She shakes her head, but I can see her smile. "They may have a map," she says quietly, pointing at an abandoned service station.
That’s what’s great about my sister. She notices the essential things we need while I keep my eyes out for danger. We head over to the building, then break the glass to get into the store side of the station. Hensley goes right and I go left. I hear her yell that she found some maps.
Before I can tell her to scale out our trip, I see our salvation. That is, as long as it runs. Since this is a service shop, there’s a chance that the Kawasaki Ninja 400 I'm staring at may not be running yet. There are three sets of keys on the corkboard in the shop. I take all three of them, walk over to the bike and figure out which one starts it. It starts up with the second set I try. Hensley stands in the doorway, leaning against it, watching me.
I know I look like a kid in a candy store. I've always wanted one of these. Not necessarily a Kawasaki, although this one is badass, but a motorcycle in general. At first, it was because it was out of our reach expense-wise, but after the first wave of the event, when I could've just taken one, there was a shortage of fuel, and really, where was there to go at the time?
Now, it will be most useful. That’s if luck is on our side. Revving the motor up, I sit on it to look at all the dials. Everything looks alright, except, of course, the gas gauge.
Turning it off, Hensley has the map spread across the desk. "What do you think?"
She looks up when I ask, almost as if she forgot I was there. "I found a direct route from here. If we walk, it will take four or five days," she raises her eyebrows, "if we ride, maybe a day or two."
I look around to see if there is a hose lying around anywhere. There is another bike there for service and a vehicle. If I can siphon enough fuel, I can fill up the gas tank and we can save wear and tear on our legs.
"Here, I’ll do it." Hensley grabbed the plastic out of my hand. Of course, my sister, the expert sucker. In reality, she’s much quicker than I will be.
She got it coming out of the other bike and going into the Ninja. There was enough to fill the tank. I open the door to the garage, we get on, then ride out. The bike runs like it is coming off the lot. Feeling Hensley hug my back makes me feel like I am her strength when she is actually mine.
I wish our lives would have been normal and happy growing up. I wish my mom would have actually cared about us. I wish Hensley had the opportunity to know what it’s like to be free and happy. I wish for a lot of things. I have tried to make up for our shitty past.
Looking at her in the side-view mirror, I know though, that neither of us will ever be satisfied until we take our pound of flesh that is owed to us. We are broken toys in my mother's world. We aren't trying to be made whole by any means. We just want her to know that, even if damaged, we will dismantle her just to watch her bleed.
CHAPTER8
HENSLEY
Tieran’s always had a need for speed. His is just different than mine. While adrenaline comes to him naturally, I need to shoot or snort mine.
As we roar through the streets, I feel more content than I have in a long time with my cheek nuzzled against his back. I love my brother, I always have, but our love grew into something it shouldn’t have.
Mutated into a monster that craved blood, revenge, and devouring each other’s bodies in moments of weakness.
Not that I think either of us are weak.
We’re stronger than anyone would ever think because we’re smarter than anyone left.
Hell, we survived that bitch that gave birth to us. It may have been in more pieces than one, but our piecesalwaysfit together.
That’s all that will ever matter,I think happily as I close my eyes. Tieran leans the bike to the right as he blasts down another street and tighten my grip around him.
I feel him inhale a deep, content breath of air as he eases further back against me.
I’m his safe place, and he’s mine.
I’d die for him, and he wouldn’t hesitate to sacrifice himself for me if we were ever forced into such a situation.
We’re infected in our own ways because our loveisa disease. One that neither of us ever wants to be cured of.
“Hang on!” Tieran calls out over the roar of the bike as we careen to the left, then right.
I grind my teeth together as I bury my face into his back. Clearly, there are obstructions in the road and he’s doing his best to get around them—and keep our little broken pieces intact.
“Keep it steady!” I shout into his ear as I grip the back of his jacket tightly in my fist, then pull my bat free.
I can feel the rumble of his laughter as he maintains his high speeds as well as a straight line.
I can see them a block away.