Let's Keep it Short!

Ghost Riders In The Sky

"Come on, Ace." Marcus called. The gang leader pulled on his mask and jumped down into the newly created hole. The other robbers soon followed. Ace braced himself. He hated the sewers, but the plan had worked flawlessly so far. They had stolen nearly a million dollars without tripping even a single alarm. So far as bank jobs go, this was pretty much the best. Ace followed his mates down the hole.
Five minutes later, the gang was riding off into the desert night carrying eighty million dollars between them.
"I told you, man!" Marcus grinned, running a hand through the spikes of his punk-ass hairdo. "We're stinkin' rich!"
The others whooped in glee. Ace was busy imagining himself in a nice penthouse with a hot broad and a good beer.
Suddenly, a flash on the horizon startled them. They braked and shielded their eyes, trying to see what was happening. First all they heard were hooves. Many, many hooves. The very earth seemed to be shaking under them. Their hearts started racing, blind, nameless fear seeping into them. And then, they saw them.
Cattle. Giant coal-black cows, their horns curved into wicked points, their flaring nostrils spouting fire. Their eyes were like blazing embers. Hundreds, no thousands of hulking beasts the size of cars were stampeding down the highway, headed right for them.
The bikers started up their engines, frantically trying to get out of the way. The unholy herd still bore down on them like a huge black wave. The thieves who moments ago had been laughing, now rode as fast as they could, trying to escape the unstoppable. And then they saw the Riders.
They started out as shooting stars in their wing mirrors. Quickly, the images started getting closer. Ace had thought he knew terror when he saw the cattle. He was only beginning to learn the meaning of the word.
A gang of thirty riders on an assortment of vehicles. Horses galloping alongside motorcycles, cars racing what looked like speed boat. Even a few elephants were there in the mix. The rides, all of them, were covered in fiery glow. A burning streak like the tail of a comet followed each. But weirdest of all were the Riders themselves.
Some wore cowboy hats, others racing helmets. All of them had transparent skin that showed the bones underneath. A blazing fire seemed to be burning inside each of them. Their skeletal grins were lit up by their burning eyes, their heads seemingly on fire.
The bikers raced their engines as much as they could, but it wasn't enough. The cattle overtook them, stampeding over them. Ace felt iron hooves crush the bones in his arm as the cows ran him and his friends, crushing their bikes like paper. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a burning noose, appeared fastening around his neck. The fire wasn't hot, just slightly warm. But the pain was worse than burning. Ace wished and prayed that he might die. Through tearful eyes, he saw his friends burning, their skin changing. Marcus' spikes were now blazing points of flame. Their leather jackets covered now-transparent skin. Their faces were grinning, though Ace wasn't sure if it was really a grin or a grimace.
A strong force yanked him up, out from among his comrades and their bovine attackers. He felt himself rising in the air and turning until he faced the lead Rider.
A sombrero was pulled low over his skeletal face but it did nothing to hide the blazing fire underneath. The flaming cowboy looked at him with baleful eyes like burning embers.
"You're still young, kid." He growled in a voice like the grinding of rocks. "You still have time, unlike your friends."
As he watched, Ace's gang rose up to join them. Their crushed motorcycles fixed themselves and blazed with the same hellish light that now burned from within their riders.
"Listen, cowboy." The Rider said. His eyes drew Ace's with an irresistible force. "Change your ways or one day, you'll ride with us. Trying to catch the Devil's herd across these endless skies!"
The flames engulfed him and he remembered no more.
---x---x---
The next day Johnny, formerly known as Ace, sold his bike for scrap. He joined a night class at the community college and took a job waiting tables in his uncle's deli. He never rode again.