The Ride - Chapter 18 Ol' Yellow Eyes

[OMR]

Luckily Glen hadn’t been going that fast when the tire blew and he was able to coast to a stop without any mishap. He heard the last of the air escaping as flipped the bike over and undid the quick release. The wheel came off easily. Quickly pulling off his backpack, he dug in the side pocket and pulled out a compact tire pump and a roll of duct tape. He didn’t have a tire patch. The duct tape would do in a pinch. He was able to pry the tire off the rim, pull the inter tube out and quickly located the hole. He use to be fairly quick at this over several seasons of mountain bike racing in another lifetime. He sat for a minute as memories of previous races flooded back in and then shook his head as if to clear them quickly away again. There was no time for remembering. That could come later…. yeah, later and he wondered if he would even see later.

Glen quickly stuffed the taped tube back into the tire, fitted it back onto the rim and pumped it up with short, fast strokes. It seemed to be holding. Remounting the wheel on the bike, Glen glanced down the canyon and saw that the pack of warriors was considerably closer now. Every once in a while he saw a flash from the group. Must be the sun reflecting off the knives, he thought. He realized that he was starting to lose any time advantage he had had. He needed to get moving and fast.

He could see the smoke starting to clear from the ant pit. The ants must be about all burned up… them and the warriors that had been chasing him, he thought. He felt the hot steel blade of the long knife against his leg. That wasn’t going to be enough to hold off the rest of them. He had to come up with something else. But so far, his mind was a blank.

It was while he was passing the skeleton remains of a dome like structure that he saw flashes coming from ahead of him. Glen realized that those flashes he had seen from the group below were reflections alright. They were somehow communicating with another group that was higher up the mountain and coming down towards him. They must have split the warriors into several groups. One to come up the old Blackstar Canyon route and one to come up an old fire road called Harding. He remembered the many times he had taken Harding up to Main Divide… or Pain Divide, as one of his old biking buddies had called it many lifetimes ago. It was a devious trap that had nearly taken Glen by surprise. He would have been chased right into the long knives of the warriors coming down Blackstar. He had to come up with something and fast.

By this time sweat was pouring down the side of his face. He was starting to feel lightheaded. He took another long pull on the water sack and noticed how much lighter it felt. This was not good. He couldn’t go up and he couldn’t go down…. He had to go sideways! Come on, Glen said to himself, you have to think out of the box. Then he remembered a little known trail called Smash Face which cut off the main fire road and came down the hill and ended up in Silverado Canyon at the post office/store… or what ever was there now. It was his only chance. But the trail head was further up the mountain towards the other group of warriors. Glen hated to keep going up but he knew he had no choice. It was that or stay around here and get probably get skinned alive. He really didn’t want to be a trophy skull on another warrior’s bike. That thought seemed to give his legs extra energy. He needed all the help he could get.

Another 30 minutes of hard riding brought him within sight of the turnoff to the Smash Face trailhead. He could see the remains of the iron towers atop the hill. He remembered that there was some kind of building up there that had housed some communications equipment. It was then that the thought occurred to him that maybe the trail didn’t exist anymore. That just couldn’t be! He thought. Stay positive… It will be there, he forced himself to think. He crested the hill and saw the old building still standing beneath the iron tower. Glen also saw two other things that grabbed his attention. Coming down the old road across a valley was the group of warriors. They were still at least a couple of miles a way. He could see the dust their bikes were kicking up. But that wasn’t what really concerned him. It was the huge dog cat like animal the size of a small horse with a mouthful of sharp teeth that had suddenly come around the side of the old building. That was what concerned him. Dog-kitty looked hungry.

The two looked at each other for what seemed to Glen to be an hour but in reality was only a minute or so. Glen noticed that the animal’s eyes were yellow… the same color as the eyes of the warrior he had killed. He found it hard to look away. They looked intelligent and measuring. The animal let out a low growl which broke the spell and Glen was able to pull out the long knife. He knew he didn’t stand a chance against this beast from hell… but he wasn’t going to go quietly. Glen dropped into a crouch behind the bike, trying to use it as a shield. The animal also dropped into a crouch. Glen could see the hair rise up on the muscular back and just as the animal started to spring towards Glen the group of warriors that had been chasing Glen up the canyon popped over the top of the hill hoping to surprise Glen. Glen didn’t know who was more surprised, him, dog-cat or the group of warriors.

The dog-cat was the first to react by changing direction in mid air. Instead of standing their ground as a group, the warriors made the tragic mistake of splitting into several smaller groups. Glen stood there rooted to the spot as the animal slashed and bit into each small group. The long knives didn’t seem to make any difference. All Glen could see were teeth and bloody bodies flying through the air. Within a matter of seconds there were 8 or nine bodies lying on the ground. The rest of the screaming warriors took off with the animal in hot pursuit. He could hear the blood curdling yells further down the road. Glen quickly jumped on his bike and pedaled over to where the trail had been in his mind. Yes, there was a faint scratch of a trail taking off down the crest of the ridgeline. Without a moment’s hesitation Glen took it. The screaming had stopped and Glen didn’t want to be around when dog kitty came back.

The trail shot down the side of the mountain. In normal times, Glen would have been walking… but this was not normal times. Behind him was a large mouthful of teeth just waiting to rip and shred … suddenly, the trail didn’t look so steep. He took the fast downhill line, barely touching the brakes. So this was how the down hillers do this. You just have to have big iron balls and ride like the beast from hell was chasing you… in Glen’s case it was!

Half way down Glen realized he was totally out of control but somehow he was still upright and still going down. Several times he launched off of rocks and stumps traveling 20 to 30 feet through the air. Yet, somehow he always managed to stay on the bike. He didn’t dare touch the brakes now. To do so would mean a total wipeout. He had to ride it out. Trees and bushes were a blur. In fact he could hardly see any trail now. Glen felt almost giddy and kept saying to himself, This is going to hurt… This is going to hurt!!!

The end of the wild ride was almost anticlimactic. The terrain had leveled off and he slowly brought the bike under control. He rolled to a stop just in front of a stream. He climbed shakily off the bike. Adrenalin was still pumping through his body. He looked back up the hill and could not see a trail at all. It sort of reminded him of the one and only other time he had done Smash Face. He couldn’t see the trail then either. Glen blew out a long breath. It was considerably cooler here under the trees. He sat down and pulled off the sweaty helmet and gloves. He noticed that his arms and legs had taken quite a beating from the bushes and long grasses on his fast journey down the hill. The lightheadedness was returning and he thought if he could just close his eyes for a minute, he’d be OK.

That was the last thing he remembered until he woke up in the dark and found himself staring into yellow eyes.

[foofighter]

I love when your creative juices are flowing...keep em coming Gregg, it gives me something to read whilst at the hospital.

[back of the pack]

I was afraid it would never rain again, though it wasn't much it was enough for Gregg to put out a couple great chapters.

[SAR_boats]

Yellow eyes.........Jaundice????

[Steven Jackson]

How man chaptors are thare?

[OMR]

Originally Posted by Steven Jackson

How man chaptors are thare?

Like life.... one never knows... but I fear we're quickly coming to the end of the ride