Daphne picked up a dirt bike from a rural home near Campbellton. She wasn’t about to continue her travels on it, considering she wanted to have supplies in the SUV, but she’d always wanted to try a two-wheeled rocket.

“If the apocalypse isn’t the time to try new things, then what is?” she muttered as she sat in the middle of Highway 11. She checked the strap on her helmet—despite her super-healing thing, she wasn’t keen on having a smashed-open head—and took a deep breath.

She knew the mechanics of a motorcycle, and having driven standard transmission cars all her life, knew how the gears would work. She’d also ridden a bicycle, so how hard could this be?

She kicked the starter, and the little beast roared to life. A wide grin erupted on her face at the rumbling engine beneath her. She eased the throttle open, and as the bike picked up a little bit of speed, lifted her foot from the ground.

It wasn’t as difficult to balance as she’d thought, and when she hit about fifty, it was easier to keep it steady. She eased it faster, the wind whipping against her bare arms.

This must be what it feels like to fly. She stayed at a respectable eighty kilometres, though it felt more like a hundred and fifty while being so exposed on top of the vehicle. She leaned slightly to the left with the gentle slope of the curving highway, and bent forward a little, finding it easier to move with the bike that way.

When she reached Glencoe, she slowed to a stop at a little gas station and hit the kickstand, hopping out of the seat. She stretched her arms above her head, and then rubbed her thighs for a moment.

“Yeah, definitely won’t be riding this thing across the country,” she muttered. She wasn’t sore, but she could see how after extended riding she’d end up bowlegged and stiff. But she definitely wanted to bring it with her, for some fun.

The store was locked, but the front door was glass. She found an unlocked car around the side and dug around in the trunk until she found the tire iron nestled next to the spare tire.

She swung at the door, and a spiderweb pattern crackled across it. She closed her eyes and turned her head, and then jabbed at it with the tip of the metal. At the sound of shattering, she turned back and then reached in to unlock the door.

“Caw!” said the crow.

“I got you, don’t worry.” She waved a flippant hand and dropped the tire iron before heading inside. She looked around as her shoes crunched on the broken glass, and let out an squeak of excitement when she spied a bag of Ketchup Doritos on the chip shelf. They were her favourite chips, but only came out once a year at Canada Day. It was rare anyone had them longer than a few months, let alone the following spring, unless they’d come in early and the shop owner had started stocking them.

She didn’t think too much on it, grabbing the bag and tearing into it. As soon as the ambrosia hit her tongue, she moaned with satisfaction, munching on the crispy treat. She passed an old dead hot dog display with some green-looking meat and snatched up a bag of peanuts from beside the cash register.

“Buddy, you’ll never guess what I found,” she declared as she emerged. “These are the best fucking chips on the planet. I know you care more about the peanuts, though.” She tossed a handful on the pavement, and her ebony-feathered friend swooped down to pick apart the shells as Daphne crunched away at her prize.

She peered around at her surroundings, and then spotted a sign across the road that boasted Sugarloaf Bike Park with an arrow pointing back down the highway.

She smiled through a mouthful of ketchup and cheese, and tossed the rest of the peanuts to her buddy.

*  *  *

Daphne sat on the dirt bike, staring down the packed path before her. When she’d entered the provincial park, it became clear that the bike trails were built for bicycles, not motorcycles. She’d imagined an arena-type place with jumps and whatnot for people to bomb around on.

This was a maze of twisty trails through trees and over bridges built with banks so that cyclists could go all out in the backcountry.

“Fuck it, who’s gonna stop me?” She took a deep breath.

“Caw!” cried the crow.

“You don’t count,” she huffed, and kicked the engine to life. She checked her helmet strap one more time, and then pushed off down the hill.

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Before she reached the first curve, Daphne’s veins turned to ice at the realization that this had been a terrible idea. She considered whether she should just leap off of the bike and save the trouble of attempting to round the corner, but in her deliberation the earth moved beneath her too quickly.

The sound of the groaning engine and skidding tires in the dirt overtook her, dust kicking up every which way, and then she flew through the air, hurtling into a copse of trees.

In the split second before her body wrapped itself around a thick trunk, her senses kicked into overdrive, and for once she wished they hadn’t—being able to acutely feel every bone in the right side of her body shattering was the last thing she ever wanted to feel.

*  *  *

Pine trees look so much softer than they actually are, Daphne thought, blinking lazily at the branches above her. The sunlight filtered through the needles, and squinting took enough energy that she felt faint.

How… her thoughts trailed off, sluggish and weak, and then she tried to move.

Pain shot through her body like an electric shock, and she couldn’t see anymore. She forgot how to breathe, her heart forgot how to beat, and for a moment she was suspended in time, knowing nothing but the screams of every nerve ending, the all-consuming agony that was her existence.

*  *  *

The sun hung low on the horizon when Daphne came to. She managed a groan, hissing as she shifted slightly and then remembered not to move.

How many fucking bones did I break? Her throat burned and she tried to muster up some saliva to swallow, but her mouth felt like sandpaper. Not your smartest moment, D, she chastised herself, and closed her eyes.

She wondered vaguely if there were any predators roaming around the provincial park, waiting for broken idiots to slam into trees so they’d have fresh meat to eat.

“Caw!” said the crow.

“Let me know if I’m gonna—” she rasped, and then dissolved into a shallow coughing fit, ribs screaming with the movement. The edges of her vision vignetted like an old photograph, and she struggled to control her lungs and body. Let me know if I’m gonna get eaten, she thought, staring desperately up at her dark-feathered friend.

In truth, she wasn’t even sure if it was the same crow. It was unlikely it was, considering how far she’d come. Uncanny, though, that she happened to attract them wherever she went.

It was nice to have something to talk to, though, despite the fact it couldn’t understand her. She justified her reason for thinking at it that it wasn’t any more insane to assume the crow could hear her thoughts than it was to think it understood English.

It let out a noise akin to a whicker, and settled down on the branch.

It was satisfying at least to pretend that it would be watching over her while her body stitched itself back together.

As if on cue, there was a sharp snap and Daphne’s vision went white as her hip exploded.

Stones ground together inside of her body, creaking and groaning and Fuck that fucking hurts motherfu—

The scream that tore from her guts deafened her, and then there was nothing.

*  *  *

The sun was bright overhead when Daphne came to, sluggish and groggy. She squinted, and this time could barely peel her tongue from the roof of her mouth.

When she shifted this time, her body didn’t erupt in white-hot fire, and she managed to pull herself up into a sitting position.

“Caw!” said the crow, and she took a deep breath, giving it a nod since she didn’t trust that her voice would work. She desperately needed water.

At least I didn’t crash too far from the start of the trail, she thought. There’d been a little rest station back there, and she was ready to just stick her open mouth beneath a tap.

When she got to her feet, something threw her off-balance, and she stared dumbly down at her left arm. Where it should have been hanging at her side, her forearm stuck out at an unnatural angle, her hand dangling there, useless.

Oh, fuck. Her head swam, and she nearly fell back to the ground. She poked at the bend with her right hand. It didn’t hurt. Which means it healed wrong. Very wrong.

Her stomach churned, and a wave of nausea washed over her. First, water, she thought, focusing on her breathing. She trudged through the dirt, trying to think about anything other than the strange feeling of her misshapen arm.

After what felt like a year, she made it back to the top of the hill, and found an outdoor hose hookup on the side facing her. She fell to her knees in front of it, head swimming, and cranked open the cold water valve.

Cool liquid sprayed her in the face, and she closed her eyes, opening her mouth, relishing in the relief. She sipped slowly, being kind to her empty stomach, letting the rest run down her body to carry away the caked-sweat from her healing foray.

Dripping wet and sated, Daphne finally turned off the tap and got to her feet, investigating the rest station. There was a vending machine inside, and she used a chair leg to smash out the plexiglass barrier to get at the chocolate bars behind it. After tearing open a Snickers wrapper with her teeth and stuffing half of it in her mouth, she noticed a red plus sign on the far wall, with a first-aid kit hanging beneath it.

Holding the rest of the candy bar between her teeth, she took down the metal case and set it on the floor, fumbling with the latch. It was a fairly big kit, which made sense considering the types of injuries that could happen on bike trails such as these.

She rummaged and found a bright yellow package with Emergency Air Splint in large letters across the front. “This looks promising,” she muttered around the melting chocolate, and dug her fingernail into the side of the plastic.

She unfolded the contraption and pulled the plug on the side to let it inflate. It had straps along it so it would fit snugly around anyone's arm, and she chewed the rest of her treat thoughtfully.

This is gonna suck. She turned towards a sturdy wooden bench along the wall and dragged it out a bit, resting her cockeyed arm across the top where the messed-up seam was.

Daphne took a deep breath, gripped her wrist, and then slammed her limb down on the wood.