Mana Pool Snippets - The Days After

One

Temecula, CA

December 24, 2012

10:07 AM

Crog. Not again.

Jaruka Teal swerved off the road, managing to avoid two human corpses and a few Wave crystals on his head-long collision into the bush laden riverbed on his Howler Cycle. He could have attempted to not let his bike crash onto its side into the muddy bank, but caring for the body paint was beyond him.

Two hours. It had only been two annoying hours on Terra Firma and he had almost run into human authorities. Again.

He cut the engine and ducked under the bushes. Several police cars with screaming sirens that irritated the mercenary's hearing sped down the road toward town, one after another. Jaruka was fortunate enough to have spotted them earlier when they drove behind a small hill. What with the new terran transformations, crumbling society and governments, and zombie corpses littering a department store's parking lot they had much bigger priorities than a dreadlocked islander riding a wide-wheeled motorcycle from another world.

Jaruka stood up once the cops were gone, and then spat at the ground. He happened to peer at a male human corpse on the side of the road. Though there were scuff marks on his clothes the outward head burst and dried blood was not from a hit and run incident. There were more zombie corpses up and down the road with the same head injury, thousands dead with no evidence of why or how, just speculation. Corpses littered towns, cities, and the country's capitol. Jaruka shuddered remembering the event and Groom Lake, Griffon....

Jaruka had no time to remember that painful moment. Who would? Getting to safety was all that mattered, and getting drunk enough to forget hopefully.

He picked up and revved the Howler Cycle's fusion engine on. Jaruka remounted the cycle and rolled onto the road and just as he did, a sheriff's car drove passed him.

The deputy looked at Jaruka, and Jaruka looked back.

"Crog." Jaruka opened the throttle and raced off.

Officer Charles was following his fellow officers when he came across the strange, wicked-built motorcycle and its unknown rider. Curiosity got the better of him, just as it had with all of the events since the Wave. The tires kicked up smoke as Charles turned the car around and gunned the gas. He reached for the mic on the dashboard as the car sped in pursuit.

"This is 572. Officer in pursuit. Suspect is on an unknown vehicle going over sixty on Glen Oaks Road heading east."

He was nowhere close to understanding magic. The events of the pre-Wave, post-Wave, and then the sudden onset of zombies that nearly turned Temecula into a blood-stained ghost town were weighing down on Charles' otherwise rational mind. Aliens had destroyed Area 51 and a Gray had apologized on the morning news. What scared him the most were the daily mutations of humans that had come without warning. It seemed to be only a matter of time before his son or even his wife changed.

"Copy, 572. Charles, you were supposed to be with Anderson on the bank robbery on Rancho," the dispatcher said.

"The truck nearly clipped me, I had to catch up. I'll join her after this." The Ford Interceptor's engine was at full horsepower, but the unknown motorcycle was faster. Much faster.

The rider was at forty miles per hour as he turned the corner with ease and grace, losing no momentum.

"Son of a? Who made that thing? Shit!"

Charles slammed the brakes and turned the wheel left. His heart skipped several beats. He was grateful for the lockdown in effect, there were no civilians out and about to be put into danger. Dispatch repeated his orders, but Charles was focused now on the motorcyclist, certain that he had the answers to his questions. As Charles ended the turn, he surveyed the road for the motorcyclist, but he was gone.