***
Dusk came as Frank rode Abigail home. They left Main Street and were moving along the gravel road which led to her house when the car came up behind them. At first Abigail thought nothing of it. Cars were supposed to use roads. Frank was running at a slow speed, eyes ahead on the treacherous gravel; his vision probably hindered by their helmets and the shadowed road. With the car on their tail, he slowed down, edging over to the shoulder on the left, expecting the car to pass. Traction wasn’t good and Abigail could feel the wheels slipping.
That’s when the vehicle speeded up and tapped the rear bumper of the motorcycle. The first tap was a light kiss and the second was a shove. Abigail grabbed Frank’s waist as the machine bucked or she would have turned and shook her fist at the car. It was a miracle they didn’t go down.
“What is that idiot doing!” Frank shouted as the Gold Wing swerved and he fought to keep it upright. They’d gotten back on an even keel when the third and final shove came. The car’s engine revved and its front fender hit them hard. The Gold Wing jumped into the air and flew about ten feet and went into a skid in the gravel alongside the road.
Frank held on, struggling to lay the motorcycle down without wrecking it or hurting them. He managed to barely hold on as they went down but Abigail wasn’t as lucky and was thrown from the bike into the air.
The car roared past them and sped off into the night.
“Abigail!” Frank yelled as he got up from the ground, bruised and shaken but otherwise unhurt, and turned to look for her, not seeing her right away.
“Here!” She let out a groan from the ground about fifteen feet behind him. “I’m back here.”
Frank stood the motorcycle upright and rammed the kickstand down. The machine was scratched, the rear fender slightly dented, but it was in one piece with both wheels still attached.
He ran to where she was sprawled in the gravel, holding her left arm and trying not to moan in pain.
“Are you okay?” He went down on his knees besides her and hovered, afraid to touch but wanting to comfort her in some way.
“No. I think I broke my arm. It really hurts.” She fought to keep the tears from falling. “I flew off the motorcycle and came down on it. I heard it snap. I probably need to go to the emergency room.”
“My cell phone is in my saddlebag. I’ll call 911 and get an ambulance. Don’t move or you might make it worse.” He made the call and returned to her side in minutes.
“They’re on their way from County General in Chalmers. It won’t be long. Oh, Abby, I’m so sorry. I feel responsible. I couldn’t get away from the guy. I can’t believe he actually struck us.” His distress was changing into anger.
“Did you see who it was or the make and model of the car?” she asked weakly. The pain was worse. She was dizzy and her stomach was rebelling at the same time she was fighting to stay conscious.
“Not really. The car came up behind us so quickly and stayed too close. Its headlights blinded me. After the car rammed us and drove away I only had time to notice it was a newer model light colored Chevy. The license plate was mudded out. No numbers or anything.
“Mason has a dark blue Camaro, so it couldn’t have been him.”
“I don’t have insurance,” she said.
“Don’t worry, I do, and it’ll pay for your hospital bill, no questions asked. Oh, Abby, I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay, Frank, it wasn’t your fault. It could have been worse if you hadn’t handled the bike as well as you did. We could both be here on the ground whimpering, or we both could be dead. Lucky you have insurance, unlucky I couldn’t keep my seat. I should have held on tighter, but it just happened too quickly.”
In the distance a siren increased in volume until it was ear splitting as Frank held her in his arms. They loaded her into the ambulance and Frank rode the bike, which still ran, behind it to the E.R.
Four hours later Frank brought her, left arm in a cast, home. He’d ridden the Gold Wing to the cabin and had returned to the hospital with his truck.
“I’ll try not to hit any bumps.”
“Thanks, but they gave me pain pills. I don’t feel anything. Speed. Get me home. All I want to do is sleep and forget this happened. I’ve never had a broken bone my whole life,” she muttered. It was dark outside. She could hear crickets chirping. No one had fed Snowball her supper.
“Then you’ve been fortunate. I’ve had plenty of broken bones and I know they can hurt like hell. Again…I’m so sorry.”
She waved her hand at him. “It’s not your fault. Just get me home.”
He pushed the gas pedal down as she leaned her head against the seat and shut her eyes.
“Do you think the same person who threw the rock and killed the birds this morning also slammed into us in that car?” she asked in a drowsy voice. The pain pills were really kicking in and everything had a dream quality about it.
“I don’t know. Possibly. It could have been someone else mad at you over the articles or mad at me for heaven knows what. I was a cop for a long time, you know.
“Or it could have been a totally random road rage incident which went too far. Some people don’t like motorcycles.”
Scraps of Paper Page 22
