Page 56 of No Time Off

We wound back and forth beneath the canopy and ferns. I’d lost sight of our pursuer as I gritted my teeth and pressed my face against the driver’s back after being whacked by a branch several times. I was starting to get the hang of anticipating the bumps and leaning in concert with the driver. My eyes narrowed into slits against the mud sprays, and my hair was snagged with leaves and twigs.

The faint sound of our pursuer echoed behind us until finally I couldn’t hear him anymore. I let myself relax slightly, praying we’d finally lost him.

Suddenly, a gunshot snapped through the undergrowth, the hum slicing the air inches from me. I gasped as wood chips exploded off a nearby tree trunk. I spotted the dark silhouette of a motorbike on a parallel path to the left of us, still weaving in pursuit.

“I thought you said he’d never hit anything,” I shrieked at the driver.

“He didn’t hit anything,” the driver shouted back. “Why are you screaming? He just got lucky that once. Trust me, it won’t happen again.”

The bike’s left-side mirror exploded, hurling glass fragments all over the driver.

“Okay, maybe it will happen again,” the driver conceded. “Just keep your head down. I’m going to try and go a little faster.”

A little faster? Was he insane? We were already careening through the jungle at suicidal speeds, like a cheetah on a coffee high.

Another shot came perilously close, but my driver appeared to be quite experienced and maneuvered expertly, making us a difficult target. I kept an eye on our pursuer the best I could, but I expected a bullet through my back at any moment.

At some point, the paths merged again, and once again the shooter was behind us. Thankfully, he had stopped shooting…at least for the moment. He was either having trouble keeping up with the increased pace we had set, or he needed to reload his gun and couldn’t do that while driving so fast. Nevertheless, I tried to squeeze myself into the tiniest target I could while I held on tightly.

“Hold on!” my driver yelled, as if I wasn’t already squeezing my arms around his waist with all my might. Then, without warning, he slowed and suddenly swung the motorcycle around in a 180, facing the gunman and returning fire in short bursts. It forced our pursuer to throttle back and guide his bike into the jungle for cover.

“What the heck?” I shrieked as he wheeled us back around and throttled forward again, putting some important distance between us. “How about a warning next time?”

“I did warn you,” he yelled.

“Not that you had a gun and were going to shoot him.”

He didn’t answer and pushed onward for what seemed like forever but was probably only another mile. As best I could tell, we had swung away from the mountains and were headed back toward the beach. Our pursuer had dropped farther back, and I couldn’t hear him anymore over the roar of our bike and the jungle’s natural soundtrack—chirping insects and shrieking birds.

Just as I thought we might have shaken our pursuer, an unexpected slope flung us down a small ravine. The path curved to the left, and the driver angled our bike sharply to avoid slamming into a boulder. I clung to him with the last of my strength. Finally, we came to an abrupt stop.

The driver twisted around on the seat. “Are you okay?” he asked me.

I considered. “I don’t know. I might not be breathing at the moment.”

He grinned. “You’re doing good, and we’re getting closer to our destination. We either need to lose our friend for good or we’ll have to lead him away from the prime minister. This part is going to be tricky, so just stay with me, okay?”

I nodded. “Okay.”

“Hold tight.” I gripped him around the waist as he maneuvered the bike slowly around the boulder and drove slowly and carefully down the rest of the ravine.

Even going slowly, it was challenging, with the tires skidding on the wet and slimy rocks and the driver fighting to keep our bike upright. My heart was pounding. Miraculously, he somehow kept control of the bike until we finally exited the ravine.

Just as we reached the rise on the far side, we pulled to a stop and saw the dark rider come into view. He had obviously been pushing high speeds to catch up with us. Carrying the extra speed, he couldn’t control his bike, and he and his bike slid down the ravine, heading directly for the boulder we’d barely avoided. When impact was imminent, he threw himself off the bike just as it hit the boulder with a grinding crunch, parts of the bike scattering around the ravine.

I gasped, covering my mouth. I couldn’t see the driver at first and wondered if he was dead. But after a minute, I saw him stagger into view. His clothes on his right side were shredded and bloody from the gravel where he slid with the bike. His visor was up and cracked, and he was limping badly, holding his right arm. He was alive, but it would be a while until he could get back to civilization, and he would have no idea in which direction we were headed.

Our pursuit ended, we sped away, following the path at a sedate pace until we soon came out of the dense foliage and onto a crushed-shell road. Shortly we could see a paved road ahead. The rain had stopped altogether now, though there were puddles remaining everywhere, but not for long, based on my experience with sandy soils. My driver pulled off to the side and waited and watched cautiously, scanning for trouble.

“We’re close,” my driver said, his eyes continuously searching the road ahead. “We just have to follow that road for a short distance, cross over towards the beach, and we’re there.”

“So, why are we stopping here?”

“Just being extra careful. It would be most unfortunate to get caught now. What’s your name?”

“Lexi,” I said.

“Ah, so you’re Lexi. I’m Paul. Well, Lexi, you held it together quite well. Good on ya, sheila. I’m impressed.”

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