MASON
The wind roared almost as loudly as the engine as I gunned the bike down the road that ran along the outskirts of the city. I'd heard that the entire point of the long stretches of road had been to allow people to enjoy a leisurely drive along the coast. That had worked in the fifties when people wanted to do stuff like that, but the world moved on, and some things were left behind to collect dust, like antiques on a shelf.
Or they would, if they weren't repurposed, which is exactly what had happened to the Avenue Lanes as they had once been called. Now, they were mostly used for transporting goods, but at night, they were fantastic places for people like me to enjoy getting their wheels on the road and seeing just how fast they could go. And if you were feeling particularly daring, you could take them all the way down to the southern end of Cresson Point, where the former Avenue Lanes turned into a twisting, turning mess that threatened to dump you over the cliffs and onto the rocks and crashing waves below.
It was past three in the morning, the perfect time for me to test what my new bike could do. It hadn't rained for a couple of days, so the roads weren't treacherous. At that time of night, there wouldn't be many people for me to worry about avoiding.Technically, I was long overdue in Cresson Point proper, but I was pretty sure my family could wait a while longer.
The air was cool and sharp with the smell of salt, whipping around my face as I twisted the throttle. The first twists and turns were coming up, and I felt my heart beat faster in anticipation. It had been years since I'd come this far out instead of staying in Cresson Point with my family at the hotel. I would have done the same this year, but I'd heard they’d redone the roads along this route, and considering I was already driving to Cresson Point, the temptation to give it a whirl after all these years was too great to pass up.
The first few turns were easy enough. I leaned into them and grinned as I felt the bike kick back when I eased off after a turn, then twisted the throttle into the next. The bike vibrated between my legs as I roared forward, once again easing off to do it again. That was just the beginning and good practice for when the roads snaked harder than a sidewinder.
As the road straightened, I tilted my head to peer through the visor at the sky. Not a trace of clouds, a rare sight at this time of year in this part of the country. The moon was bright as it glittered over the ocean, which teemed with waves that occasionally broke into white peaks before fading away. The moon dimmed the stars, but the strongest still sparkled noticeably, and I breathed deeply, appreciating the beauty of it. I had seen these sights dozens of times before, but apparently, distance and time did make the heart grow fonder, or at least let you appreciate what you’d once taken for granted.
The peace was interrupted by a sudden flash of light that bathed the road, and I jerked, almost losing control of the bike. Blue and red flashed, and I heard the burst of a siren as I glanced over my shoulder to see a cruiser pull out from a hidden spot on the side of the road.
"Damn," I hissed, annoyed that there was even a cop out there at that time. The last thing I needed was the hassle of the cops when I wasn't even supposed to be there. There was the ever-so-slight chance that the copsmightstill remember me, though it wasn't guaranteed. There were plenty of cops in the city, so running into one out here, instead of my old stomping grounds, wasn't likely. And, well, it had been years since I'd last gotten into trouble with the law.
Yet, I found my hand twisting the throttle all the same as I heard a voice from the speaker. For a moment, I thought there was something oddly familiar about that voice, causing an uncomfortable twist in my stomach. It wasn't enough to stop me, however, and I gunned the engine, ignoring the angry shout as my bike roared forward. It was stupid, one of the stupidest things I'd done in a while, and I spared a thought that perhaps coming back to Cresson Point was just reigniting old bad habits because I did not feel like a man in his thirties at that moment, but a sixteen-year-old with too much energy to burn and too little sense to keep me in check.
That thought didn't stop me, however, and the bike lurched forward with another roar. I whipped ahead, trusting that the upcoming twists, turns, and some of the branching roads would give me an advantage. Before the new development, I might have taken the shifting roads with a little more caution, but now, with a cop hot on my heels, I had to take the chance of going through the obstacle course at great speed and all the danger that came with it.
Everything but the road became a blur as I apparently decided to test what my bike was made of, as well as myself. If I ever needed to keep my head in the game, it was right then. I knew full well as I came to the real challenge of the road that the slightest mistake wouldn't see me in jail but in the ER...or the morgue.
That threat to life and limb would be the perfect excuse for any normal person to be acutely aware of every movement to the point that a mistake was inevitable. But I had never been like other people when it came to danger, even danger to my life, and the threat to my wellbeing is precisely what brought every ounce of my attention to bear.
The world and all its problems washed away, disintegrating and left in the wind that rushed around me as I hit the highest speed I dared. It was a lot like moments before when I’d felt a gentler wind against me as the moon shone overhead. That had been peaceful for the sake of peace. This was peaceful because all stress and fear were wiped away, leaving only the thrill of the danger that roared as loudly as the wind and my bike.
The cruiser was doing its best to keep up, but my bike was faster and more maneuverable, and I would bet I was far more daring than he would ever be. A laugh escaped me, choking in my throat when I saw that the lights were not getting any dimmer. Sure enough, I saw the headlights of the cruiser lighting up the road in front of me, and I had to wonder just what kind of insane moron was behind the wheel if they were willing to keep up with an insane moron like me.
"Alright, let's go then," I said with a laugh, and despite knowing better, I opened the throttle even further and threw up a dare to the universe to see if maybe it might decide to finish me off.
Later, I wouldn't remember the exact details of the 'race' I’d started; my attention was locked on keeping my bike on the road and making sure the cop stayed a respectable distance behind me. It was all a blur of last-minute choices and reflexes that came from almost two decades of riding a bike and taking risks.
Most of the fun came from the danger, but I wasalsoamused that the cop kept up with me. Even as I bobbed and weaved around the tight twists of the road, the stubborn bastard stayedclose. Not close enough to make me worry that he was going to catch up, but he...or she, for that matter, was definitely doing a damn good job of staying hot on my heels. Most cops would have pulled off by now and let me go, concerned that either of us, or some other random person, would get hurt.
That last thought was the one that finally sank through the surging storm of excitement and adrenaline pounding through me. Yet, slowing down would mean getting caught, and Ireallydidn't want my family to have to bail me out of jail. God, especially my sister, my twin would never let me know a moment's peace if she had to be the one to roll up and pull me out of a jail cell because I decided to try to outrun a cop.
So, it was time to do better than just try. Which worked out nicely because I’d driven these roads many times as a teenager when I wasn't technically allowed behind the wheel... but no one else needed to know that. Of course, it'd been a while since I'd taken that route, so my idea might not be feasible. In fact, it could actually get me killed, but what was life without a healthy dose of risk thrown on top?
I waited until I saw the landmarks that would tell me what I needed. There were a couple of billboards along the way, but it was the one opposite a large rock formation, taller than the trees and resembling a squirrel, that I needed. Of course, I couldn’t see much in terms of the shape of the rocks going at that speed, but when I saw a billboard with a tall pile of rocks on the other side of the road, I knew I'd found what I was looking for.
Sucking in a breath, I dialed back my speed, letting the cop catch up a little as the turn came. I knew what I needed to do and hoped I had the skill to pull it off; otherwise, I was going to crash into nothing but trees. Thankfully, the cop did catch up, slowing down as we approached, and I whipped around the next turn, fingers steadying on the brake.
Bracing myself, I held tight and hit the brakes, twisting both handles and shoving my body into the bike to take the turn. Screeching tires behind me told me the cop was frantically braking and hoping to stop before slamming into me and knocking me off the nearby cliff. As I slid to an almost complete halt in exactly the spot I wanted, the headlights of my bike washed over the line of trees, and my heart gave a heavy thump of pleasure when I saw the opening behind the billboard.
It was more overgrown than the last time I'd paid attention to it, but apparently, motorbikers still liked to use the paths in the woods separating the road from Cresson Point proper. My bike wasn't made for off-roading, but unless the landscape had changed radically, I would probably make it just fine.
Or at least, that was the only hope I had left.
Glancing to make sure the cop car was stopping, which it was, albeit with a lot of back-end swerving as they fought to get control, I grinned at them even though my helmet concealed it. I almost wished I could see their face as I gunned the engine again and rocketed toward the path. Flying forward, the bike soared over a gap before hitting the ground.
A branch smacked my helmet, and I ducked, a little disoriented but staying steady as I kept the engine going. I could have sworn I heard cursing from behind me, but the idea of the cop using the bullhorn on the cruiser to curse me out was just too funny. All I had to do from that point was follow the path’s twists and turns. I was definitely going to need to get my bike looked at, as it was taking quite a beating from the rough path, but it was still managing.
After a few minutes, I burst onto another road and came to a stop, twisting to see if there was anyone around. It was a small two-lane road with no sign of another living thing as I sat there with only the sound of the engine idling in my ear.
My chuckle died when I saw lights flash from the road ahead of me, and I cursed. "Someone is persistent."
My only choice was to follow the path on the other side of the road and hope it wasn't in a worse state than the one I’d just come off. With a growl, I gunned it forward as the siren whooped at me, lights flashing again as the cop caught sight of me.
