Ray pulled up to The Place and looked up at its weathered sign. Severalpick-up trucks and a rusted El Camino sat along side the little bar. Hestood up tall and proud from the scoot and sauntered into the bar like agunfighter looking for trouble.
Vintage Conway Twitty assaulted Ray’s ears as his eyes adjusted to thedarkness. The smell of stale beer and disinfectant hit him like gale forcewinds. The red neon of a ‘Drink Bud’ sign threw highlights on anamber-haired cowgirl leaning against the bar. The fireplug of a bartenderlaughed out loud at a raunchy joke from the woman. Razor was aware thatevery eye in the place was on him and he took a deep, measured breath ashe strolled to the bar. “Bud and a burger,” he drawled.
The fireplug smirked and wiped his hands on a bar towel. “How you wantyour burger?”
Ray looked into the bleary green eyes of the redhead and answered,”Bloody.” The woman’s full lips turned up in greeting and Ray stepped inclose to her. “This seat taken?” She shook her amber locks ‘no’ and thebiker sat down on the stool.
The redhead named Doris had seen better days. Honky Tonk nights filledwith drugs, booze, and cheap sex had written an all-too familiar road mapon what was once the face of a homecoming queen. That was eighteen yearsand a million beers ago. “Heard your bike when you pulled up,” she winkedat Razor. “I’d sure love a ride.”
Ray took a pull from his long neck, letting his eyes caress every inch ofthe woman’s full breasts stretched tight under a turquoise T-shirt bearingthe words, ‘Ride ’em Cowboy!”.
The dark-haired biker looked up into the woman’s green eyes and whispered, “I’ll give you a ride you won’t soon forget.”
Doris wrapped her arm in Ray’s and called to the barkeep, “I’m ready foranother, Bobby.”
The crewcut wearing Bobby smirked and popped the top of another beer,”I’ll just bet you are, Doris. But is your new friend ready?” Doris andBobby shared an eruption of used laughter.
The Redhead turned to Ray and reached between his legs in front of Bobby,God, and the assembled rednecks and gave a gentle squeeze, “Oh, I thinkhe’s ready!” More slurred laughter skittered around the dim room. Razorreached down to remove the woman’s paw when a hand like a steel viseclamped on his shoulder and spun him around.
Suddenly Ray was facing a cowboy in his early thirties with a genuineGarth Brooks cowboy hat on and a face like a hedgehog. “That’s my gal,mister.”
Young Garth’s best Clint Eastwood gaze gave way to a look of pure dread asRazor’s eyes began to glow blood-red. “Then you’d best keep your gal’shands off of my meat.”
The cowboy took two steps back as if calling Ray out to an old-fashionedgun fight. Razor took a slow half glance over his shoulder to see Fireplugpulling a baseball bat from under the bar. Doris apparently had seen thisscene all too many times before and stood away from Ray to slur, “Quit it,Jimmy Joe. I ain’t your girl, and this fella just came in for a burger ferChristsakes.”
Jimmy Joe tried to give Ray his best ‘crazy-eyed’ look as he spat, “How’bout it biker boy, you wanna dance with me?”
Later, Doris would tell police that she couldn’t recall the horrific eventwhich took place in the next seven seconds, but she would tell the copssomething they would dismiss as crazy talk, “that biker’s eyes glowed likesome demon wolf from hell when he did what he did to Jimmy Joe… like ahound from hell!”
Razor stood up slowly from the barstool and held both hands out in frontof him, palms up. “No need to die today, boy.”
Jimmy Joe’s knees were going to water but he couldn’t back down in frontof his redneck pals. His right hand moved towards a sheathed buck knife onhis hip, “Huh! You one of them queer mother-fuckers that talk a man todeath, ain’t you?”
The tall biker took one step towards Jimmy Joe, his palms still upraised,apparently as a peace offering, “Let’s find out!” With lightning speedRazor’s hands shot out as if jacked by pistons. His rigid fingers enteredunder the cowboy’s ribcage and buried themselves nearly to the wrists.Jimmy Joe let out a gush of air in a startled gasp as Razor closed hishands on the man’s lower ribs from the inside, and pulled back with asharp ‘snap’!
Everyone in the bar heard the sick, wet crack of Jimmy Joe’s ribcage beingpulled apart like a chicken wishbone. Piss ran down the cowboy’s Wranglersas he slid to the floor like a gutted, broken doll. “Oops,” Razor hissed.”I forgot to make a wish.” In the same instant, the bartender pulled thebat up over his head and Razor spun on him.
The sound of two pearl-handled straight razors clicking open with a metallic ‘schwing!’ echoed in the close space.
Before ol’ Fireplug could move, the twin razor’s where criss-crossed athis throat. Razor’s glowing red eyes held the man in a terminal embrace.The barkeep felt painful pricks under each ear and knew the sharp razorswere ready to do the devil’s work on his neck. “You too, Bobby?” Razorhissed.
Later, Doris would swear with a boozy, weepy voice that the biker’s teethhad grown into chrome fangs when he said to Bobby, “See you in hell!” Thenin one expert motion, Razor pulled his arms away from each other and theshining razors spit blood across the room in both directions. A crimsongrin cackled and blubbered under Bobby’s chin and the big bar owner slidbehind the bar, disappearing like some hand puppet in a bad dream.
Razor wiped the bloody blades on Doris’ shirt and gave her a kiss full onthe lips, “thanks for a lovely time.” Then he turned to the startleddenizens of the bar and announced, “Anyone else?”
Back in the wind, Razor let out a howl above the Panhead’s throaty engine,and gunned the chopper through the shimmering heat waves of the desertroad as the sky turned towards purple twilight. The odometer on thecrimson bike clicked past 665 miles just as Ray roared over the crest of ahill. On the other side, a black semi truck appeared moving away in hislane about a half-mile ahead. As Ray closed in on the truck’s rear bumperhe could make out the personalized plates which read, ‘REAPER’! He movedto back off on the throttle…but his hand was frozen to the grip. Gettingdangerously close to slamming into the rear of the truck, Ray tried topull in the clutch with his left hand but it too was frozen in place. Evenhis feet seemed nailed to the pegs and the bike had him! He pulled awayfrom the apehangers, twisting and turning with all his might but his armswere locked in place. As a startled curse escaped his lips, the Panheadsuddenly came to life and pulled hard left into the on-coming lane!
Razor said a silent prayer when the lane turned out to be clear of anytraffic on the desert road. The scoot accelerated and Ray began to hear asound pushing up from his darkest nightmares to scream and echo within histwisted brain.
It was the sound of a thousand lost souls in eternal torment and suddenly, Razor understood what was happening.
He had known all along really. Ray glanced down at the bike’s tank to thehorrible sight of all the screaming faces in the tank’s paint moving andwrithing in endless agony; a scene from hell come to life! They were theformer owners of this ride from the dark side and he was to be the next tojoin them in damnation.
As the Panhead pulled up to the truck’s cab, Ray looked up to see blacktinted windows glaring back. The small speedo between the bars was peggedat over 90 miles per hour and for an endless, agonizing second, he watchedas the odometer clicked over to 666. The chopper began moving towards thetruck’s front wheel and Ray pulled back on the bars with every ounce ofstrength he had left. Veins stood out on his arms and though he strainedfor all he was worth, the bike was in full control. Razor let out a screamas the bike smashed into the truck’s tire and cab, turning his right leginstantly into hamburger. Ray screamed again and the truck’s horn blastedback, sounding like a cruel and unholy laugh. Then the bike made one last,great lunge forward ahead of the semi, clearing the front bumper by inchesbefore suddenly turning right, directly in front of the 18-wheeler deathmachine!
The massive collision threw Ray and the bike high in the twilight sky. Itwas an odd feeling, watching the world spin beneath him and watching, in adetached way, as the earth, the boulders, and the cactus came up fast tomeet him. Time slowed and Razor had time to think, to say goodbye to life,and to watch ashis body fell through the purple sky. The pain waited untilafter the blinding flash of impact and then came like a tidal wave.Searing pain shot through him, unrelenting, unfathomable pain fromeverywhere and nowhere at once. The bike erupted in a fireball a hundredyards away and though Ray couldn’t move a muscle, he could watch the bikeburn and melt with the one eye that still worked.
The destroyed biker was dimly aware that a large cactus seemed to havegrown through his right hand, which was twisted at a very wrong angle infront of him. Other than that, he had no way of knowing if he even stillhad legs or a spine, he could only lay amid the boulders in the fadingdesert sun, smelling his flesh fry and watch as his beloved Panheadburned, and melted, and….changed. In the distance, at the edge of hisvision, the black semi had pulled to the side of the highway and a blackhooded figure jumped from the passenger’s side door. Ray watched as thefigure moved towards the burning bike and even through the insane wall ofpain that coursed through his brain, watched as the bike began to take ona different shape. It was being re-born, forged in the fiery crash into abrand new motorcycle! The metal twisted and flexed, the tires filled withair, it was like watching a movie in reverse. As the Panhead picked itselfup and set itself down on it’s gleaming side stand, the figure in blackthrew back her cloak to reveal the raven-haired woman that rode behind himin his dreams.
Standing next to the showroom fresh, glistening chopper, the woman smiledseductively and then looked up at Ray. Tears filled his eyes then and theworld became a blur. He was aware that she was walking towards him andthat the closer she got, the louder the screaming became in his head.
Then the voices of the doomed pulled him down, down into the crimson abyss, into the darkness to join them….forever.
A face looked down through the eternal depths of red paint and wondered atthe twisted faces found there. 24-year-old Tim Aldridge was lost in thePanhead’s enchantment. The young blonde biker had wanted a bike like thisas far back as he could remember and his search had led him to Cypher’sCycle. A voice like broken glass pulled Tim from the bike’s caress, “Yep,five grand and she’s all yours.”
Tim smiled at the little troll of a man, “maybe I shouldn’t ask, but howcan you sell a bike like this so cheap?”
Louis Cypher picked at his odd, sharp little teeth. “Simple my friend,” hehissed. “I sell in volume.”
The young biker looked at the odometer between the chromed apehangers;only thirteen miles on the clock. Then he gazed back into the endless redpaint and something glittered within. He looked closer and was amazed atthe incredible attention to detail of the airbrushed faces that seemedlocked in eternal screams. One face in particular fascinated him, forlooking close at the agonized screaming mouth revealed something bizarre.Why had the artist gone to the trouble of painting twin silver lightningbolts on the front tooth?
Tim grinned at the tormented soul in the tank and said, “I’ll take it!”
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