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“Tighter,” he yells.
I obey him, his waist narrower than I thought it would be between my hands.
“Don’t loosen your grip,” he shouts, and revs up even more.
I hold on for dear life.
/Marco/
[audio transcript]
I remember being in the army, listening to a conversation explaining how the heiress to the throne of Asteria could be a valuable pawn.
How, someone asked. She is just a girl. And a pretty useless one, I hear.
Well, not she as herself, the answer came. But doing something with her…
Doing what?
Killing her, for instance. Now that might start things up, you know? Stop things, start some other things.
Someone gasped. I didn’t speak, I listened.
Like what? someone else asked.
Like war.
seven
Vermont flashes past us in greens, reds and yellows.
Mostly greens as yet, but the autumn reds are beginning to show through. I lean my head against Marco’s back, his leather jacket cool against my cheek, and let my eyes drift over the crystal-gray expanses of water that mirror the trees and the sky. The most beautiful, soft pink sunrise dawns on the horizon, and I feel like such an idiot for momentarily wishing I was in a car and able to sleep.
It’s true that it’s so cold on this bike I can feel my bones shudder. Plus, it’s scary going so fast, and I’m so tired I’m falling asleep.
But, man, the beauty.
I can smell the leaves, the water, the crispness of the air. I have never experienced these things in my life. I realize that there is so much I have missed, going through life with a bulletproof glass always between me and the sunrise.
I tighten my hands around Marco’s waist, and his body feels wired and slender, his skin taught underneath his jacket. Even covered up with two sweaters, a jacket and a cap, I’m still freezing. Google said that the cold gets intense when you’re speeding on a bike, so I dressed accordingly. And it was right. Barely one hour in, and I can’t breathe.
Not just from the cold, either.
Marco’s back is crushed against my chest, my legs melded to his, and all of me is pressed against all of him. My body is a continuation of his. I can feel every tiny ripple of muscle movement as he pulls the clutch, selects the gears, and rolls the throttle. His driving is effortlessly perfect, as if the Ducati is part of his body. As if he’s done this a lot. His body is relaxed and taut at the same time. I try to focus on the forest blurring by, but it’s harder and harder to focus on anything else but the body I’m wrapped around.
Suddenly, a curse flies out of Marco’s lips, the wind snatching the word at once, and he swerves savagely. I latch on to him, feeling the bike roar and moan underneath us as he half-lifts his body off the seat, taming it like a wild animal. The Ducati turns this way and that, and Marco screams at me to hold on as the bike drops dangerously low, the wheels spinning on the road. We take a huge, sharp turn, almost a U-turn. Gasping, I look wildly around me as the bike whirls like a tornado, looking for the reason.
It's a dog.
It has run out in the middle of the fastest lane, directly in our path.
I’m amazed Marco saw it, because the dog looks like a small, dark blur as we speed past it. It’s running too. Running straight for the bike. Marco swerves some more to avoid it and the dog yelps, heading for the wheels.
Marco screams and I feel something hit the bike with force, sending it spiraling on the road. Marco’s body gets stone-hard underneath my arms as he fights to right the huge machine underneath him. Finally, the dog leaves us alone, and as Marco hits the brakes abruptly, I can see the animal clearly: it is huge and gray, looking more like a small wolf then a dog, but it’s still circling us, its long body moving blurrily as the bike swerves crazily, slowing down, before falling on its side.
We fall with it, my body flying through the air, and then landing with a thump. My breath stops at the abrupt landing, and for a moment I just lie there on the street, stunned, feeling the cold seep into me and begin to replace the white-hot heat of the terror.
Then someone is shaking me so hard my teeth rattle.
