Midnight Flight

"Oh shit! Hubby's home!" yelled the sweet young nymph that Spider had met at the local watering hole.

Spider glanced out the window and saw the headlights of the white 4 door sedan pulling into the driveway. The realization that it had a box of lights on the roof didn't exactly make him want to stay around for a chat. "What the hell, you're married, to a patrol cop?" exclaimed Spider.

"No, he's the Chief," replied Dawn.

Jumping into his boots and pulling up his pants which had been left fireman-style just for these kind of unforeseen situations, Spider stumbled for the back door, knocking loose all the knick-knacks and memorabilia that had been set on the shelf in the hallway entrance. His hyperactive brain briefly made note of the fact that they were all awards for marksmanship. "Shit!" thought Spider, "What a way to make a bad situation worse."

Jumping on his chopper from the last step out the back door, he landed square on the seat, a lot harder than he intended. "Talk about getting blue balls," he winced to himself.

Jamming his leg down on the kick start the bike roared to life. In his haste, his foot slipped off and the lever came smashing up with a sudden crack to his shin. Screaming in rage and pain he twisted the throttle and popped the clutch. Popping an unintended wheelie, his tall custom-made sissy bar hit the ground and dragged the whole length of the driveway out on to the street. Rolling off the throttle brought the Avon back to the pavement.

Spider snapped the shifter into the next gear while glancing behind him to see the "Chief" hauling ass out the front door with a shotgun. A loud blast solidified his urgency. Knowing that if caught, his bike would certainly be impounded and if he made it to jail, his long-kept secret would be known. His deception would break their hearts.

Spider had once made a promise to his folks that he wouldn't ride anymore. The long history of his old escapades on bikes doing jumps and many a month spent in the hospital made the old folks jittery whenever they heard a burbling twin. For years he still rode but kept the bike out of site in a 'Bro's' garage.

Cresting the top of what the locals call Jacob's Ladder, the bike sailed airborne. When it landed, the tires howled in protest, and the next step in the ladder launched the screaming mechanized comet skyward again.

The seven hills started to take their toll on 'Liz's' hardtail frame.

At the base of the hill Spider downshifted and stood on the rear binder. The 12 inch over girder flexed and twisted as Spider slid a wide left to shoot down a narrow alley. The fat rear tire made a staccato beat as it rubbed along a wooden fence. Shooting upright as the bike straightened out, he repeated the trick each time at every intersection. Gaining distance with every turn, Spider looked for the quickest way out of town.

Spider felt rather than heard the bikes backbone bend as he leveled out on the straightaway leading towards the salvation of a bridge crossing the river in the distance. The city's skyline was in view. "Come on, baby hold together for me," he exhorted his wailing mount. Doing well over the posted double nickle, the last hurdle to his escape was in sight. The siren's scream fading away amplified 'Liz's' howling anguish. Reaching the last obstacle to his freedom, Spider twisted the bike's throttle hard enough to bend the handle bars.

Had they been standing on the bridge that night, the Wright brothers would've thought that flight had already been mastered seeing the black banshee leap from the summit.

Landing in a screeching shower of protesting drag pipes, Spider's knees, which had formed a vice grip on the bike's frame, smacked the bottom on the coffin tank ripping the fabric of his jeans from his kneecaps and blood rapidly filled his old boots.

Bringing 'Liz' back to a slower pace, the rear tire chattered on the pavement telling Spider that 'completely round' was no longer one of the features of his rim. The chattering clutch rattled to him its tale of woe. The oil pressure light glared on as he made the last turn into the open door of Roach's shop. Making her final effort, the overstressed twin seized tight and abruptly fell silent.

Roach, standing at his workbench, raised an eyebrow and uttered, "What the hell is going on?"

Spider watched as 'Liz' broke apart to the shop floor and replied with a wink, "I'm just fulfilling a promise."

A Bad Day?

"Watch your head," said the officer as I was being shoved into the back of the cruiser. Contemplating how I ended up in this mess was just making my headache even worse, and watching the hamfisted kid loading my bike on his truck wasn't helping.

How did I end up here? Well, that's gonna take some explaining. There really is something called the Harley Davidson Mystique; sometimes you just don't see it coming.

It started simple enough, taking a cross country trip to relax and get away from it all. Just me and my girl, a Harley named Stephanie. Cruising the back roads of Iowa, passing the cornfields and country lanes. When I spotted a little cafe just up the road, I pulled in for a good ol' hearty breakfast. A dozen bikes were parked in front, and a club prospect was motioning for me to park next to a nice custom FLH.

Dismounting and heading in to the cafe, the bike club's sergeant-at-arms opened the door and welcomed me in. "You in town for the poker championship?" he asked. "Didn't even know you had one, just passing through." I replied.

Seeing what he thought was an easy mark, the road captain of the club responded, "There's a grand prize of $500 with only a $10 buy-in. Simple five card stud with jokers wild". Musing that I was a fairly good player with a decent shot of winning some much needed green prompted me to abandon my good sense and agree to sit for a few hands.

I managed to win a quite a few hands and was up $200 when common sense returned and I elected to get out while I was ahead. As you would expect, this didn't sit well with the other players.

You would have thought the patch-holders looked like a horde of marines storming the beach on D-Day when they started after me. The waitress who was simply curious about all the ruckus came out of the kitchen; lucky for me the closest of my pursuers tripped over her and then his followers fell on him like dominoes, which gave me time to haul ass out the door.

The club's prospect was heading in as I was going out. I bowled him over with a right hook and jumped on "Stephanie". Spinning dirt and gravel, I hit the road doing about eighty.

Winding that V-twin for all she was worth put me well over a hundred and a few miles from the cafe in no time flat. In the rapidly approaching distance, I saw what appeared to be a dust storm blowing accross the road.

What felt like a million hot BB's stung me as I rode into it. Katydids swarming over the fields had soaked the bike and myself; a nasty, green, gooey mess covered everything.

The heat of the engine baked the slop hard and tight, clogging the air-cooling fins of the cylinders and oil filter. Overheating almost instantly, "Steph" siezed up and busted A-rod, scattering hot oil and fragments all over my jeans.

The rear tire screeched in protest of the sudden lockup of the grenading motor. Road grit filled my torn Levi's, branding my ass with the hot oil and metal as we slid along the dirt for nearly a thousand feet. When the entire mangled mess finally came to a stop in a cloud of smoke and dust, the bike and I looked like refugees from a tornadoed trailer park.

Just when I thought things couldn't possibly get any worse. An old biddy on a golf cart rode by smirking, and yelled over at me, "Nice job there, Mr Motorcycle!" cackling to herself and continued on down the road. The distant siren drawing closer told me this day wasn't gonna get better anytime soon.

A random thought occurred to me that if I would've just gone to Hollister or Salinas, I'd have been sitting on a stool drinking a cold beer right about now.

The brief pause inside my head was interuppted by the officer's voice. "How did you find yourself gliding along the gravel on this fine sunny day?" Before I could reply the officer held up a hand and contiued, "Connie called me from the cafe and told me all about what went down." pulling me upright the cuffs were applied instantly. "Let's go, hotshot".

The cruiser hit the highway and started to head away from town. "I thought the county cell was in town?" I grunbled. "Who said anything about jail? You do something I don't already know about?" Figuring discretion being the better part of valor, I kept my tongue in check and sat silently, wondering what the hell else today had in store for me.

It turns out, Officer Wendy is a biker chick who owns her own hog named LadyR, and rides a lot of miles with her sister Connie the waitress. So, here I am stuck in this hot tub with the two sisters drinking a cold one and getting "special" treatment of my road rash. Also, it turns out the hamfisted baby brother owns a bike shop and "Steph" is being rebuilt for free in time for the three of us to ride up to Farmington, MN for the Bottoms Up Rally.

On top of all that, I'm still ahead $200.

Idle thoughts flew through my brain...can I really call this a bad day?!

"Becca's" Last Ride

Desert winds had gently unearthed the sand encrusted handlebars of "Becca", the worn chrome glistened in the early morning sun. Long buried and lost, "Becca" awakened from her dusty dreams. A voice carried over the boulders and scrub, the cadence of the sounds brought forth the long ago memories of how she came to be enshrined in a dry riverbed.
The day of Sept 2, 1972 is forever etched in her memory. It was the day that Art (Silver Fox) Valdez had first walked into the showroom of the Harley dealership in Glendale, AZ. The die had been cast, set in sweat, blood, leather and steel.

When friends were met and many adventures taken, Silver Fox's easy laugh and her contented rhythm were always paired. When attention was needed, he was always at her side, tending to her. Washing and waxing her, she always looked sharp.

When he met a lovely young woman at a social dance, she did not react in jealousy. It was understood his affection for her wouldn't change. The woman destined to be his wife would come to revere "Becca", as well. The honeymoon ride to the Bradshaw mountains was a testament to "Becca's" power and sure-footed ability. Silver Fox's riding abilities were legend. For the two week stay, many miles forged a bond for the (now) three.

Fast-moving storm clouds gathering over the horizon soon brought the need to return to "civilization". The delay in packing for the trip out gave the rain time to arrive. "Becca" labored mightily against the muddy slick trails down the mountains. Over ruts and gullies deeper and more treacherous by the minute; Silver Fox's skills, taxed to the limit, were not enough. Only "Becca's" pride and steadfast loyalty kept her upright.

The distant rumblings of rushing water rapidly closing in, she redoubled her efforts to gain traction and torque. At a quarter mile from the interstate, the race was lost. In the final moments she pitched over a gully and tossed her riders off to higher ground. The raging waters claimed her as a prize.

Silver Fox and his new bride had stumbled to the highway from the safety of higher ground. Both knew only a supernatural effort had made this possible. In the years to come the tale of "Becca's" herculean last ride was oft repeated to friends and family. Every anniversary the grateful couple would hike out to the last known spot and toast a drink to her honor. A long standing ritual of twenty-nine years.

On the thirtieth year, a family reunion was held at the spot. they regaled their grandchildren with the story of the family legend. Christian and Jayden, their oldest grandsons, walked to a small rise overlooking the wash. A flash of chrome winked in the dusty, dry wash below.

"Look Grandpa!"

The Rider - Chapter 6: Fables

David walked up the counter and sat down on a well worn stool, looking around the diner. Noting that nothing in the diner was newer than the 1950's, even the calendars on the wall still said 1952 under an advertisement extolling the virtues of the new foot shifter and hand clutch option available for the Harley-Davidson Hydra-glide Panhead of ‘52.

As he reached for the menu clipped to a condiment tray, he realized that although the parking lot was full of cars and trucks, the diner was empty besides himself and the waitress. He briefly wondered to himself that maybe the other people were behind the diner and he just hadn't seen them…or perhaps they rode off in some tour bus to sightsee.

He glanced at the menu while motioning to the waitress who had retreated to the back of the counter near the rear entrance. She didn't even glance up and seemed to him that she was purposely ignoring him. He chuckled to himself at the absurdity of it as he was the only customer in the joint. He spoke up, “Excuse me, can I put an order in?” She didn't reply. David wasn't sure if she just hadn't heard him or he was just being ignored. He repeated himself in a louder tone…No response. He stood up and walked the length of the counter to where she was standing and tapped her on the shoulder to get her attention. As he did so he noticed that she seemed trancelike, her skin was cold as ice... still she gave no response. David smacked his hand forcefully on the counter yelling, “Hey! Do you hear me?” as he watched for a reply, she faded into smoke and disappeared. While at the same time the diner was reverting into its old state of disrepair.

Momentarily stunned by what he had just witnessed, he stood blankly staring at the surroundings. The cars and trucks in front of the diner faded away. He could see his bike leaning on its side stand out in the now otherwise empty parking lot. The storm was gathering strength over the diner; the clouds swirled into a vortex and created the resemblance of an ancient fortress. The sky above and around the diner then grew more ominous and black...the air inside fell still with a sudden abruptness. From the desert a single breeze had started to drift across the gravel and seemed to him to settle on his bike. Unbidden, the ridiculous thought came to him: It appears like it's checking out my bike. Then his ears heard what sounded like the wind howling franticly: “David?”

“Okay, I got it, I'm dreaming,” said David aloud. “I just gotta wake up. It's gotta be the stress from sleeping under that overpass last night. I gotta stop working so many hours. Maybe it's paint fumes from the garage attached to the house, I'll check the cans when I wake...I'm home in bed...just gotta wake up...” At the same time he knew...this was no dream. Bizarre as it may be, it was too real; the air was too crisp, the smells too clear,
the feel of his surroundings too solid to be a dream. Then there was the feeling of severe deja vue.

But still what he was seeing and hearing couldn’t possibly be real. He started to run towards the door and got no closer to the entrance, as hard as he ran it was as if he was on a treadmill going nowhere. He screamed out in frustration...the sound didn't travel, it just fell from his lips around him. “Is this what the beginning of insanity is like?” thought David. “No,” replied his subconscious, “you know what this is,” Long forgotten memories drifted to him slowly. His mind took him back in time to when he was young....He remembered his grandfather and his dad talking about old legends; the Riders. At the time he was hearing those stories he knew instinctively that they were not mere fables. How he knew that was never really clear to him, but as he listened he always seemed aware that he knew more details than the narrative was telling, almost as if the knowledge was hardwired into his psyche. It was if he had actually been there once. But, as the years passed since, he had begun to convince himself that he had heard the stories when he was much younger and was just remembering details from then. Now it became clear to him......they weren't fables.

Knowledge flooded back into his consciousness. He knew who he really was...and his true calling. Instinct took over and he whirled around to see what had been the back entrance....was now opening to another dimension. The sudden clarity of his mind forced David into action.

Yasuda! ...He can't be allowed into this plane. The only access for him is with a connection to a still-mortal Rider. “But,” he thought, “if I am not on this plane he can't break through.”

He dove into the portal...

The Rider - Chapter 5: Yasuda

"What the hell do you mean David's disappeared?" exclaimed D pounding his fist on the table in emphasis.
A-rod jumped to his feet and yelled "How do you lose somebody...I thought you see all?"
The Boss replied "Look guys, you know how this works...I just oversee this Earth....I'm not in charge of the whole universe. I don't make the rules... I just make sure that 'natural' laws are followed and prevent undue influence by outside forces. My job is to make sure that free will is paramount and to let events here take their own course."
"I'd have to say you're doing a pretty shitty job of it, if you can't even keep track of one man." replied Kingpin.
"If this is the kind of overseeing you do...that sure explains a lot of this royally screwed up planet's history!" yelled A-rod.
"Apparently you can't even do that, as you somehow lost my grandson! Good job." said D sarcastically. "Can you even tell us what happened?"

The 'Breeze', after notifying the 'Boss', flew quickly to tell her Elemental friends what had just occurred. She found them gathered together at the base of a mountain. V, Julie and Shannon were tending to the south side. Earth would toss up various colored minerals and Fire would bake them onto the rock face. Then Water would cool them down to set. This was part of their day to day duties in the southwest, and was one of the most enjoyed, ensuring the various shades of color known as the Painted Desert would always be there for future generations to enjoy. "It's about time you arrived; we could have used your help getting the minerals blown higher up on the cliffs." said Julie. "We need to get up to the boss's place, there is an emergency...David is missing." replied Ann. Without questioning or delay the three elements joined with Breeze. To Air, Fire was added, then Water, and Earth. The combination produced a small but powerful tornado, which then lifted up into the sky. The whirlwind descended onto the boss's cloud and the dissipated back into its separate elements. "Let's go" said V.

The four Elements, called Breeze/Air (Ann), Fire (Julie), Water (V) and Earth (Shannon), entered the room. Ann went straight over to D and said, "What I saw was not natural to this world. It was like a hole in space had materialized in the sky over that diner. David's not on that plane of existence anymore. He has passed out of his space and time".
D jumped up, grabbed the table and flung it across the room. It tore through the walls and out to infinity. "How is that even possible?"
The rage in the three Riders eyes was clear enough to melt diamonds. Kingpin, who had stood up at the arrival of the women, was unconsciously squeezing the back of the heavy wooden chair he had just vacated. The wood shattered into powder.
A-rod stamped his foot in fury and splintered the entire marble floor into fragments.
"It's not supposed to be possible. Something or someone is altering the fabric of light and gravity, creating a doorway through dimensions. And we need to find out whom, how and more importantly... Why?" replied the Boss.
Julie spoke up and said, "Mortals are at least a century away from this kind of technology…and even then, not on this scale. That means someone from our side of the realm has to be doing it."
V said "Why David? Is it random or by design?"
"It can't be Random. There's too much work involved for it to be accidental. David had to have been the target." said Shannon.
Julie said, "If David is the target…why and for what? Who stands to gain from David's absence?"
"If we can figure out the answer to that question ...Then we'll know where to start." said Kingpin.
"David has no enemies on this side...there's no point. His life doesn't affect our realm". said V.
"Ah...but he does. His life is tied to everyone in this room. What concerns him affects us." replied Ann.
"Ok then…who would gain by our being affected or distracted?" said Julie.
"You can't affect the laws or power of the Elements. Their mandate is absolute and unchangeable. And any coercion would only affect the earthbound plane. And, since each one of the Elementals only controls the geographical area they are assigned...to affect a change you would have to gather the power of all the thousands of Elementals worldwide. And also, since you four are the only ones seemingly connected, that rules you out for being the target." said The Boss. "Which leaves you three," he said, referring to the Riders. And who would stand to gain by your absence? It can only be... Yasuda!"

Yasuda's name was well known by all in the room; he had been a legendary warrior at the beginning of history and upon his death in battle had become one of the first immortal Riders.
Choosing, instead of honor, to turn against his kind; he was banished from the realm, vowing one day to return and reign over all, and making all Riders his sworn enemies.

"He knows that as long we exist, our presence would prevent him from altering events to his own agenda, he could not succeed. But, if he stops David, it will break the succession of Riders who come after us. He also knows that we would pursue and stop him." said A-rod forcefully.
Kingpin responded by clenching his fists and exclaiming, "He's laying a trap for us!"

The Rider - Chapter 4: Storm Clouds

As the rays from the rising sun pierced the dusty windowpanes of David's bedroom, the illuminating streaks made the shadows of the slats of the wood and caulk grow ever thinner and longer. The beams danced over the colorful, yet well-worn apache rug that surrounded David's bed. The light fell into his old boots lying haphazardly next to the old cedar chest that rested against the foot board. A few seconds passed, and to any observer it would have appeared that the light had jumped out of the boot directly onto the denim vest that hung on the bedpost. Then it slowly and surely crawled up along the down comforter and the still form atop the mattress, finally reaching its limits on the soundly sleeping man's face. The thin membranes of his eyelids could not prevent the assault, and abruptly he was stirred awake.

It had not been more than two hours since he had arrived home after finding himself sleeping under an old highway bridge. How he had found himself there and the strange dream he had experienced was still fresh in his mind. As he rolled over and sat up on the edge of the bed he thought, "It must be due to overwork." After all, the extra hours he had been putting in at work to save for the upcoming trip to the Sturgis motorcycle rally had surely had begun to take their toll. But, despite having only spent two hours asleep, he found he was surprisingly refreshed.
He rose up and walked over to his bureau and shook the stuck drawer loose to slide it open over the protesting sounds of wood on wood. He reached in a pulled out a pair of raggedy old black jeans, a pair of holey socks and a pristine black t-shirt that showed a flaming skull silk-screened on the front and back with the letters AZ Bike Week Glendale…2045. He got dressed quickly; pulling on his old snakeskin boots, and headed out the backdoor to the still-warm sporty.

He sat astride the bike and lit up a smoke, enjoying the morning air. When he glanced at watch on his left arm and saw that it was still too early to head into work just yet, a plan came to mind of a long ride around some of the back roads not usually taken on his normal routes and hopefully finding a breakfast diner. It seemed like just the thing. Finishing his smoke, he stubbed it out with the heel of his boot, switched on the key and pushed the starter button firing "Annabelle" to life. With the toe of his boot he snapped the shifter into gear, released the clutch, twisted the throttle, spinning tires and gravel blasted out on to the pavement.

There is simply no better way of life than tooling down old country roads on a Harley in the warm, clear morning air of the Sonoran desert. As he took the long route through the old canyons and desert plains, David realized that this stretch of road was one he had ridden several years ago and he tried to recall if there were any diners along the way. The only one that came to mind was an old abandoned one from the 1950's that was about a mile ahead. "I guess I'll just have to wait til I get back into town," he thought. As he crested the small hill on the road, the old diner came into view. There were old cars and period trucks parked in front of it, and the old sign looked restored. "Must be a car show," he surmised as he pulled up to the front entrance.

The diner was open for business. The bike was leaned over onto its stand; he reached down turned the fuel off and switched the key back and out, and dismounted in one fluid motion. Briefly glancing skyward on his way into the diner, he noticed the sky had swiftly and suddenly gathered dark clouds. "Lucky I found this open. Looks like it's gonna rain like hell with those black thunder busters forming." The waitress didn't reply she just smiled and closed the door behind him.

The "Breeze" carried herself aloft the desert sky and surveyed her surroundings. In the distance she saw dark clouds forming and thought, "There were no storms scheduled for today in this area, "and drifted over to investigate. When she arrived, the remains of a long forgotten and crumbling building came into view just below the ominous clouds. The well-worn and barely legible sign out front read: Bob's Diner. Parked near what was the front entrance was a shiny old bike, which upon investigating she knew to be her namesake from her mortal life. It now belonged to her grandson. She knew that he would never leave his precious steed out in the desert, abandoned. The wind howled... David???

The Rider Chapter 3: Betcha Can't

The three Riders headed across the highway to the rendezvous with the "Boss". A slight fog drifted along the road and began to envelop the path ahead. D twisted the throttle and smiled, surging ahead. Kingpin saw this and responded, "Betcha can't," and throttled up to pass. A-rod, watching all this from behind, just laughed and watched the two race toward the mist.

The two racing riders reached the summit of the road and left the pavement flying wheel to wheel and proceeded to race across the sky. A-rod watched as he also headed upwards to the heavens. Kingpin shifted down a gear and twisted the grip, pulling ahead and twisting his mount through the canyons. D slid sideways accross the sky and took the high path over the mountians. The two Riders exited the desert sky neck to neck leaving contrails in the air. Both Riders ran side by side into the white horizion. The clouds melted away to reveal a bridge leading up to a floating mesa. And on the plateau was a simple, yet large cabin. Kingpin and D screeched to a sliding stop in front of the doorway at exactly the same instant. A-rod arrived just moments later, parked alongside the two bikes and dismounted. A-Rod said, "That was impressive as always, but as usual it was a tie." Kingpin responded "I was taking it a little slow so as not to embarrass D and his sporty." "Yeah, right," D responded, "that rolling couch you ride belongs in a living room parked in front of a television!"

A-rod just laughed and said "You know, neither one of you can outrun my pan." D replied, "Your pan? I thought this was a race not a Sunday putt. I could outrun that thing in neutral!" Kingpin smiled and said "Betcha can't!"

Laughing, the three Riders entered the cabin. The "Boss" was sitting at the head of a large wooden dining table drinking from a large mug shaped like a panhead cylinder jug. He looked over at the three Riders who joined him at the table. He didn't speak for a few minutes. Then he looked over at D and said, "A snowstorm in June? I don't even want to hear the explanation for that one." Kingpin and A-rod laughed at that comment. The Boss looked over at those two and said, "What are you laughing at? You two are just as bad, with you, Kingpin, becoming visible to mortals and racing across the highway tormenting the radar officers who used to give you tickets back when you were a mortal. Then disappearing into the ether when they pull you over. And you, A-rod, you know you're not supposed to interfere with the lives of your mortal family; sneaking in and changing events to their advantage. Its noble and all, but we have guardians to do that." He continued, "And then the fact that all three of you keep pulling jokes on the four elementals Fire ,Wind ,Water and Earth just because they were your wives and friends in life! They have duties to perform and you clowns are just screwing around. You get them all riled up and then I get an earful about it. I'm not gonna stop them when they decide to fix your little hijinks! But I'll deal with those transgressions later. Right now, we have more serious concerns."

"David has disappeared."