by Cheree Alsop
Uzi met his eyes. “I don’t think we do.”
Things were quickly spiraling out of control. We were out of sight of the deputy, but enough noise would probably draw his attention.
“I’m outta here,” I said. I attempted to push past Uzi, but he and Colt grabbed my shoulders.
“No, you don’t,” Colt said. He had painted his Mohawk blue instead of the usual red. I wondered if it was his attempt to show his separation from his old gang. Snipe, the girl who used to have green hair, had done the same. The three of them glared at me. “You’re always getting in the way.”
“You have no idea,” I muttered under my breath.
“What was that?” Uzi demanded.
When I didn’t answer, he punched me in the stomach.
I could have avoided the blow; it wouldn’t have taken more than a sidestep. I would have caught his fist and punched him under the ribs, then followed it with a jab to the stomach and a haymaker to the jaw. In less than a minute, Uzi would have been sprawled on the hallway floor, but that would have blown my cover.
Instead, I breathed with the blow, lessening the impact as I doubled over in what wasn’t completely mock pain. I saw him shift his feet and knew he intended to elbow me in the head. I dropped to my knees before he could do it and head-butted him in the groin. It wasn’t one of my usual moves, but it was effective and looked like an accident.
Uzi fell to the floor in much the same way I had imagined. Colt and Snipe stared at him in shock. I stumbled back to my feet. “Sorry about that,” I said. I pushed through the crowd and made it to my next classroom. I was the first one in there because everyone who should have been seated was out in the hallway. I stretched and felt the slight pain in my stomach ease.
“That was smooth. I used to think those things were by accident.”
I looked up to see Magnum standing in the doorway. “You’ve given me lots of practice.”
He rolled his eyes. “Thanks, anyway.”
“Forget about them,” I recommended. “Concentrate on the game. They don’t matter.”
He nodded. “That cop from the back door showed up and scattered everyone anyway. It might give us a few days.”
“We might need to brush up on your fighting skills. What do you say we meet at the junkyard tonight after the game?”
He looked relieved. “I’ll be there. If we win, there’ll be a party, but I can meet you after that.”
“When we win,” I said.
He grinned and nodded. “When we win.” He glanced down the hall. “I’d better go.”
I ignored the looks of pity from my classmates who filed in just before the bell rang. Even the teacher gave me the compassionate smile one reserved for a victim. I sank further in my chair and tried to concentrate on statistics, but found myself imagining how I would have preferred the fight to go instead.
FAKING SICK TO GET out of going to the game wasn’t an option this time. When I showed up at the game as the Black Rider, they would just be upset, so I had to let them know.
“You’re sure it’s a good idea?” Mom asked.
“I made a promise,” I said. “I’ll leave right afterwards.”
“It could be dangerous,” Aunt Lauren said.
Uncle Rick shrugged. “It might be good for the team to know the Black Rider supports them.”
Aunt Lauren and Mom stared at him. He set his nice black going-out cowboy hat on his head and straightened his tie. Football games and church were the only occasions Uncle Rick dressed up, and he wore the same clothes to both. Aunt Lauren wore a yellow and black Bulldogs sweatshirt that enunciated her growing belly, while Mom settled for a yellow Tee-shirt from her last job in California.
She smoothed the shirt in an effort to get out the wrinkles from being packed. “I don’t understand why the Black Rider has to show up to a football game. It just doesn’t make sense to me. What if the FBI is there?”
“It’s a fast motorcycle,” I said, trying to make her smile.
She shook her head. “Not if they shoot out your tires.”
“That’d be cool!” Cole piped in.
“They don’t do that,” Uncle Rick said calmly. “It’d put too many people in danger. Let him have his time in the sun. He’s earned it.”
The way Uncle Rick put it made me second-guess my decision. I wasn’t thinking of the glory; I was just doing it because I promised Martin and I owed him one. I wondered how the rest of the school would see it. “I’ll stay,” I said quietly.
A spark flashed in Uncle Rick’s eyes that I had never seen before. He crossed to me and said in a low voice, “Son, you’ve put your life on the line for this town more than once and given the folks here exactly what they needed—a hero. You go to the game and get your picture taken. It’s important to you, and it’s important to the town. Be proud of what you’ve done, and let Sparrow know you’re still here for her.”
My heart clenched even as warmth spread through me at his words. I glanced at Mom. She threw up her arms with a sigh. “Rick’s right. You’ve handled things just fine without me interfering. I shouldn’t start now.”
On impulse, I hugged her. “Thanks, Mom,” I said even though we both knew she was worried.
“Just take care of yourself.” She hugged me back. “I’m proud of you and I know you deserve it. I just want you to be safe.”
“I will,” I promised.
A surge of anticipation flooded my limbs as I watched them drive away. I drove the four-wheeler to Jagger’s and traded it for my new CBR. Mick barked at me from the back porch, but Jagger was nowhere to be seen.
“Protect the junk,” I told the dog. He snapped at a fly and his teeth gave a tiny click when they closed on air. “Exactly,” I said with a laugh. I started the engine and felt the excitement that filled me roll into a steady thrum with the growl of the motor. I pulled out of the junkyard and headed to the game.
IT WAS IMMEDIATELY APPARENT that Martin had let it leak that I would be at the game. A huge crowd stood in front of the small football stadium. Most of the town was there because in Sparrow, football was a religion; you had better have a good reason if you missed a game, and then everyone would fill you in with enough highlights, it felt as if you had been there.
The crowd shouted and cheered when I drove through the parking lot and along the sidewalk to where Martin waited by the ticket booth. I wondered if every stand inside the stadium was empty. The clapping grew louder when I turned off the engine. I spotted Cassidy standing with Sandy and several of their other friends near one side. She gave me a wave with an ironic smile. I lifted a hand in return. The cheer that followed was deafening.
I leaned over to Martin. “A little much, don’t you think?” I shouted.
“I’m just glad you kept your promise. I almost had a mutiny,” he yelled back. He motioned to a photographer with a camera bearing a lens as long as the CBR’s muffler. I recognized him from his picture at the back of the Bulldog Bulletin. He wore a yellow baseball hat backwards and clicked away with the camera as though I were a runway model. I should have come up with some more poses. The thought made me grin wryly inside the helmet.
The audience drew closer as students attempted to get in the picture. “Why is everyone out here?” I asked Martin. “The game should have started.”
He shook his head. “Apparently Magnum hasn’t shown up yet.” He rolled his eyes. “That’s what happens when you put the leader of the Bullets in as starting quarterback.”
My stomach twisted. “They don’t hold a game for the quarterback; where’s the backup?”
“They’re refusing to play until he shows up.”
That had me concerned. “They’ll throw the game.”
He nodded. “Too much riding on one person, I’d say.”
I barely heard him as I searched the crowd quickly for anyone I could ask for information. Thompson’s shaved head stood out above the students, parents, and teachers. He looked relieved to see me and was heading through the audienc
e with two other members of the Bullets. I climbed off the motorcycle and the crowd moved out of my way. I closed the distance between us.
“What’s going on?” I asked quietly.
Thompson bent his head in an effort to ensure only I heard. “Magnum was taken by the Verdos. They jumped him after school.”
I gritted my teeth. “How do you know?”
Behind us, members of the crowd began taking pictures with my motorcycle. The photographer clicked away, happy to have willing subjects.
“They called me and said to tell you they’d be calling, so to keep your phone handy.”
I swore quietly. The Verdos wouldn’t play around. Magnum was in real danger. I put a hand over the rectangular form of the cell phone in my jacket and felt my heart hammering underneath.
“You’ve got to get him away from them,” Pistol, a short, scrawny member of the Bullets said.
“I will,” I promised.
I let out a breath and made my way back to the motorcycle and Martin standing proudly beside it.
“Something came up,” I told him. “I’ve gotta go.”
His eyebrows drew together. “Does this have anything to do with Magnum’s absence?”
I hesitated, then nodded. At least they would know somebody was trying to help.
He stepped back from the motorcycle and motioned for the crowd to clear away. “Be careful,” he called over his shoulder.
I waved at the audience and revved the engine. People cleared the sidewalk. I caught Mom’s worried look from where the Ashbys waited. I hoped I could keep my promise to her that I would be safe. I sped across the parking lot searching for a place to wait for the phone call.
I PARKED THE MOTORCYCLE behind a billboard near the fairgrounds and tried to wait patiently. Ironically, it was the same sign I had hidden my bike behind during the gang’s first attack at the livestock building. Tall grass baked brown by the persistent sun brushed against the tattered billboard that proclaimed, “Sparrow Fairgrounds.” It had a picture of a girl with blonde pigtails leading a big Holstein cow. The picture was faded and wood showed through in several places as though it had been many years since anyone touched it up.
The phone rang and I pulled off my helmet to answer it. My heart thundered in my chest.
“Hello?”
“The elusive Black Rider.” The voice chuckled without humor. “We have a friend of yours.”
I glared at nothing in particular. “Let him go.”
“We will, for the right price,” he said.
“Name it.”
“You.”
My blood ran cold at his tone. He was silent for a minute, then said, “Did you hear me? We will trade the Bullet leader for the Black Rider.” A dangerous tone entered his voice. “But if you don’t come alone, we’ll put a bullet through his head. If you don’t show up, we’ll make sure he suffers before he dies. After all you put us through, it’s the least we could do.”
I had no doubt he would follow through with the threat. I kept my voice carefully calm. “How do I know he’s still alive?”
“Talk to him yourself,” the man said.
There was a fumbling sound, then, “Kelson, don’t you dare try to rescue me. It’s not worth—”
A sharp crack sounded, followed by a cry of pain.
Magnum never would have used my real name if he wasn’t in a horrible situation. My heart pounded in my chest. I heard the leader take the phone back. “Where do I find you?”
He gave a few directions, then hung up before I could say anything else. I stared at the phone in my hand, hearing Magnum’s cry of pain again and again. He was tough. I had never heard him make such a sound before. My stomach twisted and I felt sick. I rose and was about to climb back on the motorcycle when the phone rang again.
“What?” I demanded without looking at the caller ID.
“Kelson?”
Relief filled me at the sound of Madelyn’s voice. I closed my eyes and leaned against the motorcycle. “Maddy.”
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
I rubbed my eyes. “It’s bad. Really bad.”
“Tell me what’s going on.”
I quickly repeated everything that happened. The Verdos had given me until sundown. A plan formed in my mind as I spoke to Madelyn.
“Promise me you’ll call Sheriff Bowley,” she said.
It sounded like she was close to tears. “I will.”
“Really, Kelson? You can’t do this alone. It’s too dangerous.”
“I know,” I replied. I looked up at the sky. “I’ve got to go.”
“I don’t want you to.”
“I’ll call the sheriff,” I promised. “I’ll be as careful as I can.”
I heard her breathe out quietly. “Call me as soon as you get back. Please take care of yourself.”
A lump formed in my throat at her words. “I will,” I promised.
I hung up and slid the phone in my jacket, then jumped on the motorcycle. I broke the speed limit by double on my way to the junkyard. I wasn’t about to meet the Verdos empty-handed.
“I’M STILL NA’ SURE ‘bout this,” Jagger said.
I wrapped Magnum’s black jacket around a concussion grenade and packed it inside his helmet. Using the chin strap, I fastened the helmet carefully to the seat of the CBR. “Me neither,” I admitted. “But I’m out of time. If the address leads to an abandoned gas station like you said, they’re in the middle of nowhere and able to see me coming.”
“Ya promised Maddy.”
I tried to remember why I had told him that. I blew out a breath. “Fine. Just give me a head start before you call the sheriff. I don’t want to jeopardize Magnum.”
He nodded and checked one last thing on my vest before handing me my jacket to wear over it. “Watch the bumps.”
I gave him a grim smile as I slipped carefully into the jacket, then pulled on my helmet. “See you soon.”
“I hope so,” he replied.
He gave me a salute I returned before heading back to the road.
The hum of my tires on the pavement cleared my thoughts. The only thing that mattered was freeing Magnum. There was no certainty that he would even be alive when I got there. The threat in the Verdos’ voice was real. He wouldn’t hesitate to carve his hatred for me into Magnum’s skin.
The sun slowly met the mountains as the gas station grew larger. It was in the middle of nowhere, a good business venture gone to pot when the bottom fell out of the economy and people stopped traveling down the lonely road. As I neared, a tumbleweed blew past the two dusty pumps. The gas station’s windows had been boarded up, and the door to the car-repair side of the station was propped halfway open by a rock. Four cars sat at the rear of the station—two beefed-up Camaros, a red Corvette, and a Shelby Mustang with the top down. I hoped a windstorm filled it with dust.
I circled the gas station once and found a place near the main door that stood in a conspicuous circle of moonlight. I quickly unbuckled Magnum’s helmet and left it on the ground. I wasn’t sure what I would find inside the gas station. I could only hope Magnum was safe.
I ducked my head and drove the motorcycle straight through the sliding door that once let cars in to be repaired. The crooked metal gave way with a loud crash. I braked to a halt in the middle of the repair shop and met the stunned gazes of the Verdos members.
“Now that’s an entrance I’d expect from the Black Rider,” said a man whose voice matched the person on the phone.
I studied him carefully. He wore a green bandana around his head. Dreadlocked black hair stuck out from beneath it. A scar circled his neck as though someone had tried to cut his throat, and instead of hiding it, he enunciated it with a thick black tattoo that looked like a chain.
My gaze drifted from him to the men who were getting over their shock and toying with various weapons. Four men stood to the right of their leader, and five to the left. Ten armed men total. It was more than I had ever taken on alone. Each wore a green band
ana either on the head or around a limb. Two clubs, three pistols, a shotgun, a chain, and three knives made up their visible arsenal.
Behind them, Magnum was handcuffed to a chair. One of his eyes was bruised and his lip was split; blood trickled down to stain the yellow and black jersey he had worn to school in preparation for the game. He shook his head, his face pale. “Kelson, get out of here!” he said in a voice weaker than I was used to hearing.
“Let him go,” I growled.
The leader leveled a pistol at my chest. “What’s to keep me from just shooting you both?”
“Besides your word?” I asked wryly. At his smug smile, I unzipped my jacket and let it fall from my shoulders to the floor. Several gasps sounded as the Verdos took in the array of grenades Jagger had helped me strap to the vest. “One shot, and this place will become a giant hole in the ground.”
Magnum looked like he was ready to cry. I had never seen the Bullet leader at such a loss. He hung his head as though ashamed I had gone to such an extent to try to save him. I hoped it wasn’t in vain.
The Verdos leader lifted his gun to my helmet. “I’ll bet that’s not bulletproof.”
I shook my head slowly. “No, but there’s enough C-4 packed in here to leave pieces of us all tiny enough that even your mother wouldn’t be able to identify you.” I held my breath and hoped they didn’t know C-4 wouldn’t explode with a gunshot, only a detonator, as Jagger had argued when I came up with the idea he quickly threw aside.
The leader lowered his gun slightly. “Then what do you propose?”
I climbed off the motorcycle carefully. “Let Magnum leave and I’ll take off the vest.”
“No!” Magnum protested.
The leader’s eyes narrowed slightly. He looked behind him at Magnum, then motioned toward one of his men.
“I’m not leaving!” Magnum shouted. He struggled as the man unlocked his handcuffs. Two others grabbed him under the arms and pulled him toward the motorcycle. He kicked and tried to get away, but it was obvious he didn’t have the energy to put up a real fight.
I grabbed his shoulder and put my visor close to his face. “Listen to me,” I said in a tone I hoped left no room for argument. “Get on the bike and leave. I made a promise, and I’m keeping my word. The Black Rider’s life for yours.”
