The Ride - Chapter 9 (this one's for George)

[OMR]

Glen slowly sat back on the bed trying to grasp the reality of the situation. How could a beautiful, loving wife suddenly disappear and leave no trace… and what in the hell did riding a stupid bike on a strange lighted trail have to do with it??? The answers didn’t come, only more confusion. Glen sat there for over an hour trying to put the pieces of the puzzle together. He now realized that what ever had happened to him as a child on the ranch in Utah was somehow connected to what had happened years ago when he lost Sandy to that black SUV. And that was connected to his riding down a lighted single track and having her come back into his life… and finally losing her again… all as a result of walking or riding down a strange lighted path… that didn’t seem to really exist.

Glen got stiffly up and padded down the stairs and into the kitchen. He opened the stainless steel refrigerator door and pulled out a cold IPA. Popping the top of, he took one long slow pull on the bitter brew and rubbed the chilled bottle against his forehead. There had to be a connection between all these events. He just didn’t see it. Where in the hell was that trail as it seemed to hold all the answers… and where in the hell was Sandy?

The shrill ringing of his cell phone on the kitchen counter cut the air like a knife. It startled him so much, he almost dropped the bottle. Quickly reaching out, he flipped it opened and said hello. The voice on the other end was George, one of the STR riders that was part of his “Tribe” of riders. George had been at the trail head when he had returned and had turned and stared at him with Chris and Steve as he sped away.

"Glen, what time do you want to be picked up tonight? We should be there around 11:30. That should give us enough time to be able to get in and out within 10 minutes before the police show up. I’ve already got a buyer lined up and we should be able to clear several thousand. Not bad for a few hours work! Chris has the truck ready and Steve will be able to disarm the alarm system without alerting the security service. We’ll be in and out before anybody knows what happened.”

Glen stood there speechless… not sure how to respond. Was this a joke? What the hell was George talking about? The George he knew was as honest as the day was long. Still thinking it was somehow a joke, Glen said, “11:30 is fine… uhhh, where is it that we’re talking about?”

There was silence on the cell phone for about a minute. George finally said, “What are you talking about? You were the one that initially scoped out this bike shop and told us they were ripe for the picking. All sorts of hi-end bikes just sitting there. Say, are you OK? You sure left the park in a hurry this morning… in fact, you didn’t even say hello. Where were you going so fast?”

Again Glen stood there stunned. Scoping out a bike shop? It sounded like George was talking about robbing the place… wherever it was. What the hell was going on? This wasn’t the George he knew… or was it.

Glen mumbled something about having to get home to meet Sandy for lunch. George asked, “Who is Sandy?” Glen almost said his wife but then quickly said a friend. He wasn’t quite sure he said that but somehow it seemed the right thing to do. George said, “I got to go, but I’ll be by to pick you up about 11…. Be ready and bring some heat.... just in case!” and the phone went dead before Glen could respond.

Heat? That could only mean one thing, a gun and that wasn’t good.

Glen spent the rest of the afternoon trying to reach Chris and Steve; but, they weren’t picking up. He left messages for both to call him back as soon as possible. Glen also finished searching through the entire house for some sign of Sandy, but there was none. Not one single piece, article, picture… nothing. It was as though she had never existed.

It was nearly 6 pm before he realized that he was viscously hungry. He rummaged through the cabinets and came up with some peanut butter and jam. He found some bread in the refrigerator, made the sandwich and wolfed it down in large bites, barely chewing. Another IPA chased that down. Somewhat full, he now turned his attention to thinking about what to do about tonight’s “activities”. He wasn’t about to take part in any kind of bike store robbery. It must be some elaborate hoax the guys were playing on him. Yeah, that was it. He’d just go along with the whole thing until it fell apart when they really didn’t do anything.

At 11 pm a horn sounded outside and Glen looked out the front window and saw George’s dark truck sitting in the driveway. Glen smiled, picked up the brown plastic flashlight with the compass in the handle and clipped it on his belt on his right side. It was covered by his coat and for all intent purposes it looked like he was packing heat.

Glen closed and locked the front door and walked slowly over to the truck, sure that Steve and Chris were hiding in the back seat… probably had been drinking their favorite brew and laughing at the joke they were pulling on their buddy, Glen. But there was no one in the back seat… only George sitting impatiently tapping his hand against the truck’s steering wheel. “Get in Slowboy… we’ve got places to go, bikes to liberate and beer to drink!”

That stopped Glen dead. Slowboy was what his dead/live wife use to call him. Glen opened the door and slid into the truck’s high seat. “Why’d you call me Slowboy, George?”

George looked at him for a long minute. His hand had stopped tapping on the wheel. “Cause that’s who you are… Slow boy…. Are you carrying heat?” Glen turned sideways so George could see the bulge of the flashlight. George grinned, threw the truck into gear and backed quickly out of the driveway. Glen held on as George roared down the deserted residential streets not saying anything until they were almost to the coast highway. Chris should have the truck parked on Forest Street. He’ll wait until we’ve gotten in and will bring the truck up to the back door and we can load the bikes and be out of there before the police have time to respond.

Glen began to now realize that George was deadly serious. They were planning on breaking into a bike shop and stealing bikes. But this just couldn’t be. The George he knew would never do anything like this… and George had said that Glen had scoped out the bike shop himself. Somehow he had been involved from the beginning. It was like there was someone else living his life.

Turning off his lights, George brought the truck silently to a stop in the back of Rainbow Cycles. A side street lamp provided a little bit of illumination. Glen could just make out a dark figure standing on a box and doing something to an electrical panel mounted on the back wall of the shop. George slipped out of the truck and motioned for Glen to follow. Not knowing what to do, Glen slipped out and quietly closed the truck’s door. Glen pulled his flashlight out and shown it on the dark figure. It was Steve and he had the box open and was using wire cutters to cut a bundle of red, white and black wires. Jumping down, he said, “It’s done. We’ve got 10 minutes before the police can respond. Get that door open!”

A crowbar suddenly appeared in George’s hands and it took him only a minute to pop open the back door. Another large truck had backed into the shop’s back parking lot. Glen stood there, not sure what to do. They were actually robbing this bike shop. Steve and George quickly appeared and started wheeling bikes up the back ramp of the truck into its dark depths.

“Glen”, Steve called out. “Get a move on, the cops will be here in 7 more minutes!”

Glen didn’t know what to do, laugh, shout, giggle…run! He just stood there with his trusty Boy Scout flashlight with the compass in the handle clutched in his hand while his riding buddies loaded bike after bike on the truck.

Chris slammed the truck’s back door, jumped in the cab, put the truck into gear and drove out of the parking lot. Steve and George had jumped into George’s truck and were hollering at him to come on. He stood there unable to move. George finally took off, driving over the curb as he fishtailed into the side street, almost hitting a car parked there. Where had that car come from? Glen thought. He didn’t remember seeing it there when they had first come in.

Suddenly it was very quiet… Glen could hear a dog barking in the distance, the lonely sound of a train whistle, the dry dead rustle of dried leaves moving oh so slightly….so quite you could hear the sound of a pistol being cocked. A voice rang out, “Freeze, asshole!” Glen spun around, dropping the brown Boy Scout flashlight with the compass in the handle. The night was rocked by a series of explosions.

Things were definitely not going well for Glen

[foofighter]

man this is good next chapter please.

[Red Hot Sloth]

That took an unexpected turn!

[OMR]

Originally Posted by Red Hot Sloth

That took an unexpected turn!

Hang on... you ain't seen nothing yet....

[xhuskr]

now we know why George is called the Godfather...he runs a Bike Mafia!

[OMR]

Originally Posted by xhuskr

now we know why George is called the Godfather...he runs a Bike Mafia!

Yeah... you got to watch those quiet ones....

[doulos]

Wow! Action Packed. This is getting really good.