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His voice. Yetmyhands released the pressure to lower the lift. Iunstrapped the bike and held it for a moment to admire.
It was a damned fine-looking machine. Without paint, the metal should have been matte and dull, yet it shone. Sleek to the touch. The wolf face was finely wrought. The bulbs for its eyes had been replaced. Given I didn’t want to get ticketed, I’d had to stick with regular white and not the red that would have been cooler. Although, the turn signal that flashed crimson from inside its eye socket did somewhat make up for it.
Both the front and rear fenders swooped and ended in three sharp tines. Coincidence or a remnant of Mahoney’s Trikillz days?
The handlebars fit into my grip as if sized for me, which made no sense given that Mahoney had me by several inches.
Straddling the seat, I sighed in comfort at the padding I’d chosen for the black leather stitched cushion. My period had slowed down enough that a pad contained it, so hopefully I wouldn’t ruin the expensive splurge on my first ride.
Despite the fact that I lacked a helmet, I rolled the bike out of the garage, snaring a pair of safety goggles as I passed. I wouldn’t go far, only a little ride to see how it ran. Not the two-lane highway in front of my place, but the side road on the east side. With it being after dark, not many would see me. I’d draw my hood down over my brow to hide my features. A lack of a license plate meant cops couldn’t run them to grab a name. I’d be anonymous.
How daring. The thick bike between my legs felt good.
For a second, I could have sworn I heard Mahoney whisper, “I’d feel better.”
“I prefer my lovers to have an actual body,” I muttered as I squeezed the gas and booted the kickstart to get the motorcycle going.
At first, nothing happened. Not even a choke. Then, on the next try, a small rumble. The third kick was the charm. It uttered a vibrating growl. I quickly fed it gas, and the beast roared to life.
Glory, praise be.
Shall we go for a ride?
This time, I swore the voice came from the bike. I didn’t care. “Hell, yeah.”
The motorcycle leaped forward as if possessed by a wild mind of its own. I clung tightly in surprise, my hands wrapped around the handle grips, my thighs squeezing the seat and frame. The rumble didn’t disappoint.
Even at low speed, it didn’t take long to reach the front gate where Mahoney stood, the lock in his hand.
“Don’t go far,” he admonished as he pushed open the barrier.
I blinked at the apparition, and really hoped I wasn’t dreaming of this ride, or about to crash into a closed gate.
Taking in a breath, I leaned down, gunned the bike, and off we flew.
CHAPTER18
The bike handled betterthan I could have hoped for. Smooth to shift, easy to ride. Everything about it was perfect. There was only one thing I’d need to fix before my next outing.
My clothes.
My red hoodie couldn’t completely cut out the wind and chill. It ripped through the fabric and stiffened my limbs. An easy enough thing to rectify. I’d invest in a proper jacket, maybe even some dedicated boots and chaps if I planned to ride regularly.
Wait, was I keeping the bike?
Why not? It hadn’t cost me much in parts and only a bit of my time, plus I really liked it. Although, next time, along with goggles, I should tie back my hair. I tucked it into my hood and then put the goggle strap over it to hold it in place. I really needed better equipment because this was hardly my most attractive look.
As I wheeled around, heading back for the junkyard, the bike chose to misbehave. It didn’t spin or stall out. Nope. It decided it wanted to shoot across the road, zip through a shallow ditch, and then fire off towards the woods. We emerged by some train tracks. The bumpy gravel had my teeth chattering as I cursed.
“What the fuck? Why won’t you turn?” I couldn’t get the bike to obey me at all. Letting go of the gas accomplished nothing. It was as if it drove itself.
Currently, it aimed for a bridge, the overpass allowing the train to flow under while the road for cars and other vehicles crossed above. Against the curved wall of the tunnel a barrel spewed flame.
The bike slowed that I might see a group of people standing over the barrel. They had a similar zombie-like sway to their bodies as they stared as if hypnotized by the flames. Their gaunt faces looked demonic in the dancing flamelight. Hair mostly greasy, unbrushed, except for the one who’d shaved it to the scalp. Their eyes lacked focus. One still had a rubber band hose wrapped around his biceps, loose but ready to tighten for the needle.
Tweakers. A bunch of them and not something I wanted to deal with. I had no plans to stop until I saw one of my attackers.
Skinny, the one who’d held me down as his friend tried to rape me. The rage hit me suddenly, and I bent low over the bike as I aimed for him. It took all those around the barrel a moment to notice me, their blasting metal tunes drowning out the sound of the engine.
