He caught her by the shoulders and shoved her back, more surprised than angry. “Easy, lady!”
She snapped at him—with her fucking teeth!
Everything went quiet in my head.
“Beck!” I shouted.
Her head whipped toward me, mouth opening too wide, a wet sound tearing out of her throat that didn’t sound like pain or fear.
I didn’t think.
I moved.
I pulled the small can of pepper spray from my pack and stepped around Beck, spraying it directly into her eyes. Nothing. She kept coming at me as if I were spraying water at her.
“What the hell?!” I yelled as Beck shoved me back and punched her in the head.
She fell to the ground, stunned for a moment, then started clawing at the ground, trying to stand. I stood there breathing hard, staring down at her in shock. Grown ass men would’ve been knocked out by that punch.
Beck glanced between her and me before yelling, “Let’s get the hell out of here!”
We didn’t talk as we got back on the bike. After several miles, he pulled over.
“What in the actual fuck was that?” he sounded exactly how I felt.
“I don’t know,” I answered him honestly. “Probably drugs.”
I’m not sure either of us believed that.
“Maybe.” He sounded doubtful.
“Should we call someone about the sick people in the cars?” This whole situation was freaking me out more than I was letting on.
“No. They were probably on the same shit as she was.” Beck scanned the road, suddenly alert in a way he hadn’t been before. “I think the sooner we get home, the better.”
“Agreed.”
As we approached the first town on our way home, the road grew increasingly crowded.
Cars crawled forward in uneven clusters. Some pulled off onto shoulders for no reason I could see. A few people stood outside their vehicles, arguing—voices sharp, gestures wild, savage somehow.
Beck slowed as we came to an intersection in a small town. The light was blinking red in all directions.
A woman leaned against a nearby car, cursing into the phone in her hand. A couple stood on the sidewalk with a grocery bag between them, sweating and looking extremely unwell. Someone was vomiting across the street.
“I believe we'll have to put the malt on hold for now. I have a gut feeling that it's not the best time to stop. Let's find something to eat a bit further down the road instead.” Beck rolled forward.
That was when a man broke from the group.
He moved fast—faster than what I thought was normal—grabbing the handlebars with both hands and yanking hard.
“I need this bike to get my girl to the hospital. Get the fuck off!” he snapped. “Now!”
Everything happened at once.
Beck turned off the engine and dismounted the bike in a single fluid move. His fist hit the man’s face before I could even gasp.
The crack echoed.
