But we don’t tread cautiously, not at all. We charge onward, one mile that becomes two, I think, mosquitoes and gnats swarming us in suffocating numbers. Still, we press onward. Finally, we cut up a hill and a paved road comes into view, as do three motorcycles. I assume they’re our rides home, but then Savage holds up a hand again and starts walking toward the bikes on his own. My heart leaps with the obvious possibility that they belong to the Devils. Adrian somehow reads me and catches my gaze. He mouths, “Ours.”
I breathe out, relief expelled from my chest, and already Savage is motioning us forward. Adrian claims a shiny black motorcycle with a yellow streak. He hands me a helmet and I’ve actually never been on a bike, but not much rattles me. Well, except tunnels under cabins that could collapse at any moment.
Securing my helmet, Adrian does the same of his and throws his leg over the bike. Savage and Adam have already mounted. I don’t have to be told to climb on behind Adrian, not when I want the heck out of here. I hike myself on board and wrap my arms around him, and he grabs my hands and closes my fingers around his belt loops.
Once I’m secure, the three men lift hands in the air, seeming to complete some count before, in unison, they rev their engines. Adrian is the first to pull onto the road, but we are not alone. A cluster of three motorcycles blast out of the woods and in our direction. I scream as gunfire rips through the air and Adrian shouts, “Hold on!”
I’m already leaning into Adrian, holding on to his belt now, and it’s a good thing. He swerves, left and right, no doubt trying to turn us into a difficult target. Savage and Adam’s bikes appear by our sides and both men hold weapons, firing behind us. A motorcycle skids off the road.
Adrian zooms past the scene, accelerating, leaving Adam and Savage to handle our attackers. Our path appears free, but our speed is intense, and at moments, we’re all but sideways as we travel wild curves left and right until Adrian directs us off the road. We skid to an abrupt halt and he says nothing, focused on his intent, which appears to be him acting on his fear that I’m not secured properly.
He grabs a rope from I don’t know where, and wraps it around us, anchoring me to him before he knots it hard. My heart thunders wildly with the silent promise that we’re in for a wicked ride.
Already we’re moving again, and my God, it’s rough, jolting terrain and my one comfort is that Adrian drives it like a man who knows this ground. His confidence feeds my confidence in his skill and our survival. That is until he sends us flying in the air, over a ditch. I’m screaming into the wind when we land hard and solid on the dirt terrain just off the roadway.
Our landing sends air gushing from my lungs as we blast forward and away from the highway. Slowly the spike of adrenaline calms, and I hug Adrian, expecting the unexpected. I don’t know how long I press my cheek to his back and hold on for dear life, but finally, finally, we return to the main, albeit remote, road again and our path is smoother.
What follows are long winding roads until we reach a major highway. Only then does Adrian pull to the edge of a gas station just long enough to flip up his visor and ask, “Are you okay?”
“Yes,” I say flipping up my visor, appalled he stopped just because of me, but of course, I did freak out in a hole. “Good. Go. Get us out of here.”
And thank God, he does.
In a blink, we’re pulling onto the highway again and with trouble seemingly behind us, I worry about how long it’s been since we saw Savage and Adam. Please let them be okay. Relief comes hard and fast as our path transforms into the familiar territory of Austin’s Hill Country and Cat Mountain neighborhood.
In what I sense is our final trek, Adrian navigates the winding roads. About a mile up the road, he draws to a halt at the gate of a mansion set on top of a hill, with expansive grounds.
The gates open and Adrian maneuvers us down a long tree-covered path and turns us down a circle drive. The house is white stucco with several flights of steps leading to a heavy dungeon-style red door. Never before has the Asian red door for luck been kinder to my eyes. I’ll take luck where we can claim it, anywhere we can claim it.
The bike hums to a stop just beyond the front door.