Just Us And The Road

By J. Hepburn

When riders die, somebody needs to watch and remember, so nobody has to die alone. Some of those who die perform this service for others, moving from town to town to bear witness wherever they are needed. It is a lonely existence, even when the camaraderie is strong, and the urge to find companionship and more among the living can be overwhelming. When Alexia lets herself fall prey to that urge, she becomes involved in darkness even she cannot recognise, and discovers she has a much more important duty than she had realized...

• Language: English
• Publisher: J. Hepburn
• Release date: Aug 12, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463870266

J. Hepburn

J. Hepburn is a speculative fiction writer from Queensland, Australia. They live with their girlfriend, two cats, the ghosts of four giant grey shaggy hounds that take up a lot of space, and innumerable visiting magpies, kookaburras, parrots and carpet pythons.

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Just Us and the Road

J. Hepburn

When riders die, somebody needs to watch and remember, so nobody has to die alone. Some of those who die perform this service for others, moving from town to town to bear witness wherever they are needed. It is a lonely existence, even when the camaraderie is strong, and the urge to find companionship and more among the living can be overwhelming. When Alexia lets herself fall prey to that urge, she becomes involved in darkness even she cannot recognise, and discovers she has a much more important duty than she had realized...

Just Us and the Road

By J. Hepburn

All rights reserved.  No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without written permission of the publisher, except for the purpose of reviews.

Edited by Keith Kaczmarek

Cover designed by Natasha Snow

This book is a work of fiction and all names, characters, places, and incidents are fictional or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people, places, or events is coincidental.

Second Edition August 2019

First edition published by Less Than Three Press, LLC

Copyright © 2019 by J. Hepburn

Printed in the United States of America

Just Us and the Road

They come out on twisty roads over what looks like a mountain ridge. The ground falls away on either side with stands of trees breaking up paddocks so uneven they're only good for cattle, which stand around in stationary groups or lie in what shade they find. The smell of the air, and the colour of the grass, says that while rain isn't uncommon, it hasn't happened for a week or more. It's unpleasantly hot, even with wind blast.

They pass houses, mostly old—perhaps a century—and in the raised, wooden, deep-verandah style they feel they recognise. The houses become more modern before they enter a town with an entire tourist industry built in a long strip downhill.

They see one service station, a tiny shop on a corner with space for a couple of cars at a time. Downhill, across the side street, is a park.

Four line up for petrol. The rest find parking spaces up and down the street or on the side street beside the park for bikes that don't handle slopes well on their stands. Alexia manages to grab a level spot.

She sits with both feet on the ground, balancing her R80 underneath her, as she pulls her gloves and helmet off and breaths deeply, trying to get a sense for where they are. The air feels baked and lifeless despite the altitude and the paddocks around the town.

Around her, the others are quicker to park, get off, strip off riding gear and start transitioning back to two-legged beings. Alexia delays as long as possible. She already knows she'll be the first back on her bike anyway.

There's a small supermarket down the hill, so Chuck and Yolanda, who can play friendly, harmless, married couple (they've never even slept together, as far as Alexia knows, but maybe that helps), stroll down to get some supplies and feel out the locals.

Bryce is distracted by a second-hand book store. Alexia marks out several cafés, but the itch is stronger than the urge for coffee.

They assemble in the park opposite the service station, keeping well away from the swing set where a couple of kids from an up-market 4WD are being watched by hovering parents. Alexia dismounts reluctantly.

Smells like Queensland, Rick says.

Kitsch tourist town, Bryce says flatly. Too respectable for weed, and too commercial to be interesting.

They get masses of bikers through a couple of times a year, Yolanda says. She and Chuck have handed around some two-litre bottles of cold store-brand soft drinks. Rallies. March and November.

Good place for it, Nicole says. Pretty.

Siobhan is staring around them. I know this place, she says. Queensland. Yeah, it's somewhere in Queensland.

If you figure it out, let us know, Kris says. Think there'll be good pickings for you?

Siobhan sniffs the air. Her grey eyes get their intense green tinge. She straightens her back then keeps rolling her shoulders backwards, her jacket falling away from her breasts under her tight T-shirt and her hips twitching in her skin-tight leather riding pants. Yeah, should be. Not sure... Not on this strip, too obvious. Maybe. I'll go hunting.

You do that, Kris says. Cash is getting low. The rest of you, spread out, make yourselves friendly. Anybody feeling restless?

Yeah, Alexia says. She's moving from foot to foot, her eyes hunting out all the streets she can see from where they're standing.

The rest share a nod. They can see she's got the itch.

Anyone else? Kris says.

Derek frowns. Maybe, he says.

Well, go for a ride, Kris says. Take off. We'll meet back here in two hours.

Alexia hadn't unzipped her jacket, despite a sun that has the locals and tourists around them sweating in shorts, mini-skirts and sarongs. She hadn't been comfortable stopping. She really hadn't been comfortable loitering. The itch has her far too strongly, grabbing her as soon as the first houses had appeared. She just doesn't know where it's pulling her, yet.

Derek is still frowning, and doing up his jacket, as he walks back to his Commando slowly.

They had parked close together. Derek gets back as Alexia settles into her saddle and does up her helmet strap.

Where are you heading? he asks.

She jerks her head back up the hill, to where a side road is getting a bit of traffic in both directions. There's a large green road sign, so it must be important, although they can't read it yet. Thought I'd look up there. No real reason.

Derek frowns as he fishes the second strap out of the inside of his helmet. Yeah, alright. I'll head downhill, then.

Two hours, Alexia says as she switches on.

Two hours, Derek says before pulling his helmet down.

Alexia rocks her Beemer off its centre-stand before thumbing the starter for a bark and an opposed-twin snarl like tearing cloth.

She has to wait for the traffic to let her get across the road, so Derek roars to life and slips off before she gets moving. Then she's off between cars, laying the bike on its ear to turn uphill, and at the in-town speed limit in second gear quickly enough to have time to get impatient