Maverick loaded a few pounds of weed under the seats of both dirt bikes.

I held the double barrel shotgun in my hands, inspecting the word Royal marked into the side of its barrel, “How do you expect to ride that thing while wielding a shotgun?”

Maverick forced the seat down on one of the dirt bikes and yanked the shotgun out of my hands, “Pick one.”

I tugged at my burlap sack clothing, “How do you expect me to ride that while I’m wearing this?”

Maverick peered at the still unconscious bearded man, “Take that cunt’s overalls, you’ll be right.”

I shook my head, “Fuck that man, he’s probably gone commando.”

“Who cares.” Maverick answered, swinging his leg over the seat of the dirt bike.

“I do! I don’t wanna wear that scody cunts overalls.” I complained, itching my skin.

“Don’t complain then, send it.” Maverick replied, twisting his dirt bike's keys. “Start your bike and stay close. I’m gonna be quick.”

I looked at the bike, “I can’t ride.”

“It’s easy as, start it, rev it, drop the clutch, away you go. Now hurry up.” Maverick said, revving his dirtbike.

I straddled the dirt bike, twisted the key and accelerated. I stalled almost instantly.

Maverick walked his bike over to me and hopped off, lightly revving it forward.

The bearded man began to toss and turn on the cave floor. My pulse began to rise and I hopped on Maverick’s bike.

Maverick kicked my previous bike into gear and sped off out of the mouth of the cave. I followed quickly behind him.

We entered the rocky and dangerous terrain of a storm ravaged pine forest. A growl of thunder promising more rain to come. The soil below covered in dead pine needles had become a thick wet sludge that flicked up at my bare legs as we ploughed through the soil on our steel stallions.

Maverick weaved through the trees like a boxer weaving punches. I was beginning to watch him disappear into the distance, little by little. And eventually I couldn’t see him at all.

I slowed my bike down and began to look past swaying pine trees in every direction. No sign of him.

“You’ve gotta be joking!” I cursed under my breath, peering through the thick rain.

Thunder roared once more and I kicked off downhill, navigating between pines in search of my brother.

Suddenly, I began to hear the unkempt barks of a torturous orchestra, hunting dogs.

I looked over my shoulder and spotted nothing, but I knew they were close.

I spotted a pack of rancid dogs, hell hounds I would call them . Meat grinding teeth. A wicked quick pace. I needed a quick pace if I was going to save my face.

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But the only problem with keeping a quick pace was that with each inch of rising rainfall the mud began to slip away from the hillside. A brisk pace was needed, but not enough for me to crash my steel stallion.

I watched as the most deranged and feral border collie I had ever seen came belting towards me at breakneck speed.

I weaved to dodge his infecting bike and carried on along my way. But as I weaved a few more pines I caught the glimpse of six more on the side.

“Don’t hit the tree, don’t hit the trees!” I repeated to myself mentally.

Suddenly I swerved and hit a tree and flew over my dirt bike's handlebars. I flew through the air in what felt like an eternity, watching the swaying pine trees zip past me in contrasting break-neck speed.

I caught a glimpse of the albino pigeon. Undoubtedly the very same Maverick and I had spotted beforehand. I watched as I flipped past it, with its red eyes peering at me. And for some reason I felt a warm sensation in my core.

Thlet!

I sank into a deep mud bed of sludge. And later there for a good moment. That’s when the loud barks followed by advancing footsteps began to ring in my ears.

I quickly rose from my grave and scurried up the nearest pine tree, swaying about in the wind. The pack of dogs gathered at the bottom barking up at me.

“Maverick you idiot! Where are you?!” I cursed, as fear began to override my soul.

A sharp whistle sounded from a slight distance. And after it the momentary sound of boots making their way through the mud sludge towards my tree.

“Well that’s one of them, where’s the other?” asked a deep gravelly voice.

“He’s gone beyond the border. We’ll have to call up Shane to round up his boys and shut the gates.” answered a sharp piercing voice.

The footsteps continued towards me, the dogs barked continuously.

I asked myself an evil ultimatum, “What’s worse, mauled to death or shot?”

“You all good up there lad? Getting cozy are ya?” laughed the deep gravelly voice, aiming a hunting rifle up at me.

I tried to climb further up the pine tree, the dogs bleeding barking still ringing in my ears. “Is this it?” I thought to myself, hugging the tree tightly.

The other man approached the tree and produced a chainsaw. He then ripped it, but it didn’t work.

He then tried again but it didn’t work, “Stay here,” he said looking up at me, “And keep an eye on him, I need to get some gas.”

The chainsaw welder then walked back to his quad bike and began to dig through a duffel bag that was tied on the back.

I felt the branches growing weak underneath my weight, they began to bend. I squeezed the thick trunk with all my might as the man came walking back over with his chainsaw.

He then went to rip it again, so I closed my eyes and braced for impact. Suddenly I heard the grunt of a chain, but it sounded further away than what I would have expected.

I heard the hell hounds bolt off in one direction. I looked down and noticed that the rifle welder was now looking off in the near distance, “Oi!” He yelled, before aiming his rifle.

The chainsaw stood slack jawed watching as the grunt of a chain began to near.

“Cut the damn tree down!” the rifleman ordered.

The chainsaw man ripped the chainsaw once more and began to near the tree.

My grip began to loosen under the slick wet branches. I felt that my life was going to come to an end. When suddenly a loud bang echoed through the woods, and the chainsaw man stopped.

“Dean!!!” the chainsaw man yelled, observing his friend dropped from a shotgun blast to the leg by none other than my brother Maverick.

Maverick weaved the tree’s, while the chainsaw man hid behind a tree a bit further off, waiting for his arrival.

I felt this was my chance. If I was ever going to have a chance then now was the time. I dropped to the sludge below and began to run through the woods, no target in sight.

Meanwhile Maverick kept up the pace on his dirtbike with the bloodthirsty hellhounds on his tail.

I found my dirtbike laying on the side of one tree and with all my strength laid it up straight. I then twisted the keys, revved it and dropped the clutch, heading off on my way once more.

As I ploughed through the pine tree maze once more, the chainsaw welder appeared from behind the tree and swung at my head with a ferocious swing.

I quickly ducked and missed the churning saw, and carried on about my way. No way am I going to die here now, Not today. I repeated to myself as I entered the clearing of the pine tree valley.

The valley was paved with a gravel path, narrow and swept of loose fragments of stone. Worn down with the passage of heavy machinery.

In the distance I could see Maverick nearing the end of the path, an open forestry gate guarded by one man.

I rev’d the bike and bolted towards the gate, If he closes that gate I’m a dead man. I told myself as the large gate beckoned closer.

Maverick zipped through the gate as quick as lightning. The guard rose up from his jug of coffee and quickly rushed to crank the gate down.

I sped up as fast as I could, I could almost taste freedom, the gate closing, my dirtbike my rightful passage.

I tucked my head close to the bike's engine but never touched it. I could feel the hot engine about to singe off my eyebrows.

The guard cranked as quick as he could, but I revved my engine even more, and as fate would have it; I managed to pass through the gate as well.