The virgin asphalt roared by, inches from Seph’s feet. Her bike hummed between her thighs, but the wind rushing past her helmet was by far louder than her electric motorcycle. On the poorly-maintained Michigan roads she usually had trouble hearing herself think over the rumble of her tires on the pavement. However, whatever dark gods governed the Michigan Department of Transportation had seen fit to resurface the 80-mile stretch of M-37 that wound south through the Huron-Manistee National Forest. Seph loved the sight of the trees whipping by – travelling through the tunnels formed by arching boughs always made her feel as if she was riding to another world. Sometimes she would pull off the road to relax in a hammock, wheeling her bike behind some shrubbery and using a camouflage solar tarp to hide the pomegranate-red of her motorcycle among the foliage.

The thought furrowed her brow and she grit her teeth in annoyance, suppressing the urge to gun the accelerator.

Don’t think about her. She chose the colours, but it’s still my bike.

 She was riding to escape and didn’t want any reminders of… her. Not that Seph could get away. The greens and golds of her motorcycle armor were as smothering as they were protective. She felt the familiar tightness growing in her chest and pulled over in the shadow of a massive red maple tree. She ripped off her helmet (pomegranate-red with gold pinstripes, to match the bike) and armored jacket, and fought off the impending panic attack. The cracked bark of the maple was rough against her cheek and bare shoulder, and she found the sensation oddly comforting.

Calm water.

The one thing the shrink had actually managed to pound through her thick skull.

I am calm water.

The poor lady had tried, but Seph had been in too deep to really listen.

I am the still lake before dawn.

Eventually, her turbulent heart slowed down enough that she didn’t think she’d have a panic attack. Seph sank to the ground, bits of bark raining down around her as her tank top scraped its way down the tree.

I should go back. This is a mistake. She’s going to kill me.

Her hands tore at the ground beside her, fingers crushing dead leaves and the occasional twig.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

I could just say I had bike trouble, and my phone got run over. That’s why it took me longer to make the delivery.

That part wasn’t even a lie. Her phone had been crushed to sand by the first 18-wheeler she’d found after making the drop. Seph even let herself consider it for a minute before getting herself under control.

No. I’ve been setting this up for months. I have the money. Six months of hiding in the Upper Peninsula shouldn’t even put a dent in 50 grand. If I have to, I can sell the bike. But I’m not going back. She can’t make me.

She brushed the dust from her hands and ran them through her sweaty black hair. Her hands, still in their fingerless riding gloves, started to shake.

Anyway, it’s not like I can explain away the lojack I pulled out of the bike and threw in Honey Creek. Or the second one, the one that she thought I didn’t know about. There’s no turning back now.

Seph pulled a wad of cash from her jacket. The rest was in her saddlebags, and she’d checked all of it for tracking devices too.

I’ve been so careful. It’s going to be okay.

Stowing the slightly damp wad back in her green and cream jacket, she stood and stretched. The breeze felt good on her skin, and she wanted to enjoy it before she got going again. There wasn’t much point in an armored riding outfit if she wasn’t going to wear it, but it had been the hottest August on record. For now, she wheeled her bike further into the undergrowth and covered it with the solar tarp. The tarp wouldn’t do much good under the thick canopy, but any charge would let her go that much further before she had to stop again.

Especially because there aren’t many charge cafes up north. I think they still use gasoline in some places of the UP.

She shuddered at the thought and pulled her helmet on so she could use its Heads-Up Display to check for charging stations near her. The disposable cell phone she’d bought didn’t have many bells and whistles, but she’d sprung for a Bluetooth-enabled model so it could link to her HUD. She waited for it to recognize her brainwaves, then ignored the flood of colourful notification lights cluttering the edges of her vision. They made her chest tighten, but she forced herself to calm a little. Seph willed up a map of the rest stops between herself and her destination. There was a rest area in a couple of miles, but only two stops between here and the Mackinac Bridge had the little lightning-bolt-and-coffee-cup icon that she needed.

She pinged her bike to see how far her current juice would take her and winced. She’d need at least thirty minutes of solar charging at the current rate to make it to the next useful stop.

Fine. I could use some relaxation anyway.

Five minutes later, she was ten feet off the ground, listening to the rustling of the leaves above her. Her hammock swayed gently with the trees, and the motion soothed her as it always did. She loved forests. They always seemed powerful and safe, as if anything that tried to follow her in would be stopped by her watchful arboreal guardians.

They worked their magic now, draining away some of her tension and leaving Seph exhausted.

Well, if I’m going to be here anyway…

Setting an alarm, Seph wriggled into her jacket and clipped her helmet to the front. Exhaustion pulled her into sleep before she even finished getting comfortable.

And woke in near-total darkness to see the ground rushing up to greet her.