Through the Storm(57)

Madison led the way with her long, brunette hair flowing in the breeze. Riding the trailer bike, Conner pushed to keep within shouting distance.

Near noon, Madison rolled down a small hill and stopped.

Conner wiped perspiration from his forehead as he stopped alongside her. “Are you tired?”

“No. Do you want me to ride the trailer bike for a while?”

“I’m fine.” He struggled to breathe, slow and even.

“When do you think we’ll reach Riverbank?”

“We’re making good time.” Conner shrugged. “Maybe two more hours.”

They continued over the next hill and down a flat area of fields and farms. Conner paused by a stream and splashed water on his face.

Madison continued up the forested slope. Near the top, she stopped and dismounted her bike.

Did she have a flat or did the bike break down?

She stood beside the bike and stared at the gravel edge of the road.

Pedaling hard, Conner neared her in seconds. “Is something wrong?”

Madison pointed to a man sprawled facedown beside the road.

The sound of distant voices carried on the wind.

Conner dismounted, ran over, and gently shook the man’s arm. “Are you okay?”

“Is he dead?” Madison whispered.

“I don’t know yet.” Conner pulled back the collar and pressed two fingers against his neck. The skin felt warm, but he found no pulse. He rolled the body over. Red blood stained the front of the shirt around a single bullet wound. “Yeah, I think he’s dead.”

Madison walked a few yards toward the top of the hill. She stopped near the crest, bent low, and peered over.

“What are you doing?” Conner asked.

She scurried back to him and in a voice laced with fear whispered, “Guys with guns are coming.”

Conner heard men talking. He grabbed his bike and motioned for Madison to follow him into the forest.

Conner found a gully where a creek flowed and motioned for Madison to stay there with the bikes. Then he moved to the side and found a spot where he could watch the road.

“There’s the guy I shot.” A tall man with shaggy brown hair strode along the freeway. “See, I told you he wouldn’t get far.”

Behind shrubs and trees, Conner held his breath.

A second man with short black hair and a goatee stepped close to the corpse. “Shoot better next time.” He looked around. “I thought I heard someone talking.”

“Probably just him dying,” Shaggy said.

“Maybe.” Goatee continued to look around. “Hide the body in the forest so it doesn’t warn the next traveler, and then hightail it back to camp.” He turned and strode away.

“How come I always get this kind of job?” Shaggy stared down for a moment then grabbed each arm of the body and pulled it off the road, across the drainage ditch, and into the woods nearby.

Conner barely breathed as he inched around a large evergreen tree to conceal himself.

Shaggy dragged the body inches from the tree.

When he had passed, Conner crept back to the creek where Madison hid with the bikes. He kept low and pointed his rifle in the direction of Shaggy’s noisy trek. Conner caught glimpses as the man left the body and strolled from the forest to the asphalt highway and disappeared.

“I think we’re okay now.” Conner took a deep breath. “I’m glad you spotted those guys.”

“What do we do now?”

“I’m sure we can get around them, but before we go anywhere, I want to know exactly where they are.”

“No, let’s just go back to Olympia.”

The words hit Conner like a slap in the face. He didn’t want to lose her. “If you want to, you can but … I’ve got to find out if my brother and father are okay.”

Madison stared at the ground for several moments. “I understand. I’ll stay with you, but I don’t want … I couldn’t take it if you died or were killed like that poor man beside the road.”

Conner hugged her. “I’ll be careful.”

She wrapped her arms around his shoulder and neck. “You better.” She kissed him.

He squeezed her tighter and for a moment the horrid events of the last few days faded. He kissed her back.

*

From his vantage point atop a nearby hill, Conner watched as bikers on two black motorcycles led three 1950s-era pickups up to a home near the freeway ramp. Conner didn’t know much about motorcycles, but the style of these two looked as old as the trucks.

The newer, two-story white house appeared to serve as the gang’s headquarters. Earlier he had spotted both Goatee and Shaggy, along with about ten other men and three women. More were probably inside. In the quiet that had become normal, he had heard some of their words but learned nothing useful.

As men unloaded boxes from the back of the trucks, a third biker in dark leather roared up to the house on a red motorcycle. Over his shoulder, he wore a satchel, like a messenger. When he dismounted, he pulled goggles up from his eyes.

Conner glanced north, toward where he had left Madison. He wanted to return to her, but they would need a plan to circumvent these thugs. He pulled the map from his pack and searched for the best route.

Nearby, male voices spoke in whispers.

Twigs snapped.