The West was showing her beauty again as the I25 departed from the ever-stretching flat landscape and gave way to the power of God's created mounts. A Roar escaped the V-twin engine as its speed touched 90 miles per hour, passing the knolls and hungry for the mountains. Nothing was going to stop the black steel horse. The same went for its rider. It showed as the hand gripping the throttle threw itself back, causing the Chief to bellow in agreement. The wind whipped with more force, accepting the increase of acceleration. Its chill would have raised the skin of any ordinary man, especially as this same wind grew colder with the now rapidly approaching Rockies.
To get there it took going through New Mexico roads. Thankfully, traffic was low at this time of the year. Yet this still required the bobbing and weaving of the Chief between the slower vehicles. Dare’s mind was absolute. Unconsciously, he thought of nothing but staying between yellow lines and the letter detailing this new job.
It had come from nowhere without an address and a call to come urgently. It was not just the abruptness of the letter that drove Dare to question this unusual request. The flare of the writer's penmanship and flamboyance of the writing drove him almost to madness. This was someone he knew, yet without meaning to a name, it continued to escape him. Maybe it was this very reason that drove him to leave so immediately. Some may say it tasted a little of fate, to Dare it savored wonderfully of opportunity. Strange, too, was that the letter itself was addressed to him and sent to his mailbox. Usually, the contracts come through an informant, with no meetings, no-nonsense, just the task and payment. The abnormal method this client used to reach him left Dare moving toward this new job with a near-hellish zeal. High octane fed the blood of the rider and the gasoline of the cruiser. This made New Mexico freeways nothing short of a new Autobahn for them both.
Colorado was getting close, only about a few more miles away, and he would be crossing state lines. The only objection to his drive was needing to feed the metal stallion. His Indian motorcycle was the most reliable thing Dare owned, save the tools he kept incessantly clean. Thereby if the Chief needed to eat, he made sure to satisfy it. The nearest town just over the border is called Raton. Alma was his true destination. There he was to meet the client, and Raton, unfortunately, would be the perfect last stop before arrival. Dare had never been to Alma. All he knew was that it was some tiny hamlet stuck knee-deep in the Rocky Mountains.
Raton on the other hand, Dare had visited on too many occasions. He knew it to be a nasty and decrepit place. Little wonder then that it drew the crowds he was hired for. Whether he wanted to revisit or not, it didn’t matter. A fill-up was required, and no way around it, with a decision made, the town made its dismal appearance. Dare let loose an unconscious grunt. He had spilled a fair share of blood here, and the memories of the assailants and all they had done still felt fresh. Fresher than he would care to appreciate.
Dare’s best option came just as he came out from an overpass. The dilapidated Shell gas station looked a sorry sight but a blessed one all the same.
The nomadic landmark of a station was surprisingly busy. Several cars were tightly packed up front, and a recently parked group of half a dozen bikers graced an open lot. Removing the key from the ignition, he made his way to perform the ever-too-familiar task of filling his bike. It was with such mundane tasks such as these that seemed to bring her back. Even in the deepest repression, her memory could not keep her back. Dare could not help but embrace her unconsciously, as he remembered how he did physically.
“That’s quite the bike you got their friend,” Dare was ripped from his thoughts at the sound of the approaching biker. Angered and annoyed, he left with no desire to talk.
Trying to sound as uninterested as possible, he dryly replied, “Thanks, friend.”
It was not all that uncommon that Being overly rude could get you killed.
“You don’t happen to be interested in selling or trading that little beauty, are you?” Dare detached his gaze from the ground to look into the eyes of the man. Within an instant, the hairs on his neck shot straight up. Not in fear, no, this was an apprehension that he was all too familiar with. The kind that drew your stomach into your chest and sent adrenaline running wildly into every vein and artery. Instantly all his muscle fibers contracted fiercely, readying himself for even the slightest potential of conflict.
Looking now at the whole image before him, he looked to be like any run-of-the-mill biker. Yet he presented himself in a much more sophisticated manner. Standing tall he was well over 6 feet in height, muscular even underneath all the leather clothing. What stood out the most was the eyes. Ones that he had seen more than any other. Deep-set into his face and red, red like the darkest blood-filled rubies. However, that wasn’t what set him off first; it was the smell. An iron and copper stench lingered on him, more than in just his breath, it seemed to cover him as if he had bathed in it. That is the curse of the nose he carries, or it could be what saves him.
Peeling away, Dare finally responded, " No, sorry. It's kind of a keepsake. Now, if you will excuse me, I must fill my bike now.”
Not looking back, he stepped through the door and completed his business with the cashier. The cool air hit him as if he had forgotten. The year was growing older faster than he had ever known, and Colorado could almost be seen from here, except for the twilight that was now taking the life out of the day. Instinct had him patting his jacket to verify his piece was still there. It was warranted seeing the same group as before lingering around his bike.
“Old man, are you sure you can be swayed to part with your ride here?” The man’s eyes sparkled with excitement. Besides, I have been told I can be very persuasive.” A smile now crossed his face, revealing teeth as white as pearls, with canines beginning to drop and reveal their sinister design.
Walking undaunted to the bike, Dare opened his black leather jacket to reveal the .45 caliber Kimber holstered under his armpit. " It’s funny because I have been told the same.” Putting the jacket back down, he showed no emotion, only continuing his task of filling the bike.
“Don’t make me kill you, old man, you might not taste very nice, and you smell like a dog, but that bike will be so sweet between my legs.” Perversely groping his inner thighs, he moved closer and closer, a posse following right behind.
The night grew darker, as the unholy group grew closer, revealing their predatory mouths, each dripping with excitement. Dare had just inserted the nozzle into the tank with one hand while his left grabbed the bowie knife sheathed behind his back. Adrenaline grew more and more throughout his veins as the anticipation of the fight grew. The polished antler handle felt comforting as his hand now white-knuckled it. One last smile escaped the leader’s lips, turning the moment hot in an instant and causing the others to pounce.
Flesh and sinew gave way to the bite of his knife as it sunk deep into the soft tissue of the first member’s lower neck. The attacker dropped instantly, his mouth wide in fear. With inhumane speed, Dare’s Kimber filled the gapping mouth, a flick of a finger sent the silver-blessed bullet through its skull and into the concrete. The undead eyes rolled back, and the body dropped. Gunsmoke filled the air, with the ear-piercing crack of the gun following in its wake. Dead companion or not the others swarmed upon him without a second thought. A reaction that had been fine-tuned over decades now gained use as the second leapt and was filled with two bullets—one to the chest and the second to the middle of the head. Black ooze bubbled from the wounds, and smoke reached out, showing the blessings effect. Just as quickly as the first two, Dare finished off the 3rd and 4th without little effort. However, the fifth stopped as he saw the companions lying dead before them.
“I see you know what you are doing, old man, and what we are. You still have two to go, and neither of us are pushovers. Who would have thought I would have so much fun tonight?” His tongue licked his teeth as the last words exited his lips. Flicking his finger towards Dare’s direction, the previously halted demon gave chase again.
He lunged, but Dare shifted to his left, almost laying himself across the bike. Without much time to react, the beast had fallen upon him again. To protect the bike from falling on it, he caught the man and leaped upon him. Razor-sharp nails dug themselves into his back, piercing deep into the skin as the mouth grew closer to his neck. It was supremely strong, so much so that the animal canines sunk deep into him, and a last-ditch throw ripped him off, along with the demon’s own release.
A scream released from its mouth and much of the blood he had tasted. “He’s a dog! A foul loathsome dog. I can’t take it! You fight him, Kerus. No stupid bike is worth this.” The man began to trail off, spitting Dare’s blood along the way.
The Kimber had fallen several feet away, but a leather holster concealed on his left hip still had something to say about this departure. His right hand met cold steel and wood as the all too familiar Colt was removed. “Hey boy, you might be done, but my friend ain’t.”
In a flash, the Colt went from hip to aim, and the trigger followed just as fast. Dare was still bleeding, but the beast lay dead on the ground. The peacemaker had done its job, but it wasn’t finished yet. There was still work to be done, the undead had been taken care of, save one. Going this far would be for nothing if this Kerus didn’t also meet his master in Hell.
“Kerus was your name, right? I appreciate knowing a man’s name before I kill him, it makes it easier to give your name to God for judgment. But I guess in the end, you're no man, are you?” Red eyes became fire as the words in sighted rage within the fiend, he lashed out with strength and power.
Dodging all his advances, Dare began to tease and taunt with his constant feints and parries. Colt still in hand, he used it to strike back at the clawed hands, the cross-covered peace causing demonic skin to hiss and pain to be expressed in Kerus’s eyes. The last maneuver led Dare to go low, missing a clawed hand to his face. Coming up fast, he grabbed the beast's neck and threw him down hard to the ground, creating fissures in the concrete.
The Colt was brought forward between the eyes of his attacker, “Let the big man downstairs know I am fighting back.” A soft pull of the trigger was all it took, and the eyes, already lifeless, gave themselves up again for the second time.
Dusting himself off and adjusting his coat, he removed the gas nozzle just in time as the gas came to level at the top of the tank. Stretching across the bike, he got comfortable and let the engine give its call. Cleaning would be done, but he would be long gone. He had a job, and more than ever, it seemed something was different about this one.
—
Dawn was rising, but it hadn’t even thought of coming over the mountains. Alma was several hours away from Raton, and thankfully, nothing obstructed his ride as he made it to the address just in time. Before Dare rose a lavish brick mansion built majestically into the side of the foothill. All the windows were black or covered by shutters, inaudibly telling all to stay away. It was odd to be beside something so incredible but, at the same time, feel so deeply that you wished to leave. Though he knew who this might be, the sight of the location caught him off guard. Whether he liked it or not, he had to get this done. The excellent iron knocker rested upon the door resolutely. He grabbed it and rapped the door loudly. In seconds, an all too familiar face looked upon him.
The slender man stood one hand in a pocket, the other caressing a cigarette. “I thought it might be you who I called for help, Wyatt.”
“Doc, I can’t say I am surprised you're still alive, you un-killable bastard.” Trying not to show his genuine surprise, Wyatt embraced his old friend.
“Well, why don’t we go inside and talk about this job I have for you.” Motioning into the house the old friends left to talk about another late-night ride.
