by M. R. Holman
leather seat, returned her left hand to the handlebars, and twisted the throttle back as far as it would go.
"Was that a gun?" one of the Masters of Ceremonies said in a panic. The group below them seemed to have noticed it as well.
"Where the hell did she get a gun?"
The bike was surprisingly fast, but it was still not catching up to the group of motorcycles that were leading the race and the drones that followed them. Luckily, she had secretly prepared a few modifications to the bike in the weeks before. She kicked the muffler attached to the end of her exhaust pipe and it fell off, tumbling through the sand. She did the same to the air filter. The motorcycle now screamed like a banshee as it lurched forward at astonishing speed.
"What the fuck is happening?"
"No. I don't like this at all. Shut 'em down. Shut the bikes down!"
"Put the drone trailing her on autopilot and get the enforcer drone onto her."
One of the Masters of Ceremonies extracted a remote control from his pocket and jabbed the lone button on it. Every single one of the motorcycles' engines stopped immediately… except for Kendra's. She had the only bike without a single computerized component on it. There was no controlling her anymore.
"Son of a bitch..."
"I've got twenty on her escaping."
"You fool! If you're betting for her you have to let me shoot at her with the drone. Give me that damn controller!"
As the Masters of Ceremonies fought over the controller that powered the enforcer drone, it continued to speed directly at Kendra. She could see it coming at her. It grew steadily in size as she sped toward it and it sped toward her. She picked up the pistol from between her legs with her left hand and tried to steady the sights on the ever-growing drone as she struggled to keep the speeding bike on course as well.
Kendra fired. The sound of the gun hardly even registered over the roaring motorcycle. She missed. It was only the second time she had ever shot a gun, and it was incredibly difficult under the circumstances because she was right handed and riding well over one hundred... She did not know what she was doing over a hundred units of, but the little hand on the dial was pointing to one hundred and five.
She fired over and over, hoping that she did not hit any of the slaves who were now stuck on the racetrack by their disabled motorcycles. The recoil of the pistol made her wrist ache, but she fired repeatedly at the speeding aerial machine. Soon, the trigger clicked but there were no more bullets left. She tossed the gun to the ground and prepared to collide with the enforcer drone. Why was it still not shooting at her? Little did she know that it was set on auto-pilot and that two ridiculous men were still fighting over its controller one hundred miles away.
Kendra threw her weight to one side of the bike, trying to dodge the drone. She did, for the most part. One of its sixteen propellers made contact with her thick leather racing jacket just above her elbow. The millisecond of contact was enough to knock the drone to the ground, utterly destroying its flight mechanisms. The drone had still done some damage to Kendra, however. The brief contact with the razor sharp propeller had cut right through the leather jacket and gashed her arm deeply. She was unaware of this, only having felt pressure of a graze against the machine as it passed her. Kendra was too focused on keeping the bike vertical to notice the blood rushing down the arm of her jacket.
The motorcycle wobbled from side to side as she attempted to correct its course after her evasive maneuver from the drone. She felt only spare moments of control as the rear tire drifted in and out of the line of motion, threatening to deposit her forcefully into the sand if she should err in the slightest direction.
The two foolish men panted in the betting room, one holding the enforcer drone's controller victoriously. He switched the giant screen to the feed that the enforcer drone had been broadcasting. The camera was still broadcasting from the now stationary drone. It was pointed directly at Echo's sun above them. The crowd of men and women who had been spectating the race below the two men started booing and shouting as the ultra-bright light of their sun shone through on the screen, overly illuminating the room that had been pleasantly dim only moments before. Threats and thrown drinks cascaded over the balcony, pelting the two Masters of Ceremonies in the betting room.
"Switch it back before they riot!"
"No! We've got to shoot that bitch. We'll never hear the end of it from Percy if his favorite slave escapes!"
"The enforcer is gone, you lackwit! Change it!" one of the Masters screamed, punching the other in the face. He dropped the controller, and the screen began to follow Kendra once more.
The spectator drones had caught up with Kendra and were surrounding her. Every direction she looked, there was a camera hovering and pointing directly into her face. She lowered her chest down to the tank of the motorcycle once more, trying to make herself as flat as possible. She felt her speed gain as she did this.
A red gleam caught her attention out of the corner of her eye. Flecks of blood flew from the sleeve of her gashed arm and splattered across her goggles. She wiped the blood away quickly, willing herself not to hyperventilate. Just the sight of her blood made her dizzy.
The ground leveled and Kendra had an idea. She took both hands off of the handlebars and unzipped her jacket. In one fluid motion it was off. She grasped it with both hands and threw it over her head, catching three of the drones that were behind her. As she grasped the handlebars she glanced over her shoulder and watched the machines tumble to the ground, trapped in her jacket. There were only two left.
"This is a disgrace to the sport of slave-racing," one of the Masters said as the giant screen went blank until they switched to another feed. The Masters of Ceremonies were standing side by side once more, their disagreement apparently forgotten. The crowd of gamblers below them were losing their few remaining semblances of civility. In fact, their silhouettes were rustling and bobbing in the darkness like a vat of boiling tar while their screams and yells combined into a malevolent harmony.
Kendra glanced at Percy's wristwatch. She had a little over three minutes remaining. She was nearing the thin forest that formed the border between the beach and the desert along the coasts of Echo. The forest was only a few hundred yards wide, but it would be difficult to navigate through it quickly on this motorcycle. She had never ridden on anything other than sand, but now it was time to change that. Kendra leaned to her left, approaching the forest at a forty-five degree angle. She slowed as she neared it, shifting down through the gears and causing the engine to howl as she looked for the perfect spot for entry.
"Where the hell is she going?"
"It looks like she's going into the... Damnit!"
The drone they were watching her through smacked into the side of a small tree and fell to the ground, its propellers digging into the marshy earth. There was only one drone remaining.
Navigating through the dense trees and slick undergrowth of the forest came naturally to Kendra. Her main worry was slowing down too fast and being chopped to bits by the drone. She was determinedly not looking at her left arm, afraid of what she might see. The air was cool against her arm and she realized it must still be bleeding profusely.
"Let me fly it!"
"No fuckin' way! You've been drinkin' since you rolled out of bed. Leave it on autopilot!"
"Autopilot isn't fast enough, it's going to lose her! Are you gonna be the one to tell Percy that his best racer and his prettiest slave fucking escaped? Because if so, by all means, leave it on the damn autopilot."
"I'm gettin' sick of your domineering bullshit!" he said as he handed over the controller. The smooth flight path wobbled violently but it got closer to Kendra. The audience of gamblers below quieted down a bit. They were holding their heads and looking away from the screen. Others were on the verge of getting sick due to the turbulent nature of the flight that was being broadcast.
Kendra glanced over her shoulder at the drone. Why was it flying so strangely? And why was it so c
lose? She had to lie flat against the bike as it flew right past her. A hundred miles away, the Master of Ceremonies that was flying the drone vomited over the balcony into the crowd below. A full on riot ensued in the gambling parlor.
The final drone crashed into the mossy ground and Kendra swerved around it. She could smell the beach. She had one minute remaining.
The trees thinned and Kendra took a right onto the sandy beach. It was different than the desert sand, but still more familiar than the forest. She turned the throttle as far back as it would go and held on tight.
She could see the jump-ship in the distance. It was far away, but she thought she could make it. Her eyes began to droop as she moved ever faster across the flat beach. Lazily, she looked over at her left arm. From her fingertips to her elbow, her arm looked like a bloody steak that had been left in the sun all day. Fresh droplets of blood continued to pass across the crease of her elbow to its point and disappear into the wind behind her.
"NO!" Kendra grunted to herself, bringing her mind back her senses. Her eyes were wide again and her mind was focused. The ship was getting closer. Could they see her? Would they wait? She had instructed them not to...
The motorcycle's engine began to falter. At first it sounded like a hiccup every now and then. Soon, the hiccup became a cough. The motorcycle