There was the squealing of tires that Ray though must sound much the way apig might squeal at the moment of slaughter. The white car veered out ofcontrol, slicing across the next vacant lane and directly into the path ofa road hazard sign. The Nova lived up to its namesake becoming a fireballof twisting metal. A glance backward confirmed that the smug teenager wasindeed in the process of becoming roasted lamb. Razor blinked severaltimes, trying to clear his head. What had just happened? He was dullyaware that he had just taken part in a rather serious crime. “But I didn’tdo it….” His thoughts raced. “It was the bike. It was this fuckin’weird…. amazing….glorious bike!” Madness returned to Razor’s eyes andhe howled in the night as the possessed Panhead closed it’s dark cloakaround him. At once he knew why he had been saved all his life, and whathe had been saved for. He felt the bike’s power filling him and smiled,knowing that his true purpose was dark indeed.
Vicky awoke to the feel of rough hands on her and the smell of stalewhisky and beer. As she struggled to the surface of the twisted dreamknown as reality, she was shockingly aware that crude fingers wereinvading her most sensitive and private of areas. A voice spoke justinches from her ear. It was a voice she knew well, but it sounded strange,as if a demon were using it. “Little pig, little pig,” it said. “Let meIN!” Vickie screamed the first in an endless strand of screams that wouldfall through the night like pearls into the abyss of hell.
The sun rose with fiery splendor…cleansing, purifying, lighting theworld and vanquishing the darkness. Razor was already blasting down thetarmac, heading out on the 5 Freeway to hit Highway 15 into the desert.His leathers were warming to the sun and Ray found himself singing a BobSeger tune, “Headed out to my big two-wheeler, I was tired of my ownvoice.” He hummed for a few seconds, having forgotten some of the wordsbefore shouting, “and I rolled that power ON!” At the same time he gavethe grip a twist and the bike leaped forward like a spring-loaded panther.
Ray laughed out loud, giddy and completely insane. He knew that the bikehad somehow taken over his mind but he really didn’t care.
He and the Panhead were one, “as it should be”, he thought. Together theywere more than they could ever dream possible. They were unstoppable andthey were on a mission. It didn’t even bother Razor that he didn’t knowwhat the mission was yet. He just giggled like a helpless child in itsmother’s arms and let the bike roll him away into the desert.
Judith Craymore adjusted her pert polyester collar as she walked stifflyup the steps to Vickie’s house. She pulled one of the Scripture tractsfrom her bulging purse and tapped firmly on the screen door. A Gospel tunefilled her mind with the Lord’s delicious warmth. It was as if choirs ofangels were singing in perfect harmony in her aging mind belting out,”Shall we gather by the ri-ver!” There was no movement in the little houseand she glanced at her watch; 11:11am. The bible-thumper had beendelivering God’s holy word since nine that morning and felt the need for aglass of cool water. Perhaps she could ask the resident within to….
The blood red “X” on the screen door stood out boldly against theweathered green paint. Lost in the sick color, several flys buzzed,lighting on the sticky stuff. Judith immediately looked at her whitegloves and saw that she had rap, rap, rapped right on the bloody “X”. Hermouth worked soundlessly for a full three seconds before she let out awithered gasp. Adrenaline pumped through her 68-year-old body making hershake uncontrollably. Somehow she managed to force her will on her handand she watched as it slowly opened the creaking door. Judith was dimlyaware that watching her bloodied glove open the door was much likewatching a movie. Then the smell hit her. Someone has been sick, shethought. Without realizing what she was doing, Judith squared herself andraised the bible she always carried before her like a shield. She steppedinside managing a meager, “Hello?”
Something wet was on the wood floor, “footprints”, the pink-suited womanrealized. She moved forward, watching her inner movie of someone glidinginto the dim-lit house, through the living room, toward what had to be abedroom. A sound began to swell in Judith’s already loaded senses. Whatwas it…so familiar, like electric current. Suddenly, the sound became awall of mindless buzzing. Judith turned towards the sound and saw moreblood on the bedroom wall. The blood formed words and even in this oddfilm she was watching, she knew the words before even reading them. Theywere part of Revelations and spoke of the coming of a pale horseman; asymbol of the apocalypse. Something moved on the bed and groaned weakly. Ayoung woman was strapped belly down on the bed. Blood smeared everywhere.Before Judith could register more than that, the source of the buzzingbecame clear. The words on the wall were undulating… and moving. The oldwoman opened her mouth to scream but the flies were too fast, clogging hermouth and eyes by the thousands.
By early afternoon Ray was exactly where we wanted to be, so far out inthe desert that he could be truly alone with his machine. After hours inthe saddle his butt was burning and he pulled off the two-lane black toponto a dirt road. The road ended in a makeshift rifle range and Razorreached down to pick up a flat rock to place under the bike’s jiffy stand.He shut the Panhead down and listened to the glorious sound of the bike’sengine ticking and the desert wind whistling through the sage brush andJoshua trees.
Razor felt like a rattlesnake; lean, mean, and serene. He crawled up tothe top of a rock formation and looked out at the endless expanse ofdesert.
He felt like a god and laughed as he took a piss off the top of the rock.His eyes narrowed at something glinting far in the distance along theribbon of blacktop. A small building that he recognized from a party withhis bro’s long ago. It was a skanky hole-in-the-wall called The Place.”What the hell,” he thought. “I could use a beer and a burger.” Ray lookeddown on his glorious ruby red Panhead and felt something beyond pride. Heknew that he finally belonged to something that he really cared about andcalled down to the bike, “The world is ours!”
Three fourth grade boys on their way home from school sat on theirbicycles in front of Vickie’s house watching the police put up that weirdyellow plastic tape all across the front of the property. A somber dude ina suit that was too small for him was talking to an old woman that wasslumped in the back of an un-marked cop car. The plumpest of the threeboys spat, “That’s where that biker guy wouldn’t give us any candy onHalloween, remember?” The other boys nodded, recalling that Ray hadoffered them a bong hit and then chased them off the porch when theyrefused. A cop told the kids to move on but not before they saw the lookon Vickie’s face as she was loaded into an ambulance by paramedics.”Whoa!” the plump kid hollered, “What happened to her?”
The young woman was as white as the sheet that was pulled up to her chinand she looked to the boys like the victim of a vampire or one of thoseun-dead zombies like in Night of the Living Dead. The boys looked at eachother and in a chorus said, “Cool!”
