Darkness of the Soul

Patch

"I have to pay for that!" Jack protested.

His dismayed cry fell on deaf ears as Vince sped off in his Dodge Charger, laughing hysterically. The sixteen-year-old boy sighed. Great. Another lecture from his uptight boss, and more money taken from his wallet. He heard a snicker behind him, and he felt heat in his cheeks. Why couldn't he have a break...

At least his manager didn't fire him for losing another meal, letting him end his shift with some dignity. A lot of the cars in the parking lot were as run down as the rest of Jasper—hand-me-down vehicles with peeling paint and rusted brakes.

But none of them were for him. Mom used the only car they had, in order to go to and from the hospital. Since she worked late hours, she couldn't pick him up at the end of his work day. It didn't matter, anyway, since she didn't trust him a driver's license. So the teenager was stuck with his plain bicycle he had since middle school.

Jack quickly pedaled off, prepared for the three-mile ride to his house, a given twenty minutes ride through the heart of town. Letting everyone see the pride of Jack Darby and his glorious bike.

There was so little traffic in Jasper, even during rush hour (or the time Jack considered rush hour, but the little town never heard of it). The sun was beginning to set, setting the sky ablaze with bright hues of crimson and violet. Jack looked up to enjoy the sight. It oddly reminded him of Washington, when—

There was a squeal of tires and Jack wheezed as something hard slammed into his side. He naturally went flying off his bike, or his bike went flying. He wasn't sure. He only remembered lying flat on his back on burning hot asphalt, staring at the brilliant sky far above him.

"Crap," a voice, a woman's, cursed. She said it in some lax form, because it sounded like she said "scrap." The voice went on, concerned and impatient at the same time. "Sorry! You okay, kid?"

Jack let out a groan. "Yeah..." His head hurt. "I think..."

There was a rumble of an engine and a burst of static, almost sounding like a sigh. The boy cautiously sat up, looking up at the strange noise. He was greeted with a sleek, street bike motorcycle. It was painted a flawless blue with silver touches. His bicycle lay next to it, as if the universe was mocking how unfair life was.

The motorcycle was gorgeous. After living in three major cities, that said a lot. It might take few K.O. paychecks, but he was going to own a ride like that someday. And he would be out of this backwater town.

The rider was in all black leather with blue lining, despite it was over 90 degrees Fahrenheit. She was obviously a woman, but the tinted visor of her helmet hid her face. Her head was facing in his direction, and even though he couldn't see her eyes, Jack felt the unnerving feeling of being watched.

"You should be more careful," the woman scolded. "I could have killed you."

That's a little extreme. Why did she sound so certain about that? Well, most adults sounded like that.

"S-sorry," Jack fumbled as he got to his feet. Then he did a double take. "Wait a sec. Why am I apologizing? You hit me!"

"You got in my way!"

"You're the driver! You're the one that supp—!"

His argument was cut off by a distant engine. Jack glanced down the road to see two deep purple cars pull onto the main drive. The style looked something akin to NASCAR vehicles, but something was off. They looked more... sinister.