Debauchery Falls Ch. 07

Andrea risked a glance again, and saw the trucks chasing them down the path. The trail made it much easier for them to follow.

More gunfire.

Little geysers of rock and soil sprouted in the loose dirt in front of them.

As though they had coordinated this sort of move thousands of times, Galloway and Quinn began to weave their bikes back and forth-- a dance meant to confuse the men behind them. The bikes made double-helix criss-crossing patterns.

Quinn's shotgun was slung across his back out of reach, but he drew his pistol, firing it over his shoulder several times blindly, hoping to stall their pursuers.

The pistol had no effect. The trucks kept coming.

Quinn's bike wobbled unsteadily. He quickly corrected and put his pistol away, deciding to just focus on the pulse pounding drive.

The path was winding its way through the forest. Dark woods on both sides formed a tunnel of fast moving trees overhead. The trunks and branches flew by in a crazy blur.

The terrain was uneven. One second they were coasting downhill, the next they were climbing further up the mountain.

Andrea was trying to be hopeful that the spry little motorcycles were gaining ground on the big clumsy trucks. But when she risked a peek, she was alarmed to see that they were even closer, closing the distance.

"No," she exhaled in a little discouraged whimper.

Galloway was still gripping the throttle, but she seemed to be letting off a bit.

"They're catching up. Faster!" Andrea called into her ear.

She seemed to ignore Andrea's concerns and made a hand gesture to Quinn. Quinn nodded his understanding.

The trucks closed in even more. Galloway still sent the bike weaving back and forth in a zig zag across the trail.

"Tell me when they're really close," Galloway shouted to Andrea. "And if you can, wrap that rifle sling as tight as possible around your hand."

Andrea blinked the wind out of her eyes, not sure what either of those instructions meant. But she complied, looping the rifle sling around her hand and wrist.

"How far away are they?"

Andrea glanced. "Umm... twenty feet." It was hard to tell for sure with her own raven hair whipping into her eyes. Not to mention Galloway's pony tail slapping the air like a flag trailing behind her head.

Andrea felt a change in pitch to the motorcycle. Galloway was deliberately slowing down.

It dawned on her in one moment of horror. So was Quinn.

The trucks gained ground, speeding up.

"Tell me when you can see their faces!" Galloway shouted over the roar of the wind and engines.

Andrea looked again. The trucks looked close. Dangerously close. They seemed immense compared to the little bikes. Like semi-trucks barreling down on a tricycle. The headlights were blinding.

Andrea continued to watch. The trucks inching closer and closer. She knew the men inside were intending to ram them. To knock them over and crush them between tires and stones. It would be an awful end.

"Now?" Galloway shouted.

"Not yet."

"Hang the fuck onto me, no matter what!"

Andrea's heart was racing. What the hell was she doing?

The bikes came around a turn, skidding in the loose stones, and the trucks gained inches.

In the darkness behind the windshield, Andrea could see the maniac at the wheel. One of the deputies. He was beastly like most of them, with a bullet shaped head, shaved hair, and a grin spread from ear to ear beneath his beard stubble. The grin of a sadist.

"Now!" Andrea shouted, tightening her arms around Galloway, hugging her in a death grip.

The bike lurched, then leaned dangerously to the left. Galloway was turning them hard. Looking past her shoulder, Andrea saw that Galloway wasn't keeping to the path. She was veering them off and into the nearest cluster of trees.

The bike bounced between two thick trunks that could hardly be wider than five feet apart. They passed so close that the mirror snapped off.

The bike continued off road. Their chase now a crazy ride of bumps and jostles. Then the grade dropped beneath them, the nose of the bike heading straight down a steep decline.

Trees were rushing at them, careening so fast that they were beyond the ability to stop.

Galloway dodged between trunks, narrowly missing them.

Somewhere off to the right, Quinn was doing the same. Andrea could hear her father screaming-- high and terrified. A crazy plunge blindly through the woods on bikes that were going way too fast.

We're going to die, she realized.

Behind them, Andrea heard the first of the impacts. The truck that hadn't been paying attention to anything but trying to ram their bikes. It crashed head-first into the trees, stopping instantly. The men in the bed were launched into the woods like missiles. One struck a thick branch and died on impact. Another rolled downhill, his body tumbling after the bikes. His arms and limbs twisting.

Then Andrea was looking away. Behind her she could hear another crash, then another.

Still Galloway raced on. Just a never-ending jumble of trees coming straight at them, missing them by inches. Galloway weaved and leaned her bike.

Andrea was only dimly aware that she was screaming. One long continuous shout that may have sounded like she was hooting because she was enjoying the ride. She wasn't. She was never more certain that she was going to die.

The bumping only grew worse. The ground became steeper.

The trees parted for a second, then Andrea felt the chilly splash of water on her legs. Then they were over the stream and racing up the next bank.

They drove through a grove of evergreens. Branches slashed at their faces. They bounced over a fallen tree limb, then Andrea felt the bike take a hard jolt. The headlamp exploded as a branch struck it, snapping off from the impact.

Andrea's own body was slipping off the bike. She clutched at Galloway but it was no good, she was toppling. Just as the ground began to level out, Andrea felt one last hard impact to the dirt bike. Then she was knocked free and found herself falling into blackness.

*** TO BE CONTINUED ***