Where next? she thought. From place to place, country to country; crisis to crisis and adventure beyond adventure. The road stretched ever on and its beauty was that it immersed you in all the various pit-stops along the way, engaging you in a constantly moving picture of diverse life.
The next horizon was always only a day away.
Alicia quelled her wanderlust for the time being and exited the hotel room. The team met with Wrench and Red Head, and looked over the other two bikes they’d managed to rent from occupants of the diner. One was a passable Harley, the other a Honda, nicely outfitted but hardly a biker’s bike. Lex stared at it with disdain.
“Shit.”
“Roll with it,” Alicia said. “We’ll think of something.”
She straddled the Harley, blipping the throttle to get a feel for the bike. When Crouch and the rest of the team were ready she peeled out after them, making sure Wrench, Red Head and Lex were ahead of her. The mountains came quick and soon they were roaring along the narrow roads, leaning into the corners and letting the engine roar down the straights. High cliff faces echoed with the monsters’ roar, replicating and throwing it back at them in a respectful, spirited way. For a few miles there was nothing but the road and the darkening skies, the black ribbon ahead and the feel of the other bikes and their riders, all accomplished, chasing the end of the day until the next dawn.
Then Crouch sent out a warning call through their comms. Alicia, feeling a little self-conscious, slowed immediately and helped rein the rest in. By the time the bikers were under control Crouch had called a halt for a final interchange.
“Good luck in there,” he said in closing. “As soon as you have their attention we’ll breach as near the map’s coordinates as we can.”
“Coordinates?” Alicia laughed. “Really?”
“Well, they’re as good as coordinates,” Crouch said a little huffily and turned away. Despite her words Alicia had complete faith in their boss and trusted him to find whatever was out there.
If anything.
As the treasure team melted away, the biker team took a last moment to remember their stories.
“Hang on tight, boys. This is gonna be a tester.” Alicia wasted no time in roaring toward the militia’s only gate. Lex followed immediately with Wrench and Red Head bringing up the rear. Red Head muttered something about this not being such a clever idea after all through the comms. Alicia promised to keep him safe. That galvanized the man’s masculine pride a little, prompting a spurt of speed.
Alicia stopped outside the gate, Red Head at her side. Lex squeezed past them both, the supposed leader of their little gang. With his Honda mostly hidden by Alicia’s Harley he leaned forward in the saddle and stared up into the CCTV camera, making a speech sign with his right hand.
“Now we wait.”
Not for long. The militia, on sensing any kind of potential threat, were always quick to mobilize. A high-sided, canvas-backed vehicle squealed dangerously around the square, loaded with men, and bounced down the rough trail toward the gate. Faces peered at them from every vantage point. Behind the truck came a small jeep. Both vehicles squealed to a stop near the gate, dust swirling from their tires.
A man bellowed at them from the bed of the jeep. “You’re on private property! Turn around and keep going!”
Lex kept his voice calm. “We’re just like you, brother. Looking for a night’s sleep, a few drinks, maybe a party.” He grinned.
“This ain’t a fucking rave. Turn the hell around.”
The man’s words were contradicted by at least three-quarters of the men leaning out of the truck, most with a gun in one hand and a beer in the other.
Alicia shifted, drawing their attention. “We’d be grateful.”
The shouter jumped down from the bed of the jeep. As he drew closer Alicia got her first good look at him. Unshaven, with hair down to his shoulders and wearing an open jacket that even looked like it reeked, he leveled a rifle at them.
“What you want with us?”
“Like I said,” Lex waved it away, “a place to sleep for the night. The chance to swop a few stories. We been on the road a while.”
“Not much of a gang,” the man sneered.
“We’re all that’s left,” Lex said truthfully. “Used to be over twenty Slayers. Got hit in Germany.”
This made a few of the men jump down and walk forward, interested. Their leader lowered his weapon. “Got hit you say. You take any of them fuckers with you?”
Lex nodded quickly. Alicia saw from the way he held himself that he was still mourning his true brothers. This gang may be a façade in itself but its back story was a very real, very dreadful truth.
“We got no quarrel with bikers,” one man said. “C’mon, Pitts. Let ‘em ride in.”
Pitts stared at them a while longer. He searched the darkness behind them. Eventually, mostly giving in to his own men’s wishes, he ordered the gates to be unlocked. “But watch ‘em,” he said. “And search ‘em. No weapons, cellphones, or any of that new-fangled crap. This is our land. Our rules. You got me?”
Lex held up his hands. “We’re just here to drink.”
The bikers rode through, following the truck and the jeep back toward the square and the blazing trash cans. Once there the gang dismounted and allowed the militia men to inspect their bikes. Following Pitts’ instructions they attempted to search the bikers. A few knives were found on Red Head, a baton on Wrench. Alicia subjected herself to a general pat down but when one of the guys ventured a little too close for comfort she spoke out.
“That hand gets any closer to that right cheek I’m gonna rip it off.”
They backed away. One of the men, a scarred, wild-eyed youngster with a swagger and a bellyful of bravado stepped up. “Your fuckin’ jackets don’t match.”
Lex showed them his own, embroidered with his colors and the Slayers’ logo. “Alicia here lost hers in the fight. Red Head and Wrench were new to the crew, just joined from the… ” he looked around at them, eyes asking a very important and overlooked question.
“Iron Horsemen,” Wrench said without batting an eye.
Alicia stepped forward. “You gonna show us around then boys, or what? Hey, that’s a nice big gun. Can I touch it?”
A shout stopped her. Pitts was approaching. “Just keep ‘em in the goddamn square and keep your guns to yourselves. I don’t mind helping out a like-minded fellow but I’ll be damned if they’re touching my guns.”
Alicia held out her hand for a beer. “I’ll take some of that then.”
The militia men grinned and beckoned for her to follow then into the square, toward a blazing trashcan that seemed to symbolize their epicenter. Lex and the hired bikers followed. Alicia downed the beer in one huge gulp, gaining even more attention and caught another in midair.
Lex joined her. “Down in one?”
“Is there any other way?”
Crouch led the remainder of the team to the east, following the outer perimeter of the fence until he found the best entry point. Wearing dark clothes, flak jackets and infrared goggles they were well equipped for stalking the night, but the difference between being able to see through the darkness and search for treasure in it was vast. The team were expecting the search to test all of their abilities.
Crouch knew the maps and notes by heart. He had read them a thousand times. Still, he treble-checked their starting point, traveling around the plateau above the Fiery Furnace to locate the exact landmark from which to start. He took his time. Healey and Russo snipped the fence, letting everyone through, then secured it afterward with metal ties. They left as little to chance as possible. Crouch waited, kneeling in the dirt.