David Robbins - Capital Run

The two women were fleeing for their lives.

They raced over the crest of a low hill, the statuesque redhead and the petite brunette, their legs churning, sweat caking their skin, their breathing labored as their straining lungs gasped for air. The redhead was in the lead, a few feet in front of her companion. Both women wore similar black-leather outfits consisting of a tight vest and skimpy shorts, appropriate attire considering the heat of the June day and their strenuous exertion.

“We’ll never make it!” the brunette cried, wheezing.

The redhead glanced over her right shoulder and scowled. “We’ll make it, damnit! Don’t give up on me now!”

“I’m doing the best I can, Lexine,” the brunette stated.

Lexine smiled encouragingly. “Hang in there, Mira,” she said, her tone reflecting her concern for her friend. “Another mile and we’ll take to the trees.”

The duo jogged onward, sticking to the center of the highway, carefully avoiding the dozens of potholes and deep ruts pockmarking the ancient asphalt surface.

Mira stumbled and almost fell.

Lexine slowed and grabbed Mira’s right hand, supporting her. “Lean on me,” she offered.

Mira shook her head, her short hair bobbing. “I’d only slow you down.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Lexine said.

“Maybe we should take to the trees now,” Mira suggested.

Both sides of the highway were lined with dense vegetation, affording ample hiding space and shelter from the sweltering temperature.

“We’ve got to put as much distance between them and us as we can,” Lexine declared. “This way is faster.”

Mira panted as she struggled to stay abreast of Lexine. “I don’t like being out in the open like this!” she remarked. “At least in the woods they wouldn’t find us.”

“Don’t forget the dogs,” Lexine reminded the brunette.

Mira blanched and increased her speed.

Minutes passed in relative quiet, broken by the pounding of their leather sandals on the roadway and the ragged sound of their breathing.

“You know this is crazy, don’t you?” Mira asked.

“Save your energy,” Lexine said.

“We’ll never make it!” Mira reiterated.

From behind them, in the distance, came a peculiar buzzing.

Mira slowed, cocking her head. “Do you hear it?” she wailed.

Lexine stopped and turned, her shoulder-length hair whipping around her neck. “I hear them,” she confirmed.

“Dear God! What do we do?” Mira almost screamed, panic contorting her narrow features.

Lexine glared at her friend, her green eyes blazing. “Get a grip on yourself!” she commanded.

The strange buzzing was becoming louder and louder.

“They’re going to catch up!” Mira whined.

Lexine pointed to their left. “Into the trees. Move!”

Mira shuffled toward the woods, her brown eyes wide, staring at the hill to their rear.

Lexine moved to the left, her right hand gripping the handle of the 15-inch survival knife attached by its brown sheath to her black belt, just above her right hip. If they were caught, she told herself, she would give a good accounting for her life! She wouldn’t be wasted without a fight! But maybe they wouldn’t be caught. If they could only reach the trees and take cover, there was a good chance Cardew and the others would pass them by.

If they could only reach those trees!

Lexine was a yard from the edge of the highway when she heard a sharp screech followed by the dull thud of a body slamming to the pavement. She whirled, knowing what she would see.

Mira had tripped in a pothole and fallen onto her stomach, scraping her knees and elbows in the process.

Lexine hurried to her friend and took hold of her left elbow. “On your feet!” she snapped. “We’ve got to reach the woods!”

Mira, moaning, rose to a crouching position. “My right leg feels like it’s broken!” she wailed.

“It’s not broken!” Lexine disputed, well aware of Mira’s propensity for exaggeration. “Now move your ass!”

Mira abruptly straightened, forgetting all about her “broken” leg.

“Look!” she screamed. “It’s them!”

Lexine spun.

There were four of them poised on the crown of the hill, their cycles idling, their black-leather jackets and pants lending an ominous aspect to their appearance.

“Damn!” Lexine fumed. Why the hell had she ever agreed to bring Mira along? Mira wasn’t up to this. She had slowed them down, and now they were as good as dead.

“Here they come!” Mira shrieked.

The four riders gunned their motorcycles and roared down the hill, zooming toward the two women.

Lexine drew her knife and stepped in front of Mira, her countenance grim, her determination revealed in the compressed line of her red lips and the jutting set of her pointed chin.

The motorcycles closed in. Three of the riders were women, the fourth a tall man. His dark hair, dyed blue, was shaped in a Mohawk, the exposed skin on either side of his mane of hair tanned a deep brown by the scorching sun. A chain belt secured his leather pants. Attached to the belt above his right hip was a brown holster containing a Browning Hi-Power 9-mm Auto Pistol.

Lexine warily watched the approaching bikers, wishing she had a gun of her own.

The three women bikers all wore black leather, and only one of them was armed with a handgun, a Charter Arms Bulldog in a shoulder holster under her left arm. The other two women were each packing a knife and a sword. One of them, a blonde, wore her knife on her left hip, while the other wore the knife on her right. Both women carried their swords in leather scabbards strapped to their backs.

“What do we do?” Mira wanted to know.

Lexine didn’t answer. There was nothing they could do.

The man with the Mohawk braked his big Harley to a stop not ten feet in front of them. The woman with the Bulldog slid to a halt six feet to their right, the blonde did likewise to their left, and the final woman circled and stopped about eight feet behind them.

Lexine frowned. They were surrounded.

All four switched off their bikes at the same moment. The resultant silence, after the rumbling clamor of the cycles, seemed unnatural.

Lexine detected a slight ringing in her ears.

Mohawk grinned, displaying a gap where two of his upper front teeth had once been, and leaned back on his Harley. “Well, well, well,” he said sarcastically, winking at the blonde. “What do we have here?”

The blonde snickered. “It’s big, bad Lex and her shadow, Mira the wimp.”

“Who are you calling a wimp?” Mira demanded defensively.

The blonde glanced at Mohawk. “Mira is all mine,” she told him.

“Whatever you want, Pat,” Mohawk said.

Lexine snorted. “How do you stand it, Cardew?” she asked the male biker.

“Stand what?” Cardew responded.

“That brown stain coating your nose,” Lexine stated.

Cardew laughed at her insult. “I always did like your sense of humor, Lex. I’m going to miss it.”

“Just like that, huh?” Lexine said.

“Yep. Just like that. I have my orders,” Cardew informed her. “Terza was real clear on what she wants done with you.”

“I’ll bet she was,” Lexine snapped.

Cardew sighed and shook his head. “You knew this was coming, Lex.

No one defies Terza. You know that.”

“Let’s get this over with!” Pat interjected. “Let’s waste these dumb bitches and head back.”

Lexine faced the blonde. “You talk real brave when the odds are four to two. But how are you when it’s one on one?”

Pat scowled. “You think you can take me?”