach, then one to his face when he dropped his arms to protect himself.
I drove another fist into his stomach. When he bent over, I caught him in the jaw with my knee, then drove an elbow into his back. He sprawled to the ground. Magnum stepped over him and slammed a fist into Baldie’s jaw, knocking him out cold.
“Not bad for a sidekick,” I said.
Magnum’s hands clenched into fists. “I’m not a sidekick. This is a sidekick.” He kicked Toothpick in the ribs.
“Enough,” the leader growled.
I turned to see him aim the gun at me.
His finger tightened on the trigger.
“You sure you want to do that?” I asked carefully. “Adding murder to theft is a big jump.”
“I’m sure,” he replied with a tight smile.
I held my breath, hoping he aimed for my heart where the vest would protect it.
Something flew through the air and hit the leader on the side of the head. I took advantage of the distraction, using my hands to propel me over the counter and on top of the man before he could react. We fell to the ground wrestling for the gun. He elbowed me in the throat, but I tipped my head so the helmet caught most of the blow. I jerked a knee between his legs, then rolled over and grabbed the gun firmly before twisting free and ripping it from his grasp.
“You got it?” Magnum called from the other side of the counter.
“Got it,” I replied, pushing myself up.
The leader glared at me, but the sight of the gun in my hand took the fight from his eyes.
“Call the police,” I told the attendant. He watched me with wide eyes, his face pale. When he made no move to comply, I glanced at Magnum. “Call Sheriff Bowley. Tell him we have his robbers.”
Three sheriff cars pulled up to the gas station a few minutes later. I met the sheriff out front as soon as the robbers were under control.
“Got to give you credit for the quick response,” I told him.
He tipped his hat and eyed the men who were being handcuffed and led to the waiting cars. “And you get credit for a smooth job. I look forward to watching the surveillance videos.”
“Let me know if you see any areas that need improvement,” I said.
He stared at me for a second, and then a chuckle escaped from him. “I’ll do that.”
We watched quietly as the leader was loaded into the car. “He jumped us!” the man protested. “We were set up! We were just here for gas.”
“Tell it to your attorney,” the officer said before shutting the door and blocking out further protests.
“The trio’s still out there,” the sheriff said.
I let out a slow breath. “You mean they weren’t the ones?”
He shook his head. “I was hoping, but they carry knives instead of guns, and their leader’s a big dude with tribal tattoos down one arm. You’ll know him when you see him.”
I nodded. “I’ll keep an eye out.”
The sheriff turned away, then paused. “Call us first next time. It might make the job a bit easier.”
“I keep forgetting my cell phone, and Magnum’s battery died.” I said apologetically.
The sheriff smoothed his short beard with one hand. “Isn’t that what a sidekick is for?”
Magnum let out a growl from where he waited by the motorcycles.
“What’s his deal?” Sheriff Bowley asked, his gaze thoughtful.
I shrugged. “He’s still struggling with a name he likes.”
“I’m sure when Martin figures out there’s two of you, he’ll come up with one himself,” the sheriff replied amiably.
I spoke before I finished thinking my words through. “I’d prefer it if Martin didn’t know.”
“Why is that?” he asked, his expression curious.
I shrugged, searching for a reason. “It might give us an edge if the people we’re up against think there’s only one Rider.”
Sheriff Bowley nodded with a slight crease to his forehead. “That makes sense. I’ll tell the boys not to mention it.”
“I’d appreciate that.” I held out a hand.
The sheriff shook it. “Call us next time.”
“I will,” I said, though we both knew I probably wouldn’t.
“YOU WENT ALL KUNG fu back there,” Magnum said while we wiped down the motorcycles in the junkyard.
“Not my best work,” I replied.
Magnum glanced up at my tone, then scowled. “Beating up the Bullets wasn’t your best work, either.”
I shrugged. “The odds were a little better.”
He turned back to his bike, but I could see the humor that tried to battle his glare. He finally said, “If you mean thirteen on one, given the way you fight, I might have to grant it to you. You’re kind of an all-or-nothing fighter.”
I looked at him curiously. “Meaning?”
He let out an exasperated breath. “Like you couldn’t care less abou
t your safety. I saw you take a punch in the ribs protecting me. I could have handled it.”
“I know you could have,” I said levelly.
“I could have,” he shot back.
I held up a hand. “I know,” I repeated. “Sometimes I’m not careful.”
He slowly wiped the spotless seat again. “Sparrow isn’t the end of the world. If they don’t get caught here, they’ll be caught somewhere else.”
I wiped off the gauges even though there wasn’t any dust on them. “I know. It just gives me something to keep my mind off things.”
He looked over at me. “What things?”
I shook my head and threw the rag at him. “That bag of M&Ms you chucked at the gunman changed everything back there.”
Magnum grinned. “I know. It was pretty awesome.” He chuckled. “You gave me the idea when you threw the peanuts at the other one.”
“I had to come up with something,” I admitted. “That blow to the ribs slowed me down.”
He laughed and put both rags and Jagger’s cleaner back on the porch. I stashed my bike in the lean-to next to the shack and Magnum parked his alongside it. I swung the door shut and looked at the four-wheeler. It was a paltry trade.
“See you around,” I said, sitting on the machine.
Magnum crossed to the rusty red Ford parked on the edge of Jagger’s lot. “Take care of yourself,” he called before starting up the engine.
I drove the four-wheeler slowly up the lane, then turned onto the main road. It took a few minutes before I realized the horizon was lighter than it should have been. I followed the road with my eyes and my heart slowed. Flames danced against the night sky where the Ashbys’ house was.
Magnum’s truck skidded to a halt beside the four-wheeler. “Get in!” he shouted.
I turned off the four-wheeler and climbed in, unable to speak or even breathe with the sight of the flames lapping at the midnight sky.
A brief glimmer of relief surfaced when I saw that it wasn’t the Ashby house but the barn that was on fire; shadows appeared within the doors.
“Someone’s in there,” I said to Magnum.
“Kelson, wait!” Magnum yelled, but I was already running across the lawn.
I ran through the doors, then froze at the sight of red, orange, and yellow tendrils lapping at the floor and walls of the massive barn. The cows were gone, and the straw on the floor of their stalls burned in fierce orange.