Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 72756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 364(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 364(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
“Sounds like an engine,” says the guy in back with me. He shrugs, and looks back to his phone. “Probably just a truck that needs to be worked on or something. Leave it for the traffic boys.”
The driver laughs. “Yeah, not pulling anyone over in this thing. Once we get this one dropped off, you want to grab a beer?”
“Yeah, sounds good.”
The rumble grows louder, more like a growl now. Through the glare from the cop car behind us, it's hard to make out anything, but I think there're more lights out there, coming closer.
A lot of lights.
The driver adjusts his mirror. “Jesus, that's bright. Is there a rally this weekend?”
“Not that I know of.”
Now that gets my attention. I look out the back window again, and he's right. There’s a whole forest of headlights, weaving back and forth across all three lanes of the highway.
Oh God, it can't be them, can it? What are they going to do?
“The fucking MCs, they're going to ruin this place. Heard about the ones causing trouble a couple weeks back?” The cop with the phone shakes his head. “Hopefully this one of the good ones. Or at least that they know enough not to fuck with us.”
My hands are handcuffed behind my back, but I grab wads of my shirt and squeeze them in my fists as I watch the lights. I just need something to hold onto.
Louder and louder. The rumble is so strong that I can feel it, not just hear it. A hope I didn't know I still had rises at that sound. How many bikes are there? I was expecting three, but there are enough headlights back there that I can't easily count them, not the way they weave back and forth.
But it's got to be them.
Did they bring the whole club?
The first couple of bikes overtake the rear squad car, but their headlights are so bright that I still don't recognize them. And by the time they're close enough, they're alongside and the van doesn't have windows on the sides. But I'm sure now.
“What the fuck are these assholes doing?” yells the driver. “They're gonna cause an accident if they don't watch it.”
The first bike pulls ahead of the van, and I'd recognize that shape even if I couldn't read Preacher on the back of his leather jacket.
It's them.
But what are they going to do? And the bikes just keep coming, overtaking our little cavalcade and surrounding it. Suddenly a speaker turns on out there, and it's blasting the Ride of the Valkyries! I can't help but laugh.
The cop with the phone looks over at me. “What? Think they're funny? Fucking road scum.”
I clam up and shrug. He can think what he wants. I know the truth. They’re the best men I know.
“It's the fucking Screaming Eagles,” groans the driver. “Why are they fucking with us? This isn’t even their turf.”
I strain my neck trying to see what's going on outside. All the lights and shadows make it difficult to see. There’s the boom of a gunshot and one of the van’s headlights goes out. The driver swerves but corrects it quickly.
“Fuck!”
What are they doing?
The car in front of us pulls off to the side, but we don't slow down.
“I'm gonna try to shake 'em!” yells the driver and just narrowly misses one of the bikes as he speeds up and veers out into the middle lane. God, he's going to hurt someone.
The bikes part for a moment to let us through and we blow ahead. I try not to lose hope yet. We're going faster, but there's nothing but empty highway ahead of us. There's still time for them to… I don't know. Is there a plan other than trying to force the van to the side of the road?
The headlights had been falling behind, but now they're coming again, and this time the rear squad car has been forced to fall back. They’re acting like a pack of wolves, working together to isolate their target.
A bike roars up on our right. It's Preacher again, keeping pace, but staying far enough away that the van can't just swerve into him and knock him off. Please stay safe. There's no point to this if they're just going to get hurt for my sake.
Another bike roars up on the left. It’s Crash, with Devil hanging onto the back.
“What the fuck is he—”
Crash drops back to the side of the van, as something thumps down on the roof. Seriously, Devil didn't actually…
“Someone's on the damn roof!” snaps the woman. She looks up as the thumps move forward.
I shake my head in denial. Is he insane? If he gets shaken off, he's going to die.
As if in response to my worries, the driver swerves. “This isn’t a fucking action movie! Jesus Christ. I’m not being paid enough for this.”