Page 71 of The Chase

It had taken about an hour before they spotted the first rider. A huge, black Harley Fat Boy. The man on it, wearing all black. Colt had spotted him first. He’d done a double take into the rearview mirror. A slight tilt of his head, but April had seen it. And their carefree, excited mood had just flipped slightly. Just a little switch. But it was no longer about driving fast and enjoying the buzz. April had swallowed and it had suddenly taken on a sharper edge. There was a bite to the air in the car that there hadn’t been before. April flipped down her passenger side sun visor and angled it so she could use the vanity mirror to look behind. The highway no longer felt like the fun, safe place it had, moments before. She asked Colt if the biker was definitely Black Coyotes.

Colt hadn’t answered her immediately. Instead, he changed lanes on the highway slowly, casually, like they were on their way to a shopping mall, or church maybe. A casual morning drive. Not a second later, the bike behind switched lanes, too.

Colt tilted his head. “There’s your answer,” he ground out.

It had been inevitable, she tried to remind herself rationally, as she watched the biker follow them. It was bound to happen. She barely blinked, Colt gradually sped up. And so did their shadow. They followed at the same distance, but discreetly. A few hours later, she was burned out. Her face muscles felt sore and her neck hurt. Not to mention the pounding pulse in her throat. And of course her sweaty palms.

They’d continued for a few more hours. Colt gradually increasing his speed from the speed limit, to just above. How she would drive if she was late for work, on a normal day, perhaps. Colt had then pushed to a definite speed increase. How she’d drive if she was late for a very important appointment. Then to an unmistakable speed. April wouldn’t have driven at that speed. It was the kind of speed that had other drivers shaking their heads and pulling out of the way. And Colt had taken it up a notch even after that. How she felt now would be appropriate for a rollercoaster rather than in a car on the highway. She was dizzy, like she wanted to squeal except her throat was frozen tight. Waves of adrenaline slapped against her. The dizziness was making her feel sick. So she gripped the leather seat even tighter.

Then two other bikes turned up. Flanking Colt and April’s Mercedes. The police joined for a while, inevitably, too, a cruiser with its reds and blues flashing, bringing up the rear. Colt didn’t slow down. True to his word, Colt drove hard and fast. So did the other bikers, though. April had felt a surge of relief seeing the police. Maybe they could arrest the bikers, once April and Colt had explained who they were and what the situation was. They could explain her father is a senior FBI agent. But no, the police cruiser turned its lights off, and turned around, having been more like an escort than an additional threat or active participant in the chase.

Colt tutted but didn’t look surprised. He’d muttered something about ‘dirty pigs’ and carried on driving.

Then a large Ford van joined the bikes. It was black, April did a double take in her vanity mirror.

“That’s the van they took me in!” she exclaimed. Colt flashed a glance in the rearview mirror. He set his jaw but said nothing. April looked back to the front.

She saw something out of the corner of her eye. Bam. They jolted. The car twisted ninety degrees. Another car had plowed in their side.

“Fuck!” Colt swore, as he fought to control the steering wheel.

April shuddered. “Colt, I think we should-” The rear windshield exploded, a hail of glass shards suddenly dusted the back seats.

Colt hit the gas pedal. The car hesitated then shot forward.

“That was a gunshot… that was a gunshot,” April chanted to herself as the car spun, she could smell burning rubber now.

More shots.

“Colt… hit the gas, hit the gas!” she shouted. Colt ignored her, swerving around a corner rather than hitting the accelerator. The car screamed in agony, protesting. April forced herself to peer into the rearview mirror. One of the bikers couldn’t make the turn to follow, they were going too fast. The bike slipped out from under him as the biker wiped out on the road and slid.

“Oh shit!” April heard herself swear. She locked her eyes on the biker, she couldn’t tell if he got up or stayed down. Did that mean he was dead? Her heart thudded.

“One down,” Colt ground out, handbrake turning around another corner. “Hold the wheel, April.”

“What?” she stuttered.

“Hold it straight.”

He let go, reached down, and pulled out the gun. April felt the air change around them. Danger. It even smelled different now. April gulped.

He eased off the gas a little, the car slowing painfully. April reached over and grabbed the wheel with claw-like fingers. White knuckled. She looked ahead, swerved a little, realizing she was steering now. He’d chosen a stretch of long, straight road, very few cars. He knew what he was doing with all of this. She should feel worried, terrified, but she didn’t, she felt safe. Like she was on a rollercoaster that was way above her thrill threshold, but ultimately no matter how it thundered and twirled and looped, it was safe. That was how Colt made her feel, that was how she felt on this fast, dangerous ride with him, this chase. Thrilled, safe.

Colt leaned out the driver side window. He held the gun up, paused for a moment. She dared a glance at him. He was silent, still, calm. He aimed down the barrel of the gun.

And crack. It went off.

April wobbled the steering wheel involuntarily and whimpered. She flicked her eyes to the rearview mirror and saw another biker, much closer than she’d expected. Red liquid exploded from his shoulder. She heard him yowl and swerve off their trail. She let a breath pass over her cracked lips. She glanced back again, the biker couldn’t control the bike, he was drifting into the other lane, into oncoming traffic. It was like slow motion. Closer to that double yellow line, over it, a box truck blared its horn.

She closed her eyes. Now she understood “wipe the slate clean”. She swallowed, but set her jaw. If this is what their freedom cost them, then this is how she paid for it. She’d recall that noise for the rest of her life in the quiet, small hours of the night. But at least she’d have a life to be haunted. She’d judged the MC harshly at first for its outlaw status, its lack of moral compass. How the men, including Colt, set their own rules. Turned out, she was as ruthless and dark as them.

The hair-raising chase continued.

“Two down,” Colt said as he pulled back into the car and took control of the steering wheel. He sat the gun down into the drink holder between them. She clung onto the leather seat again, focusing on the horizon, throwing glances at Colt. He drove like a man on the edge, determined, as if his life depended on it. She saw his aggression now, he could be cold blooded. And he refused to lose.

He ran a red light.

They hurtled onto an empty road that suddenly filled with cars. Red, blue, moving fast. Colt swerved. April had never had such a near miss. But then-

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