Saving Paradise by Mike Bond

Author:Mike Bond
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Mike Bond
Published: 2019-08-25T00:00:00+00:00

No It’s IEEC

THE COP CAME OUT OF nowhere with lights blazing as I turned the Suzuki onto the mountain road. Oh Shit what can I do flashing through my head as I raced down the steep twisting pavement slick with rotten leaves, the speedometer bouncing on seventy, the bike skidding near horizontal on the curves, the cop’s blinding lights, siren and thundering engine at my back as I saw a road to the right and grabbed it, the bike slamming high into the air and whammed down and up again, fast down a long pasture past barbed wire on both sides, the cop car whanging and banging behind me but losing ground, and when the track split I took the worse one then shot off through the trees, my headlight darting among the trunks, the tires spitting dirt and roots, branches whacking my face.

The cop gave it up, far behind. But there’d be others on the main road now − how to get across it? I stopped on a knoll and cut the engine to listen. A few distant cars, the far rumble of the sea. My thundering heart and tick-tick of the cooling engine. My legs shivering in the aftermath of fear. Burnt grass stench on the muffler.

Why had the cop chased me? Had Tank betrayed me?

Was my cover blown?

Did they know about the Hulk? Could I even go back to it?

The main road was a narrow black two-lane snaking down from the western hills but flat as an arrow across the plains, with nowhere to cross that the cops wouldn’t see me half a mile away. I would have to go north along the windy bluffs above the sea cliffs, in open country, hoping the cops couldn’t follow.

I tied my shirt over the headlight to dim it and puttered through the coffee groves circling the town of Hoolehua and north of the airport, working west toward Maunaloa Town and the Ranch HQ.

There was a thrum in the distance I recognized instantly and knew I was finished: Chopper.

He flitted up and down the main road flashing searchlights to both sides then swung back toward where I’d lost the cop. He danced around there for a while making me think he’d lost me, then he roared toward me right along the little trail I’d taken, fifty feet off the deck with searchlights blazing. I shoved the bike under a fallen kiawe tree as he snarled over shaking the ground, and pinioned there in his afterblast I sensed what it had been like to be Vietnamese.

When he pulled away I ran the bike along the trail, no lights. The throb of his rotors grew fainter, his lights twinkling as he headed back toward Hoolehua.

The bike was heavy to push but I didn’t dare start it, even with no sign of cop lights now on the main road. 23:18 − I stopped and listened for five minutes, heard nothing but a pueo hunting, and the ever-present distant growl of surf. I started the bike and drove without lights west toward Maunaloa Town.

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