Midnight Mayhem

Chapter 22

The bike rumbled heartily beneath me and I realised just how much I had missed riding. I had my reasons for stopping but boy was I glad to have my reasons for riding again.

We were back at the old race track, the one where Danny races every night that he can and the one where his dad was killed. The same race track that was almost my own personal cemetery.

I love racing, I always have but back in my hey-day I was a bit of an extremist, racing was my escape, my brief time away from time. I liked feeling nothig but wind on my back and I lived for the adoration of my fans.

I was a little extensive in my stunts. I tried everything at least once, even the stunts that would have had the best stunt bikers out there looking in awe with their jaws touching the ground.

Of course, that was all before my accident.

I still remember the night as if it were yesterday, the stunts go on during the midnight timed races normally and that night was no different. My bike rested comfortably between my thighs and I shifted in my seat, anxious to get started, to escape and feel like air.

I felt a lot more than I wanted to that night.

I had been doing great, my jumps were perfect and I had everything timed perfectly but the newbie that wanted to show off behind me didn't.

He lost his grip on his bike as he flew over a jump and rolled to a stop, a broken wrist his only injury. His bike nailed the jump, then it nailed me.

I vaguely remember a spec of black racing through the sky at me and I know I sped up but the trajectory was off. I had just managed to land one wheel on the ground and the other was probably a foot from the tarmac when out of nowhere Newbie's bike smashes into my one grounded tire.

I swear to you I never flew before that day. All I saw was a blur of trees and sky and then there was nothing. Everything was black but I could feel every bone in my body. When I came to I was in an ICU wrapped up in a full body cast with Daniel Mendez slumped in a chair across from my bed.

~~~~~

The revving of an engine pulled me out of my thoughts and I looked up to see Manny racing toward me.

"The last time I was at this track I was getting Danny to race, now I'm begging you not to."

"Manny I'll be fine, trust me."

"Rose I do trust you it's just, if Danny wakes up and you're hurt he'll blame himself, you know he will please just - "

I never heard the last of his sentence a whistle blew and I sped to the start line.

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At the line my adrenaline spiked to an all-time high.

 The whistle blew and I lost myself in the race. Knowing other racers were hot on my tail as I expertly pushed ahead of the pack, the wind whipping through my hair because I refused to wear a helmet (stupid but hey once an extremist always an extremist) , the smell of black tarmac waiting to be mauled by hundreds of bikes and the scent of freshly mowed grass always gave me a head rush.

I was pulled out of my haze by a murmuring of voices, when I focused I realized it wasn't a murmuring but a swell coming from the crowd, begging for tricks.

Considering that this benefit race was getting two bucks from every person in the audience when I or any other racer on the track nailed an epic stunt I guess the chanting was warranted.

Judging the distance between me and the nearest ramp I slowed just enough to let one racer fly by me and I lept into the air, purposefully losing my grip on the sleek bike beneath me. My body somersaulted and twisted in the air, when I was directly over the ramp I did a 180 and grabbed the ramp's railing with my hands, gripping for dear life. My legs stood tall in the air above my head and just when I thought I couldn't hold on anymore I caught sight of my bike in my peripherals. Knowing now was the time I again pulled a quick 180 and gripped the bike between my legs as it passed right above me, the momentum from the trick was enough to send me jetting past the racer that I had let by earlier.

The crowd cheered when they picked their jaws off of the ground and a gentle smirk laced my lips. This was where I belonged, on the tarmac with kindred spirits just looking for an adrenaline high enfused escape from reality. People like the newbie from my accident were just there for the glory and they didn't belong. 

I felt a gush of wind above me and as I looked up I could see the form of a bike and rider twisting above me, knowing that when they landed the bike would be propelled by momentum just as I had been I leant on the gas pedal. If I weighed more than eighty pounds I'm sure the gas pedal would've been stomped through the floor of my bike.

Adjusting my speed so that I was only a bit faster I popped a wheelie and changed it into a 360 flip. You could smell the burning rubber from all of the tricks being performed on the tarmac from the stands, the scent only added to the high and it gave me one idea for one last trick.

There was only one ramp in front of me now, I'd passed the others with the wind on my back but now I pulled up enough to get the vert I wanted for the trick. When I was high enough I let my arms rise in the air, a peace sign flashing from both hands and I flipped.

And flipped.

And flipped.

And flipped.

I considered doing another flip for an extra donation but I didn't want to risk my neck on a fifth flip. I was already falling quickly to the tarmac already.

I changed one of the peace signs to a fist and let my other hand fall,looking very similar to the one thrown up at the end of the classic movie The Breakfast Club, and let the other arm grip my handlebar again, landing with a thud but landing safely nonetheless.

I finished first and let my bike skid to a stop before throwing up one last peace sign to the audience and heading, on my bike, to the tent Manny had managed to get set up for donations prior to the race.

I leant the bike against a pole supporting the tent and went over to Manny sitting in the shade of the tent, cowering from mosquitoes and counting money.

In front of him there were tall stacks of money piled high like a house of cards. Surrounding the pile of money was a glistening mound of silver coins, nickels, dimes and quarters donated by the few spectators that came unaware of the night's donation race.

My eyes must have looked like A Bedtime Storie's Bugsby because I could feel them popping out of their sockets just looking at all of the money before Manny.

The look on Manny's face was the only thing that pulled my eyes away.

Seeing the odd set of his mouth and the distaste in his eyes I raised an eyebrow in a wordless question.

"We're about...$1000 dollars short, even with all of the donations, it's not enough."

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0-0      soooooooooooooooooooooooooooo, It's Rose, anyone shocked? 

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