“Now, follow me and don’t make a sound,” Hatchet ordered. She grabbed the oversized shirt she’d been wearing earlier, followed by the shorts. Panic filled him like the roar of the engines that were getting progressively louder.
Shit. He’d hoped they would at least have had a night before Mad Dog found out about the safe house. Someone must have talked. He flinched as he thought about it. Mad Dog had several particularly unpleasant ways of making people spill their guts.
“Elsie, come on,” he hissed as she finished throwing on the clothes. “We have to get the fuck out of here.”
“Yeah, no shit!” Elsie replied just as softly.
They’d taken to whispering, even though Mad Dog and the rest of the gang weren’t quite there yet. But they were getting closer with every passing second. Hatchet guessed by the sound of the bikes that they had about a couple of minutes to get the hell out of Dodge before things got very, very bad for both of them.
“You don’t happen to have any shoes that would fit me, do you? Women’s size 6?” Elsie said, as she tugged the shirt over her head. He didn’t answer her, just grabbed her hand and dragged her towards the backyard.
“Listen, I’ve seen firsthand what Mad Dog does to people who cross him, and it is not pretty. If anything happens, if for any reason we get separated, you run like hell. Got it? Don’t stick around and wait for me. Just look after yourself,” Hatchet said.
The seriousness in Hatchet’s voice made Elsie stop and look up at him. “That’s not going to happen,” she said, just as serious. “We’re staying together.”
“Goddamn it, Elsie. Alright. Stay by my side, stay low, and don’t make a sound unless you absolutely have to.”
Those were his last words before he led her through the back door. He was slightly relieved by the fact that he’d had the foresight to hide his bike behind the shed. It was probably the only thing that would save their asses. What they were going to do after he got the bike was another story entirely.
Together, they snuck out the back and through the yard, and Hatchet muttered grateful thanks for the darkness that kept them hidden for the moment at least. But still, the roar of Mad Dog’s motorcycle and what sounded like several others of the Roadburners grew louder and louder. As he threw a quick look over his shoulder, Hatchet saw the headlights piercing through the tree line. Shit. They were almost there. The time to move was now.
It was probably only seconds, but it felt like an eternity before he and Elsie finally got to the shed where he’d stashed his motorcycle. As he handed her a helmet, he wracked his brain over what to do. There was only one road in and out of this place and, at the moment, it was full of bikers whose only goal was to hurt him and Elsie.
There was no way he was going to let them lay a finger on her.
“Come on,” Hatchet finally whispered. “And stay quiet.”
She rolled her eyes at his repeated command, but she hadn’t seen the things he had. She had no idea just how depraved Mad Dog could get.
He kicked up the stand and walked the bike as silently as he could, moving parallel with the road and praying that it would be too dark for the other riders to make them out. At the last moment, before Mad Dog and his crew made the final curve in the road that led up the house, Hatchet backed up until he and Elsie were mostly hidden by the trees and overgrown shrubs that grew along the shoulder.
He sent a warning look to Elsie and she returned that look, wide eyed and edged with fear. But she was braver than she realized. He could see it in her, in her actions. She didn’t hesitate even though she was so afraid that he could practically feel it coming off her in waves.
Hatchet motioned for her to wait and she nodded in understanding, crouching back even further into the underbrush. She was much more confident in him than he was, that was for sure. He didn’t even know if this was going to work. And, if it didn’t… well, it was better not to think about that.
The sound of the engines was almost on top of them now and Hatchet held his breath hoping against hope that they wouldn’t be spotted as Mad Dog’s chopper came into view. They were riding closer and closer to where they were hiding. It was too late to do anything but wait and pray.
For a second, it was as if he were back in the mountains of Afghanistan. He found it hard to breathe as he watched the group of bikers, fewer in number than he’d originally thought but still a sizable group. His hand flew to his side, muscle memory clawing for an M16A4 that wasn’t there. Instead, he found Elsie’s hand and her grip reminded him that this wasn’t Afghanistan anymore. She squeezed his hand hard until he was sure there was no almost circulation left in his fingers. But he didn’t pull away. He held onto her just as tightly.
Mad Dog’s crew was so close that Hatchet could feel the hot exhaust from their bikes as they rode past. Luckily, not a single biker looked anywhere but straight ahead, and he nearly collapsed when the last motorcycle drove past them without raising an alarm. They hadn’t seen them hiding there by the side of the road. They hadn’t even bothered to look. Sloppy sons of bitches.
He had to bite back a victory cry of his own as he quickly wheeled the bike onto the gravel road and hastened Elsie onto the back. He climbed on as fast as he could and risked one last look back before starting the engine. It was just as loud and attention-drawing as he was afraid it would be, but it was their only chance of getting out of there.
Hatchet slammed on the throttle and sent the bike flying forward as Elsie held on behind him. His skin crawled with the knowledge that someone was bound to be following him after the noise. But, as they got on the road without signs of pursuit, he began to relax a little. Maybe they had done it. Maybe they had actually gotten away without detection.
His relief was short-lived though, because a bare second later he heard it. A bone chilling cry from behind them. They knew he’d gotten away. They had heard him and they were coming for them.
“Shit. Shit. Shit!” Hatchet swore. “Hold on!”
He threw a quick look over his shoulder, praying that she’d heard, as he slammed the throttle again, pushing the bike to the edge of the machine’s limits.
But he could still hear Mad Dog and his gang of sycophants getting closer. Persistent motherfucker, doesn’t know when to give up.
Hatchet bent low over the bike, trying to maneuver the best the he could on the unforgiving gravel road, but at every turn the back wheel skidded out a little more and he could feel his control slipping. He had to slow down or he’d lose control of the bike and spin out. But if he slowed down, Mad Dog and the rest of the bikers would catch up to him.
It was a lose-lose, but there was no way he was going to let Elsie fall into Mad Dog’s hands. Not again. He’d made her a promise and he was going to keep it, no matter the consequences.
He threw another glance behind him and the bike nearly shot out from under them. He held it upright by sheer will, but the he knew that it didn’t matter how fast he was riding – Mad Dog would still catch up to him. The man was hot in pursuit and gaining fast.
With a string of curses, he reached into the pocket of his leather jacket and pulled out his cell phone. It was a last-ditch effort, but he prayed it would be enough to save Elsie. That’s all that really mattered to him anyways.
“Take it!” he shouted, passing the cell phone to Elsie, his eyes still focused like a laser on the perilous road ahead of them. He felt her fingers fumble against his as she grabbed the thing.
“Call the cops!” he yelled back at her. “Tell them where we are.”
“And where is that?”
“I-10 West, by the exit on Palmer!” He didn’t look back again. It took every ounce of his concentration to keep them both from going down. All the while he prayed that the cops would get there fast enough, for Elsie’s sake.
***
Her hands were shaking so badly that it took Elsie three tries before she could dial the emergency number.
“9-1-1. What’s your emergency?” a kind but clinical voice said from the other end of the line. Elsie cast a quick look behind them.
“I’m on I-10 West, by the exit on Palmer,” Elsie shouted the words into the phone, but the sound of the whipping wind and the roar of the motorcycle engines made it nearly impossible to hear.
“I’m sorry, Miss. What was that?” the operator said.
“I-10 West, by the exit on Palmer! I’m in trouble. I’m being chased. Please, send help right away. That’s I-10 West by the exit on Palmer! Please, hurry! Plea…”
Elsie cut off mid-sentence, her words turning to a terrified scream, as the motorcycle beneath her suddenly went horizontal and the whole world tilted dizzyingly with it. Nausea filled her as the back wheel spun hard and fast across the front, head over tail and around again. Her mind froze on the image of Hatchet trying desperately to bring the machine back under control. It repeated over and over for the eternity it took them to finally hit the gravel road that they had spun out on – and they hit it hard.
Everything went fuzzy for a long moment, like she’d tuned to a channel without any reception. It was all grey and white, filling her vision. But as she blinked it slowly cleared and she could see that she had landed on the shoulder of the road near the bike. Hatchet! Where’s Hatchet?
With a cry of pain, she forced herself to her knees, mentally assessing the damage. Besides some massive scrapes and bruising, she was otherwise okay. It felt like she’d just gone toe to toe with an angry gorilla, but she was thankful that nothing was broken. Elsie leaned forward, pushing herself up to her feet. Her hand brushed something small and hard. It was Hatchet’s phone. She’d still been holding it when they’d gone down. She could only pray the operator had caught enough for the police to make it there in time.
Quickly, she pocketed the phone and began searching for Hatchet. She nearly cried out when she found him. He had been thrown at least ten feet from where his motorcycle had finally landed, a wheel still spinning.
She stumbled over towards him. “Hatchet! Hatchet, are you alright?” she cried as she dropped next to him on the road.
She didn’t even notice the pain of the rocks digging into her knees. All she could think about was him. His eyes were closed, and she leaned close, desperately searching for a pulse. She had just found it when another sound finally registered. Motorcycles.
She looked up just in time to see a line of six or seven bikers glaring at her and Mad Dog stalking towards her with a look of glee on his face. He grabbed her arm and pulled her painfully away.
“You stay right where you are,” he warned menacingly. “You’ve caused me enough trouble, bitch. You and him both.”
Mad Dog took another step towards Hatchet and Elsie shouted out in protest. But before she could move, another figure was rushing forward, putting himself in between Hatchet and Mad Dog.
“Jackrabbit,” Mad Dog snarled. “I thought you would have learned your lesson by now.”
“I guess I’ve just got a hard head. Takes a little bit longer to sink in,” Rabbit bit back, looking worse for the wear. But Elsie could only focus on Hatchet and on figuring out a way to get to him and then getting them the hell away.
“Get out of my way, Jack.”
“Not going to happen, Prez.”
“Don’t make me…” Mad Dog stopped mid-sentence and Elsie finally heard why. Sirens. The sound of sirens filled the air and they were getting closer. A second later, three squad cars pulled in to view and there was a scurry as Mad Dog and the rest of the bikers fled. All but Jackrabbit, who was kneeling by his friend. Elsie wasted no time in rushing forward and joining him.
“Hatchet. Hatchet, can you hear me, buddy?” Jackrabbit yelled. He shared a worried look with Elsie as the cops slowed to a stop a few yards away. But then Elsie saw it: movement behind Hatchet’s eyelids. A moment later, he was blinking them open and looking up at her.
It was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.
“Hatchet!” Elsie cried, kissing him as gently as she could before pulling back. “Hatchet, it’s going to be okay. I promise.”
“Put your hands up! Slowly! Do what I say or we will shoot!” the familiar voice of Sheriff Donohue rang out over the speaker from the police car.
Slowly, one by one, they complied. Elsie let out another sigh of relief as Hatchet made his way to his feet, slowly. But he seemed okay now that he was conscious.
“Stop moving! Keep your hands where I can see them.” There were cops walking towards them now, cuffing both Jackrabbit and Hatchet, and Elsie nearly flinched as the sheriff, her best friend’s father, walked up and asked her to turn around. He started when he saw her face, recognition filling his eyes.
“Elsie? What the hell are you doing here?”