by Jeff Stone
“But Lin Tan is fine,” I said.
“We don’t know that,” Hok said. “You should at least wait awhile and see what happens to him before considering the antidote.”
“How much more do you have?” I asked.
“Enough for five doses, so put it out of your mind. We will return to Uncle Tí’s schedule for weaning you from the substance. If the large dose you were given yesterday has thrown things off, we will adjust accordingly. Your mother and I have already discussed it.”
I looked at my mother.
She nodded.
“All right,” I said.
“Good!” my mom said. “Let’s get moving, sunshine. I’m anxious to see you guys ride.” She winked.
I rolled my eyes and got out of bed.
I joined the others in the kitchen and ate lunch while my mom picked up the van. Then we loaded the bikes and hit the road. Instead of going directly to Peter’s, my mom drove us to the race location, which wasn’t too far from Chinatown. The short, mile-long race route was posted online, and my mom had printed out a copy. We followed the route loop three times before we were satisfied. The race organizers seemed to have gone out of their way to select as many hills as possible. A section of the hill we’d ridden last night was even included. It was going to be tough.
The route passed within blocks of DuSow’s warehouse, and though we couldn’t see the warehouse from the route, we could see his docks from one of the taller hills. There was no sign of The Strong Hold.
Finally, we headed south. As we rolled into Peter’s driveway, Ms. Bettis was out walking her dog, and she waved to us. I’d nearly forgotten about her and my crashing Peter’s handcycle. It seemed like months ago, but it had been less than two weeks. Crazy.
I retrieved Peter’s spare key from its hiding place, and we put the bikes in the garage. This included the bike Jake had “borrowed” from DuSow. For some reason, DuSow hadn’t taken it back when he and his goons left Hok’s, so we brought it with us. My mom asked Jake if he wanted her to buy him a new one, but he said, “No way!” He thought the bike would give him good mojo when racing against DuSow’s team. I hoped he was right.
My mom had purchased, however, handlebar-mounted bike lights for us. She got them back in Indiana, and she brought them with her on the flight. She also brought small gear bags to hang beneath our bike seats so that we could carry a cell phone and identification in case we ever got into a wreck. We unloaded these things, as well, and headed into the house.
The first thing we did once we were inside was rock-paper-scissors to take showers. I got to go first. It took me ten minutes to wash all the San Francisco road funk out of my hair. Vented helmets were great for airflow, but lousy for keeping bits of asphalt, dirt, and flying insects out of your scalp. The hot shower felt awesome.
After I’d finished, I sat down with my mom and my computer tablet to try to find places for us to train at night.
“We need a well-lit subdivision for the first few nights,” my mom said, “then progressively darker ones to mimic the race route conditions you’ll experience.”
I used Internet map software to identify possible nearby locations, and then daytime satellite images to help determine which subdivisions had streetlights and which didn’t. However, as I’d seen last night in San Francisco, just because a street had lights didn’t mean they worked, so we’d have to do a little reconnaissance.
Which is exactly what we did.
After everyone was cleaned up, we grabbed some food at a local restaurant and headed out. We drove for hours first in daylight, then darkness. We found a few suitable subdivisions, a couple of which had hills. None of us were looking forward to riding those hills, but we knew we had to in order to simulate the race conditions.
We discussed race strategy as we drove, and my mom explained the importance of our working together.
“Criteriums are solo races,” she said, “but a rider can increase his or her odds of winning dramatically by working with others.”
“Yeah,” I said, “Peter told us that. But is it legal?”
“It’s frowned upon by certain crit riders, but it isn’t against the rules. The primary advantage to forming your own pack is protection. Criteriums are quite physical. Riders jostle for position the entire time, with elbows and knees flying freely. Pack members can protect themselves better by forming walls or wedges to keep the other riders away, depending on the situation.”
“What about equipment?” Hú Dié asked. “I modified my bike before I raced in a criterium, and it helped a lot.”
“You won’t be able to do that,” my mom said. “Serious crit racers use custom bikes with a shorter wheelbase to help them steer quicker and control the bike better overall. They’re more cramped and uncomfortable to ride than a regular road bike, but the race is only an hour, so the discomfort is worth it. Unfortunately, we don’t have the time to find someone to chop up your bikes and put them back together in time for the race.”
“I can do it,” Hú Dié said.
My mom shook her head. “I know you build bicycles and Peter has a shop right here, but besides cutting sections out of the frames and welding them back together, you’d have to make other modifications. It’s complicated.”
“It’s not that bad,” Hú Dié said. “I’d just have to cut down everyone’s cranks so that our toes wouldn’t bump the front tires on sharp turns. I’ve done it a bunch of times for cyclocross racers. It worked great. Let me give it a try. I’ll do my bike first and show you.”
“She’s very good,” Phoenix said. “Fast, too. If she says she can do it, she means it.”
“I give in,” my mom said. “I’ll let you modify yours, Hú Dié, and we’ll see how long it takes you and how well it performs.”
We got back to Peter’s, and Hú Dié went straight to the garage while the rest of us went to bed. I wasn’t at all surprised when I woke the next morning to find that Hú Dié had been up all night, modifying her bike. It worked perfectly, and my mom was blown away. She gave Hú Dié the green light to do the same thing to ours. Hú Dié went to sleep, asking to be woken up a few hours before we’d have to go train in the dark.
We fell into a routine from that point on, following Hú Dié’s lead of sleeping most of the day and staying up most of the night. My mom thought it would help us have more energy for the nighttime race, and she was right.
When race day came, we felt great. We’d trained as hard as we could, and since my mom’s experience with bicycles came from my dad and Peter, her coaching drills were very similar to Peter’s. We’d polished the skills we’d already been working on, only this time in the dark, and we continued to gel as a team, learning how far each of us could push before burning out. Jake blew us all away with the progress he’d made, and I didn’t have any significant dragon bone issues after going back to the schedule Uncle Tí had made for me. We were ready to race.
Or so I thought. I began to have second thoughts once we arrived at the starting line.
Our opponents were animals. I’d never felt intimidated when racing before, even when I’d trained with members of my uncle’s cyclocross team. However, these guys were different, like my mom said they would be. They were all intensely focused, and many were jacked up to the size of NFL running backs. Their bodies had been forged for power and speed as opposed to endurance like most riders.
Hú Dié walked around with a big, goofy grin on her face, batting her eyes at just about every guy who passed. Jake and Phoenix, however, looked as worried as I was.
Worst of all, it was raining. Leave it to my luck for sunny California to be hit with showers the night of the big race. Hok had told me it rained in San Francisco more than southern California, but I hadn’t paid it any mind.
I thought about her and frowned. She’d called earlier to tell us that she wouldn’t be attending the race. She said that she would only be a distraction for us, especially since DuSow was bound to be here. She didn’t want to risk a confrontat
ion.
The race was going to be broadcast live over an Internet feed, and Hok said that she was going to watch us that way. She was also going to record it so that, according to her, we could relive our victory again and again. Looking around me, I was pretty certain I’d never want to see that recording. We were going to get creamed.
My mom walked over to me. “How are you doing?”
“Nervous,” I said. “These guys are going to ride all over us.”
“You’ll be fine.”
“I don’t think so. A lot of these guys are bigger than me.”
“That’s good. They can block the wind and rain for you, on the sides as well as in front.”
“I’d rather not think about the rain.”
“Why? Because of what happened to Peter?”
I nodded.
“I told you, forget about him until after the race.”
Phoenix, Hú Dié, and Jake pushed their bikes over to us.
“This is intense,” Phoenix said.
“No doubt,” Jake said. “We’re going to get slaughtered.”
“Speak for yourself,” Hú Dié said. “I am having a great time. I am not afraid.”
“You’re a girl,” Jake said. “In fact, you’re the only girl. They’re going to take it easy on you.”
“Then it will be their downfall.”
My mom laughed. “Hú Dié is right. Her being the only girl may be to your advantage. They might underestimate all of you because you’re all dressed alike and hanging out together. You’re clearly teammates.”
“I think they’re already underestimating us,” Phoenix said. “I kind of thought we’d be mini celebrities, but these guys aren’t even looking at us.”
“So much the better,” my mom said. “It’s the sponsors you want the attention from, anyway, not the other riders.”
“Sponsors?” Jake said. “Where?”
“Everywhere,” my mom replied. “I saw their names when I signed you in. A few of them even approached me.”
“Really?” I said.
“Really,” my mom said, “but that’s all I’m going to say until after the race. I wasn’t going to mention it at all, but it sounds like you could use a little boost. Don’t worry about the other riders. Just stick together and work as a team. You’ll do well. I promise.”
“Hello, Mystery Teen Team!”
I turned to see DuSow heading toward us with his riders in tow: Philippe, Lucas, and, unbelievably, SaYui. He’d somehow survived being shot by Bo. DuSow wore a bright orange rain suit, while Philippe, Lucas, and SaYui were decked out in riding gear and pushing their bikes. None of the riders had any visible injuries. Even Lucas’s arm had healed. Apparently, the synthetic dragon bone worked.
DuSow must have seen me looking for signs of their previous wounds. “Everyone is one hundred percent,” he said, “except Lin Tan, who is perhaps seventy-five percent healed. However, he isn’t scheduled to race. He prefers to lie low, you know.”
“I know,” I said, glancing around. “Where’s Peter?”
“Ah, yes. Your coach. He’s a little … tied up at the moment. He won’t be joining us.”
I scowled. “You’re going to make us wait until after the race to see him?”
DuSow laughed. “You’re going to be waiting longer than that.” He lowered his voice. “Your friend from Texas having killed my doctor set my program behind. I’ve yet to find a suitable replacement. I’ve spent too much time keeping the police away and making up stories for all the gunshots people heard the other night. Peter will be staying with us awhile longer.”
“But that wasn’t the deal!” I growled.
“Listen to you roar, little lion. You are more than welcome to find me after the race.” He wiggled the fingers of his right hand at me.
I ground my teeth.
“Ladies and gentlemen!” someone announced with a bullhorn. “It’s time to get this party started!”
DuSow winked at me and left.
My mother shook her head. “I take it that was Mr. Poison Hand.”
“Yeah,” I said.
“I don’t believe that idiot!” Jake said. “What are we going to do?”
“Nothing for at least an hour,” my mother said. “Forget about what he said for now. We’ll get Peter back. Just focus on the race. If your attention wavers for an instant, you’re going to be in big trouble.”
I shook my head. “I can’t forget.”
“You have to,” she said. “Now, I need to go over to the spectator area. I’ll meet you at the finish line when you’re through.” She wished Phoenix, Hú Dié, and Jake good luck and then, to my horror, she leaned over and kissed my cheek before leaving the starting area.
I felt my face begin to burn with anger as well as embarrassment. At least the cool rain kept me from blushing. We lined up, and I wiped rainwater from my eyes. It felt a lot like tears. However, crying was the last thing on my mind. Revenge for Peter was all I could think about. My dan tien began to quiver, as though encouraging me to get off of my bike, find DuSow, and strangle him.
I took a deep breath and flipped on the handlebar-mounted light that Hú Dié had installed on each of our bikes. Phoenix said something, and so did Jake, but I didn’t hear a word either one had said. In fact, I hardly even heard the starter pistol when it fired.
CRACK!
The starter pistol sounded a lot like Bo’s rifle, which snapped me out of my daze. Riders began to hammer, and I hadn’t even clipped my feet into my pedals yet.
“Ryan!” Jake shouted. “Get with the program, bro!”
I clipped in and blasted forward, my anger releasing itself through my legs. I nearly ran over the two guys directly in front of me. One of them said, “Geez, you sure can pound, kid!”
That should have given me hope about our chances to do well in the race, but I found that I no longer cared about it. All I cared about was Peter.
I’d gotten separated from Phoenix, Jake, and Hú Dié, and it took me half a lap of the hilly one-mile loop to work my way up to them. There were about fifty racers in all, and they were all excellent riders. We rode closer to one another than I thought possible. Whenever the guys around me would shake rain from their faces, it would hit me.
By the time I’d connected with the others, two different packs of four guys had broken away from the peloton.
“Want to make it three breakaways?” Hú Dié asked.
“Yeah!” Jake said.
“I’m game,” Phoenix said. “Lead the way, Ryan.”
My heart wasn’t really into it, but I pushed forward anyway, signaling for the others to fall in behind me. I was already riding pretty hard, and I had to push myself almost to the breaking point to pull us a noticeable distance ahead of the main peloton.
I put us fifty yards out, and I glanced down at my electronic display. It showed thirty-eight miles per hour.
And we were on a straightaway.
We reached a downhill run, and I saw the two breakaway groups riding neck and neck about seventy yards ahead.
What the heck? I thought, and I began to hammer down the dark, wet hill.
“Ryan!” Phoenix shouted. “Slow down!”
I ignored him and glanced beyond the breakaway riders. I saw San Francisco Bay, and I was able to single out DuSow’s docks. My heart nearly stopped. Tied up to one of the docks was a boat.
Peter, I thought. How can I continue to ride when he is so close by?
“Ryan!” Phoenix shouted again. “Slow down!”
I turned my gaze back to the breakaway groups and saw that I was nearly upon them. I glanced down at my electronic display.
Sixty-one miles per hour.
Wet brakes squealed ahead of me, and I tickled my brake levers. It had little effect.
I did it again, and again, and again, drying them off. Finally, I began to slow. The breakaway riders made the next turn, and I cut my wheel to follow. I’d forgotten about how the wet pavement might affect my bike’s shortened whee
lbase and nearly cut the wheel too far. I straightened it out a bit and swerved onto the next street.
“Easy,” Hú Dié huffed as she locked onto my rear wheel.
“Sorry,” I said. “I wasn’t paying attention.”
“You’d better start!” Phoenix barked. “Don’t take another hill at that speed again, or you’ll be riding without us.”
“Got it,” I said.
The two breakaway packs had merged into one, and we caught up with them as we reached the start/finish line, marking the end of our first lap. We blasted past the crowd huddled in the rainy darkness, and they cheered. A few even rang cowbells. I saw my mom jumping up and down excitedly, and of course, DuSow’s orange rain suit stood out like a sore thumb.
Once we were clear of the crowd, a rider cut out from the center of our twelve-man breakaway peloton and veered toward me. It was Lucas, and he was smiling like he had a secret. Before I could react, he lifted his leg exactly like Hú Dié had taught me for a side kick, and let fly. The perfect kick struck me in the hip, causing me to weave uncontrollably.
I began to lose traction and speed, and the next thing I knew, Hú Dié was beside me. She grabbed my handlebars, straightening me out and holding me steady as if I were a five-year-old riding without training wheels.
“Are you good?” she shouted.
“Yeah!” I shouted back.
She let go of my handlebars, and Phoenix and Jake pulled around me, forming a wall to protect me from further attack.
“That was Savat!” Hú Dié shouted. “A French martial art! Lots of kicks! Be careful around that guy!”
I nodded again.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“Sure,” I said.
But I could tell that Hú Dié knew as well as I did that I was anything but okay. My head just wasn’t in the race. I needed to pull out before I hurt myself or, even worse, someone else.
I looked ahead and caught a glimpse of DuSow’s warehouse again, and I couldn’t take it anymore.