I started the footage anyway, even though I didn’t have the vehicle in sight. I pointed the camera down at the dirt and dust, hoping that my camera would catch some tire tracks. I slowly panned it around, showcasing the kick-up of dust.
A kick-up I couldn’t quite catch up with.
“Jesus Christ, the fuck are they driving?” I asked breathlessly.
I mounted my cell phone onto a little bar mount that I made myself. I hated the feeling of my cell phone crushing up against my body as I was driving, so it was just a way to get it out of my pocket while keeping it safe and in my purview.
But it seemed to serve very well as a camera mount.
“All right, you fuckers,” I growled as I reached down and flipped a switch on my bike, “time to catch the fuck up.”
Sure, Cap looked down on us modding our bikes. I didn’t care, though. Sometimes the extra speed and agility came in handy. Sometimes someone just needed a little bit more of a giddy-up to accomplish whatever the fuck it was they needed to accomplish.
Cap was just a stick in the mud sometimes.
My bike lurched forward, forcing me to grip the handlebars tighter just to stay on. I leaned forward, getting out of the way of the wind that threatened to carry me right off the back of my fucking bike. I revved my engine. I wanted them to know I was coming. I wanted them to know that I wouldn’t fucking stop until I had their goddamn license plate on this video for Ranger to take to town.
But fucking hell, I couldn’t catch up.
“The fuck?” I asked breathlessly.
No matter what I did, no matter what setting I toggled, I couldn’t catch up to the vehicle. The best that I got were a few tire tracks that I hoped my camera caught.
Which wasn’t good.
Because that meant whoever I was chasing?
They had a modified vehicle as well.
And it was obvious that they were in a car.
“Fuck!” I bellowed as I zoomed through the latest kick-up of dust.
I came out the other side, my head on a swivel as I waved my hand in front of my face. The grit of the dirt and grime got into my eyes, but I forced them to stay open.
I wouldn’t lose again.
I couldn’t.
We weren’t safe.
I panted for air as my bike came to a stop. I sat there, listening out for any sort of sound, but there was nothing. Some birds chirped in the distance. The sun battered down against my shoulders. The dust storm the vehicle had kicked up finally settled around me, leaving me with scratchy eyes and memories that wouldn’t go away no matter what I did.
“LIEUTENANT!”
I shook the phantom voice from my head. No one called me that any longer, I made sure of it. Sometimes it was the only way to prove that something wasn’t real.
I wasn’t a lieutenant any longer.
Lieutenants didn’t get their whole bases killed.
But then, I heard it. The smallest sound off in the distance.
Revving.
Sputtering.
A crack.
