Salvation

chapter 11

Brawley, California

3:00 PM

Nick took a frontage road off the 8 freeway as he

neared the city of El Centro. A farming community

serving the produce growers of California's Imperial

Valley..He turned left and navigated a series of dirt

access roads working his way north to the cattle town

of Brawley where he'd pick up the head of highway

78 north. A two lane alternate route making it's way

north east to Blythe where the 10 freeway intersected.

It was the town of Blythe where he planned to wait

for Michelle's call.

Brawley appeared quiet as he rode through the

downtown sector. A combination of manure and

hay scent waft the air. The district maintained an old

school 1950's atmosphere where one might still expect

department stores advertised as a five and dime.

The speed limit an excruciating twenty five miles per hour.

Cable strung stop lights with a red track mind left Nick

exposed and vulnerable.

After ten nerve racking minutes of stop and go he finally sat at the

head of 78 north waiting for the final light to turn green.

It was there, across the street, outside a rundown liquor store

he first saw the man.

Nick's impulse was that of a solemn resolve.

A gut instinct unquestionably dictating to Nick's soul the man

did not belong.

As if in direct defiance to Nick's initial judgement the man

seemed as if he not only belonged, but ruled his surroundings.

The arms where stretched outward like the wings of a bird.

The wrists limp, the hands dangling.

In the left he held what appeared to be a bottle of Orange

Crush that swung against the rhythm of a dance.

A dance that reminded Nick of a waltz..

A waltz originating from a distant age created under

dark foreboding skies.

From an ancient time when Man was but a spice added to a

mixture of emerging concepts.

Light and Dark finding themselves inadvertently stirred

and mingled within the boundaries of a great cauldron.

Gasping and suffocating at the repulsive touch and stench

of the other with no escape.

Out of an intolerable disharmony the fabric of separation was born.

Lines drawn, sides chosen, legions formed, in symbolic denial

and rebellion against the truth of a great catastrophe.

Through the concept of elimination great weapons were

forged into the world.

Legions of the Dark awaited in bound cages their

rights of birth.

Unleashed upon the world by mechanism of a summons.

Enacted through the movements of a dance. Performed in

forbidden forests under dark reflected moonlight, to an

audience of yellow eyes.

And as he danced his surroundings grew.

Emanating from the ground he stood on.

Seeping low and outward in all directions like the shadow

of a cloud absorbing the streets and buildings

of the entire township and beyond.

Attached to the belt loop of a tan colored zoot suit

flashed a gold watch case suspended by a chain.

Nick couldn't see the eyes.

A matching colored fedora was cocked and forward

leaving only a blissful smile to the imagination.

The light turned green and Nick crossed the intersection

drawing the attention of the man.

He dared not return the gaze but kept his eyes focused

down the road.

The blissful smile erupted into a gapping cheerful grin.

As if the sight of Nick brought to mind a sudden realization

of a deep dark secret known only to himself.

Nick felt the eyes bore deep into his back raising goose flesh

down his spine. The 78 mercifully bent itself around a swooping

left putting the man's line of sight behind him.

Two miles down the road his heart rate slowed to normal.

To his left a dairy farm seemed to stretch for miles. Grazing

pastures lush with green mixed against plowed dirt fields

anticipating planting..

Like salt and pepper sprinkled across the land, black

and white Jerseys forged their way northward fronting

the roadway. It was a fun road to travel given to combinations

of short straightaways then left and right exchanges as the road

worked it's way north then east then north again.

After navigating a particularly tight left Nick jammed down on

the breaks hard causing a slight fishtail from the rear end.

Cattle were in the roadway. A large break in the fencing exposed

their means of escape..Behind them a hundred Jerseys marched

in single file toward a common destination. To the north hundreds

more crowded the fence line their bodies rigid and alert as if

deciding where their rightful place stood in the ever growing

exit line.

Nick brought the bike to a standing halt. His jaw dropped,

eyes bulging in amazement and horror.

Dead cows were in the roadway..

Dropping stone dead as their hooves touched the black surface

of the tarmac. Piling on the shoulder ten feet wide...

The line of the dead slowly merging into the left lane as

those that came after staggered their way over fallen

brethren until they too became victims of the road.

The black and white barrier grew steady and thick reaching

the center yellow division strip of faded double lines

and spilling into the right lane.

Nick still had time to circumvent them on the right shoulder

but time was running out.

He leaned forward peering at the roadway seeking a device

crossing it that might explain the phenomenon..

He detected nothing but was gripped with fear of becoming a

victim himself once breaking the apparent invisible line.

The massacre continued relentless closing the gap.

He put the Harley in first and slipped the clutch crossing

the line at the extreme right shoulder.

As he did the cattle to the north stampeded the fence line.

Five hundred feet ahead of him they charged the fence

like a battering ram laying it to waste.

Gone were the docile brown eyes of submissive beasts

of burden. Replace instead by a malevolent rage of bloodlust.

They hurled through the mangled fence kicking and

screaming, snapping back their gum lines exposing perfect

rows of two inch square cap teeth.

Nick slammed the bike in second gear and the earth shook.

The rear tire bit and slipped against the bucking road bed.

A billowing curtain of cloudy dust rose up behind the stampede

catching the up draft of Santa Anna creating a wall of

storm..

Three hundred feet away he screamed "third!" catching

the upper gear gaining speed..

The road bucked again as inertia slammed the dead

against pavement sliding and building against the shoulder.

All eyes where trained on him now. Frenzied eyes that

glared determination.

The air filled with deafening thunder.

Charging hooves,breaking bones, snapping jaws, and

the barking exhaust of an accelerating Harley Softail.

Two hundred feet out the left lane was completely

covered. What had taken minutes for the cattle to

accomplish previously now had taken only a

few seconds.

He punched fourth gear as a cow plundered into the

right lane. A hundred feet to go and the gap was

there..So were the cows.

Charging over the fallen, it's neck extended like a

race horse, the murderous right eye of the cow

knew it had him.

Nick slid against the gas tank and targeting the gap

then let go of the handle bars..

The cow launched it's self into the air.

Nick laid his back down flat against the seat and

raised his left leg off the driving peg.

Turning it's head in mid air the cow barred it's teeth

to meet the on coming prey.

Locking his knee, raising his leg, like a lance his left boot crushed

through a mouth of gnashing teeth. It's head

jerked left forcing the bike right.

Staring directly at the sky, Nick watched as the

massive head passed over him an inch above his

brow line crashing to the road a fraction behind the

rear fender.

Grabbing the bars he tore himself from the seat and leaned

left with all his might cutting diagonally across the lanes.

He shook his head up shifting to fifth cranking open the

throttle grip he burned down the roadway against a sand

storm sky.

4:00 PM

Michelle found conditions on the east 90 state highway only

slightly improved, but as the miles slowly gathered carrying her

farther from the center of Los Angeles air quality and visibility

began to improve.

She had just merged onto the 60 east in Riverside, a twenty

five mile stretch that would link her with Interstate 10 east

when she fell in behind a small group of motorcyclists ahead

of her. Mimicking their pathways through congestion and

accident scenes.

The ability to see obstructions farther ahead rewarded an

overall improvement in her state of mind. Now with the added

comfort knowing others such as her self were finding success

cautiously freeing themselves from the chaotic region.

She had been on the road for three and a half hours

covering a total distance of seventy five miles.

Fatigue had settled between her shoulder blades.She

needed water badly plus the slow progression had used

two thirds of the bike's fuel.

Riverside was too dangerous to consider stopping. Soon

she would merge on the 10 east down the San Gorgonio

Pass to small desert towns where she would find a quiet

spot to fuel the bike and call her parents and Nick.

That goal still lay one hundred miles away.

The bikers ahead of her slowed abruptly swinging around

a bad accident. People were standing in the roadway and

as Michelle navigated a slow turn a man appeared clutching

and hurdling at her. His right leg was wounded and dragging

behind as he leapt trying to pull Michelle from the bike.

She ducked her head instinctively and the man's out

stretched hands caught the dome of her helmet deflecting

his strength allowing her to speed passed.

It happened so fast she first thought a large bird had

mistakenly flown into her path. Not until she glanced in

the right side mirror seeing the man sprawled on the

roadway did she realize she'd been attacked.

In the moments following the incident she became

resolved. She wanted to be with Nick. She suddenly

realized getting to Nick was the driving force that had

given her the fierce determination to get through this

ordeal..She straightened her back releasing muscle

tensions and allowed her self the luxury of hope.

After all she'd been through this day and most certainly

the worst behind her she felt a new energy.

Even the ass hole on the hard tail custom chopper behind

her couldn't intimidate her now..

He'd been dogging her tail for the last ten miles trying

to pass her. The close zigzag moves around traffic

and debris hadn't allowed a passing opportunity and

with each mile the rider's frustration was becoming

more aggressive.

Finally the road opened for a quarter mile and the

chopper blasted past. The rider's left arm

extended flipping her the finger. The frame and

gas tank were a combination of air brushed

red and orange flames over a yellow base.

Raked forks, ape hanger handle bars, and bright

chrome engine casing. The rear tire wide

and thick like a hot rod roadster's.

The extended appendage of the rider continued

waving like a flag as it barreled down the road

passing the other motorcyclists as well.

Michelle breathed relief as the fat oversized rear

tire disappeared from view..

"Nick" she whispered.."Soon I'll be with Nick."

Tags: Fiction

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