West Kids - Frank and Chief Part Three

Wrench would have approved of the ingenuity, and Chief was impressed with the results too. After scouring the dump for almost an hour, Frank had unearthed what the two were looking for. There was no chance of finding a decent bicycle tire here, anything like that would have been located and appropriated long ago, but Frank did track down a thin plastic tupperware container to line the inside of his frayed tire walls. He cut out flat rectangles and used spots of rubber cement to hold them in place on the inside of the tire wall, covering the holes pierced by the dog. After re-inflating the tube, both cowboys took a close look at the tire and seemed satisfied with the job. The re-enforcement looked almost stronger than the original tire.

Chief and Frank took time to think about what their next move should be. The conservative move would be to return to the Pond, and call the supply run a loss. This wasn’t unusual. Things came up, plans had to be changed, the Desert did that to you. On the other hand, Frank’s tire seemed fine. It was early in the day, plenty of light left. And the Pond needed supplies. The Desert had sent a lot of cowboys come home empty handed lately; it would be a bit of a relief to come back with something.

Frank was of the opinion they should continue on. He rode around a bit, took his mount off curbs, around tight turns, skidded out in the dirt, and nothing dislodged the repairs. Again he pounded his front tire on the ground to show he could keep on going. So they did.

They went by the usual Locations, and found all of them were dry. Some were picked clean by Gremlins, but most were just unused sites anymore. The Townies didn’t dump as much as they used to, though new kids arrived in the Desert as often as they always had. Frank and Chief rode far out, into parts of the Desert that neither knew well. They saw no one, and the effective patch job bolstered their confidence, so they rode out further and further, looking for new waste Locations. Spots where the Townies dropped their excess, where it could be sifted through once more, and the still edible parts combed out for the mouths of the Pond.

Chief saw something that interested him and made a right turn. Frank followed behind him. The two cowboys were sweaty from riding all day in the sun. Dust was in the corners of their mouths, and their ankles were black with the filth of the trails. Chief’s Atheltics hat had salty veins running around the base, and the top was bleached out from its lifetime of use. Only the underside of the brim was still green.

Frank followed behind Chief and tried to guess what he was after. They had taken several turns over the past few hours following hunches and gut feelings toward dead ends. They had dispensed with explanations to one another for their hunches, so Frank didn’t seek one now. But Chief stayed intent on his path for almost a mile, still apparently seeing signs of a possible Location. They got to a sandy part on the trail where a storm had washed earth into the road years and years before, and Frank felt and heard the change the new surface made against his wheels. It was then that he picked up on the cue that Chief had been following. A set of car tire tracks ran through the sand, perfectly parallel, for about ten feet, and then disappeared where the asphalt resumed uncovered. The watershed pattern was quite clear; a truck had been this way recently.

This was the most encouraging sign of the day. Frank picked up his pace and drew even with Chief, trying to look ahead to see where the tracks might resume. Both cowboys scanned the road, driveways, and intersections. They looked for more loose earth that would hold information. Frank couldn’t find anything, but Chief made a left turn at the next intersection.

They were in a place with lots of tall buildings now. The streets were narrow and long burnt-out traffic lights came at every intersection. The sky scrappers cast short shadows, but riding on the south side of the street gave some shade from the sun, so Frank moved up onto the sidewalk as they rolled along.

Chief continued to lead, following tracks that Frank didn’t see. Frank new he wasn’t guessing, though. Chief was decisive in his riding, and the pair didn’t do any doubling back at all. After about a mile, they came to a little alley so narrow, very little sunlight made it to the street, even now so close to noon. At the mouth lay the negative of the same truck’s tire tread, cleanly pressed in mud. Frank was excited to see such fresh tracks undisturbed. It suggested a recent drop, and a Location unknown to Gremlins. Chief was riding ahead, and to Frank’s surprise, rolled right past the entrance to the alley, craning his neck to see further down the road.

Frank stopped, and let Chief keep riding. It seemed odd that Chief had been able to lead them so close to the drop, and then totally missed the obvious entrance. Frank looked down the alley and though the light was dim, he could see all the way to the dead end where a pile of recently deposited garbage lay slumped in one corner. Nobody was there. The Location hadn’t been searched, nothing was scattered or rifled through. Frank clicked his brake levers once to get Chief’s attention, and then turned down the alley.

Chief saw Frank drop into the alley, leaving his own line of tracks in the mud next to the truck’s, and his heart beat raced. He hadn’t missed the entrance, as Frank thought. Chief was suspicious of this drop so far from home. It needed a careful looking-over before he felt okay going into a dead-end alley.

He rode to the entrance as fast as possible, clicking his brakes furiously to get Frank to stop, but it was too late. When he got to the alley, Frank was all the way to the back and scoping out the deposit. Chief dismounted and lifted up his bike onto his shoulder. He walked slowly down the narrow strip, keeping to the edges where the mud didn’t reach. His eyes searched the ground in front of him.

Frank realized he’d been a little hasty. He hadn’t checked the ground for intentionally placed thorns or nails. Now he waited until his fellow cowboy got to the back of the alley.

Chief didn’t find anything. He set his mount down and leaned it against a brick wall. Then he went to Frank’s bike and inspected the tires. Again finding nothing, he furrowed his eyebrows, and looked back out to the entrance of the alley. Frank waited, not sure what to do. They made eye contact, Chief’s eyebrows still knit. Frank glanced at the deposit, and back to Chief, waiting for the go-ahead. Chief shrugged, nodded, and the two began filling their panniers with the best from the deposit.

The pickings were rich. There was variety, and unusually good quality. Layered into the deposit were whole loaves of bread, a box of peaches with only small bits of rot, several blocks of moldy cheese, even part of a birthday cake. Frank treated himself to a bite of it, and offered the rest to Chief even though he expected the stoic cowboy to turn it down, but Chief surprised him by taking a large mouthful. Frank thought he even caught a small smile on the Chief’s face as he chewed the stale cake, frosting in the corners of his mouth. Frank smiled back. This was the best find in a long time. They’d be able to fill up the panniers to the brim at this one Location, and the Pond would appreciate the improved food. They even found a small packet of beef jerky, and broke the rule about taking meat from a Location.

When they could get nothing else into their bags, Frank and Chief strapped them down. Chief looked at the deposit once more before mounting to leave. He was considering whether it’d be worth it to return here again tomorrow for more when the sound of footsteps echoed down the corridor. Immediately, he and Frank turned to the entrance, expecting to see trouble, but there was no one. They looked at each other then, and both knew that leaving the alley would be tricky now.

Frank felt a fear for his life start in his chest and rip through his body out to his fingertips. He felt trapped in the alley. He hated being cornered, how many Grems were waiting out there? The bricks around him squeezed in around him, and soared above his head. There was no way to escape except by the way they came in. Those Grems had tricked him, had lurked so close by, but been invisible. Frank’s breathing got faster. He looked to Chief.

Chief realized his guard had been down in the alley, and he was intensely angry with himself. They should have had one cowboy stationed at the entrance while the other filled the bags. Now there could be any number of terrible things waiting for them at the entrance. The most likely thing was two Gremlins standing on either side of the alley, just out of sight. If there were more in the area, they probably would have attacked the cowboys outright.

The cowboys couldn’t walk out, they’d be moving too slowly, would be entering a two-on-two fight and giving up the first blows to their opponents. But riding out full speed was almost as bad. The Gremlins could use their velocity against them, jamming sticks in their wheels, or just swinging something heavy across the shoulders to force a dismount. They had to make a move now though. Time waiting to act was time when other Gremlins might decide to show up. Chief let himself be angry for one more second. The idea that this Location was unknown and unwatched was so obviously idiotic to him now, especially with the tracks in the mud virtually highlighting the entrance. He bawled himself out for the mistake. And then he let it go.

Chief Signaled his plan to Frank. Frank looked worried, but understood, and Chief knew it was the best chance they had, so he mounted and rode toward the entrance, gathering speed. Frank followed behind, with just enough space between himself and Chief to allow for an emergency slam-on-the-brakes, should Chief be thrown from his ride as they emerged. The fingers of Frank’s left hand were clamped on his handle bars like a vice. His wrist protested, but Frank could hardly feel it. Both rode with implements at the ready, and as close to the center of the alley as possible. The idea was to force one or both of the Gremlins to have to move out from his hiding place in order to reach the first cowboy, allowing Frank who trailed to deal a secondary blow and hopefully change the fight to a two-on-one, ideally with at least one cowboy still mounted. Chief was the bait, Frank the fisherman.

As he got to the opening, Chief crouched way down and buried his head down between his forearms, waiting for impact. He prepared for a hit originating on his right, banking on a right-handed Gremlin. Sure enough, he was met by a boy a little older than himself with a wooden bat in hand coming from the right side of the alley. Chief had only a split second to swerve toward his attacker, putting his handlebars into the boy’s ribs, and taking some of the weight out of his swing. He still caught a painful shot in his left shoulder, before the collision send the two of them sprawling into the road together.

The boy from the other side of the alley descended on Chief, but Frank was on him with a shot across the back of the head that dropped him to the ground. The Implement connected with rare force, and made a heavy thump. Frank coasted out past the pile up then turned back to come riding in again. His hand was shaking. Adrenaline had taken over his brain and muscles.

Chief was mounting his bike while the first boy righted himself and retrieved his bat. Chief deftly avoided a second swing of the bat as he threw his leg over his saddle and gained speed. Frank raised his implement again and almost charged in, but came to his senses when he saw Chief sprinting away. It was better to avoid the fight now, to use their advantage in the saddle to escape, so he and Chief crushed their pedals and put distance between themselves and now a single Gremlin sprinting after them. The boy Frank had hit with his Implement was still face down in the road. Blood shined on his neck.

As Frank glanced back to see the gap widening, the boy chasing screamed something after them that Frank took for an insult. It was clear he and Chief would easily win out in the chase. But the boy still ran after, falling farther behind, still calling out the same single syllable again. And again. Finally Frank recognized it, the boy was shouting, ‘Now!’ and then he and Chief were forced to swerve wide as a new boy appeared from a side street emptying a bucket of broken glass across their path. Frank was able to miss the bulk of the glass, but Chief’s tires rode right through a messy stretch of shards. A soft hiss came from the Titus now as they passed the second pursuer. The Gremlins ran on behind them, waiting for the cowboys’ deflating tires to ground them, but Chief and Frank rode on.

Chief clenched his teeth and pushed harder and harder on the pedals. The full bags dragged him down, it took much more effort to keep up a decent clip than it should. The ominous hissing of his mount drove his legs. He had to move himself as far as possible while the riding was still reasonable.

Next to him, Frank was working hard to keep up, hauling his own load of weight. He considered dropping his bags, but Chief was clearly determined not to lose any supplies, so Frank put his head down and focused on turning his cranks. The Titus’ rear wheel was flat in no time, and the front dropping in pressure, but Chief rode on as though it was in perfect condition. Frank marveled at the Chief as he watched his legs push on and on, seemingly inexhaustible. The Chief’s body utterly refused to slow in the slightest. After another half mile of watching their prey pedal on un-phased, the Gremlins gave up, panting in the street. Frank turned and saw the original boy from the alley looking after them, hands on his knees. The boy shook his head once in disbelief, and then let is hang down as he gasped for breath.

The minutes went by, and still Frank and Chief saw no one behind them, but their pace was unyielding. Though the Gremlins had given up their chase, it wasn’t safe to stop yet. The cowboys knew that it would be a long ways before they could dismount and attempt to repair the Titus. The Gremlins might be following, hoping to catch up with the cowboys when they stopped.

Frank was out of the saddle, rocking back and forth with the effort to keep up with Chief. The burst of energy that came with the fear in the alley had subsided. There was no hiding it, he was tired. His breathing was controlled and in rhythm with his cadence. His mouth contorted, his teeth clenched. He ignored the thirst in his throat. Ignored his chapped lips and the salt in his eyes. His shirt was soaked with sweat, and his legs begged him to let off just a little. They protested each time he pushed with his quads, and pulled with his hamstrings. His calves were cramping. But as he looked over and saw Chief still forcing the Titus forward on two flat tires, he exhaled and kept on.