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Matchbox Seventeen Adam hit the brakes. My body slammed into the side of the seat as the tour bus squealed to a halt. My right arm, jammed between the seat and my torso, throbbed with pain. Leaning to the side, I released my arm and rubbed it with my left hand. I looked at Adam. His head was against the steering wheel, which he clenched beneath his fingers. "You okay?" "That was Rob I almost hit," he spoke into the wheel before sitting up straight. Three tattooed, biker-looking men raced in front of the tour bus and ran after Rob. "’The heck is going on?" Adam murmured. We jumped out of the tour bus and stood on the side of the road, watching as three bikers chased Rob into the wooded area across from the Exxon. Rob clamoured up a tree, one of the three climbing after him. The other two stood at the bottom, laughing and swearing. I had to do something. I knew that Adam, Rob, and I couldn’t take on the muscle-bound men; there had to be another way. Glancing across the street, I saw three motorcycles parked in the outskirts of the Exxon parking lot. I took off running. "Brian!" Adam yelled after me, but I didn’t turn around. I crossed the street and stopped right in front of the bikes. "Great wheels!" I hollered, and the two bikers standing at the bottom of the tree swirled around. I pushed over one of the motorcycles. "Hey, squirt!" a biker yelled at me. "You’d better just walk away now if you know what’s good for you!" Thrusting my left foot into another motorcycle, I left behind a toe-sized dent. My foot was killing me, but I didn’t let that show. The two bikers glanced at one another before taking off after me. I watched them as they approached, knocking over the other motorcycle and slamming my heel into it. The bikers sped across the street, but I stayed with the motorcycles. I gave one another kick. Really, at this point, my foot hurt too much to be inflicting any damage anyway. But I continued anyway. When they were closing in, I turned and ran toward the Waffle House next door to the Exxon. I should have started running earlier; they were closing in too fast. I scrambled around the back of the building, searching for somewhere to hide. I couldn’t run from them forever. There was no place to hide, so I raced down the street. "You friggin’ little sh**!" one of the bikers cried out, along with some other choice words. The toes in my left foot were throbbing, and I felt them swelling beneath the shoe. I shifted my weight to my heels. Still. Couldn’t run for much longer. Then something snagged my collar, and I went down. |