Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Epilogue

They had about half an hour of peace after the plane made its swan dive before the media and the law both descended on them in droves. The media wanted a good story, the law just wanted to know which one of their ugly bunch had decided it’d be fun to drag-race a plane down Highway 9, to say nothing of the explosions.

Somehow, Mo managed to smooth things over brilliantly. She duly informed the law that the “plane incident” was just a mishap, nothing to be concerned about, and wouldn’t their time be better spent looking for Adrian Ripburger? She dealt the final blow just as the last police officer was leaving.

“By the way,” she said smoothly, “I think there’s some guys in jail who aren’t supposed to be there...”

The officer blew a long sigh. “Fine,” he snapped, “they’ll be released.”

“Soon?”

“Today.”

Mo smiled. “Good.”

As the law took off and the media finally began to scatter, Ben turned to Mo. “Were you planning on telling them Ripburger’s dead?”

Mo’s smile grew wider. “Not in this lifetime,” she said, then motioned to his bike with a jerk of her head. “C’mon. We’ve gotta get your gang out of jail.”

It was a long ride over to the jail where they were keeping the Polecats. Since Highway 9’s bridge was out, they’d had to take Highway 44 over the gorge. And Highway 44 was well out of their way--a good few hours, a straight shot south and west until the road suddenly curved back to the north, over Poyahoga Gorge. It was a hell of a detour, but it was the only way across the gorge short of another jump, and they needed to get back over the gorge--Mo swore they’d be keeping the Polecats in a jail off of Highway 9, not far from the Kickstand.

And sure enough, they pulled up to the prison in the late afternoon, just as the Polecats were piling out, collecting the stuff that had been confiscated, sorting out their bikes and checking them over. As Ben and Mo hopped off his bike, Darrel walked over to them and clapped Ben on the shoulder.

“Man, that was some good maneuvering, Polecat. I thought we’d never get outta there.”

Ben just shrugged. “Had to happen sometime.”

Darrel chuckled darkly. “That’s what you think.” He paused, his face growing drawn and serious. “Look, Ben, this whole thing...if I hadn’t bought Ripburger’s excuses, man, we wouldn’t’ve--”

“Don’t sweat it,” Ben answered. “You didn’t end up in a dumpster because you thought you were really going out back for a ‘little chat.’”

Darrel chuckled again. “That’s true, man. I guess I’m not the only one around here who’s too trusting.”

A dark glare from Ben made him change the subject after that. He looked for something else to talk about, fast, and found it--Mo, standing next to Ben’s bike still, slightly removed from the scene. She was watching the Polecats sort things out with a detached, almost uncomfortable air about her.

“Hey,” Darrel said, motioning to her with a jerk of his thumb, “who’s that? Don’t tell me you finally got yourself an old lady. You’re not goin’ soft on us, are you? I mean, I know she’s a pretty sight, but--”

“That’s Mo,” Ben said flatly.

“Okay...”

“Maureen Corley.”

Darrel’s eyes went wide. “As in--holy shit, Ben. Either you’ve got better taste in women than I thought, or you’re insane.”

“I think it’s a little of both,” Mo said, walking over with a smirk on her face. “Ben, are we going to get this show on the road or what? Looks like it might rain.”

“Don’t be crazy,” Darrel said, shaking his head. “It never rains in the summer.”

Ben only nodded at her, ignoring Darrel for the time being. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

They ended up in the Kickstand not long after that, as twilight and a heavy rainfall was descending. Besides, they’d decided they could use a drink or three after all that had happened. So they’d retreated to the bar, wrung out their jackets, and hunkered down to sit out the storm.

“I don’t get it,” Darrel said, staring into this glass. “It never rains in the summer.”

Ben finished off his shotglass of whiskey and dropped it on the bar. Quohog dropped a refill in front of him a few seconds later. “It happens,” he grunted, taking a long drink. Then he looked at Mo, sitting at the bar next to him. Like Darrel, she was just staring into her mug of beer. She hadn’t said a thing since she’d accepted his invitation to come in from the rain. Not like she’d needed one in the first place, but he’d extended one all the same.

“Mo?”

She blinked and looked up at him, startled out of her thoughts. “What?”

He thought about his question for a few seconds, phrasing it just right. Then, “So...when are you going business suit shopping?”

She laughed weakly, though he could hardly hear her over a sudden rumble of thunder. “Tomorrow, if I can make it back to Corville. I’ve gotta go through my dad’s mansion, too, and make all the...all the arrangements.” She finally took a long, deep swallow from her mug. “You know,” she said, her voice temporarily thickened by the alcohol.

Ben only nodded. “Yeah.” A glass crashed somewhere behind them as an arm wrestling match got a little out of hand. Quohog, swearing, tossed a rag the offenders’ way with orders for them to clean up the mess.

“I’ll go get a mop,” he added sullenly, disappearing into the back storeroom.

Mo took another drink of her beer and started swirling the dregs around. “I guess they’re taking care of most of it...his--my press secretary and all. That’s nice. I guess.” She drained the dregs and kept talking, not looking up to see if Ben was still listening, not caring that Darrel was probably listening in, too. “But I’ve still gotta find somebody to read the eulogy.”

“I know a guy,” Ben answered immediately. “Father Torque. He led the Polecats before I did. Good guy.”

Mo looked up at Ben and smiled. “You think he’d be a good choice?”

Quohog came by and refilled their glasses again, a wet towel soaked through with alcohol slung over his shoulder. He was still grumbling about the mess.

Ben nodded. “Yeah.”

“All right,” she said, sounding a little more like her old self, “if you say so. And if you can get a hold of him. Don’t let me down, Polecat.”

Darrel leaned over the bar and grinned at her. “Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. Ben can take care of anything--’cept when it comes to money.” Ben glared at him, but he only laughed, picked up his drink, and wandered off elsewhere. The rest of the bar was hopping, as the Polecats were more than happy to celebrate their newfound freedom. But Ben and Mo, sitting at the bar and not saying anything, had dampened the mood more than the storm outside ever could. Ben figured Darrel must’ve gotten sick of it--not like he could blame him.

“So,” Mo said, interrupting the silence, “this Father Torque guy...”

“I’ll send him your way. Don’t worry.”

She had started to take a drink but stopped, setting her mug back down and blinking at him. “Bring him by yourself,” she said softly.

Ben downed his whiskey in one gulp. It wasn’t burning so much as it went down anymore--bad sign. But he needed this. “Mo...”

“I want the Polecats to lead the procession.” Something in her voice told him she wouldn’t be taking no for an answer. “And--I want you to be there with me, Ben. Bring Darrel if you want. I just--” She stopped herself, took a drink, and then continued. “You and my dad were friends. You should be there.”

He knew if he pressed her harder she’d just fight him harder, so he let it drop. Besides, he knew he should be there; he wanted to be there...he just didn’t want to be there there. He sighed. Complications. “Okay,” he answered at last. “I’ll be there.”

She smiled again and let out a small, relieved sigh. “Great.”

Darrel stepped in then, to Ben’s relief. “Looks like the rain’s lettin’ up.” He stayed only long enough to get a refill on his drink, then drifted back over to the drinking competition he’d been watching.

Mo took one last drink from her beer and then stood up. “I should go,” she said, sounding distracted and staring at the floor. “Everybody--the media, my press secretary--they must be going nuts looking for me. I should’ve just called for the limo when the rain started...is there a phone around here?”

“I’ll take you.” Inwardly, Ben cursed himself and swore never to drink that much again. Well, not in one sitting, anyway.

Mo’s angular face pinched into a frown. “It’s a long ride.”

“I’ve done it in a night before. No big deal.”

“You sure? I mean...” She trailed off, motioning to the rest of the Polecats.

Ben only shrugged. “Darrel’ll keep an eye on ‘em. Besides, there’s no suits around to frame them for murder.”

She laughed--the beers seemed to have done her some good. “Yeah.” Then she frowned again, still not entirely convinced. “You could just drop me off at the mink ranch. Or I could just call the limo. Or get Suzi--”

“I’ll take you,” Ben repeated slowly. “But you’d better get the hardtail put back together soon.”

She laughed again. “I’ve got a limo now, remember?” she teased, then started for the door. “So let’s go.”

They walked out onto the Kickstand’s front porch after Ben made sure Darrel could handle everything. Twilight had passed, and the clouds were just clearing such that the sky could be seen. The last drops of the rainstorm dripped on them as they headed for Ben’s bike.

A day later, the newspapers, the radio, the news networks were all announcing the funeral of Malcolm Corley, planned for the next afternoon. It was expected to be extremely well-attended, as bikers--all wearing their black mourning bands on their right arms--poured into Corville and the surrounding area from just about everywhere in the country. The law had all but given up on trying to keep tabs on them all and had gone into hiding somewhere, hoping they’d all clear out soon enough without causing too much trouble.

Early in the afternoon of the day of the funeral, the bikers, the media, and half of Corville began lining up for the procession. It was supposed to start at the Corley Mansion and wind its way through Corville, stopping at the cemetery on the other side of town--and it looked as if the procession itself might stretch that long. First in line behind the Corley limo were the Polecats, followed immediately by the Vultures--except for Suzi and a few of the others, who were waiting in front of the Corley Mansion.

Ben, Darrel, and Father Torque pulled up in front of the mansion just as Mo stepped outside. She had exchanged her worksuits and leather vests for a form-fitting black dress and matching choker. She’d taken her twin earrings off, too. Her eyes were hidden behind a pair of sunglasses and the rest of her face was completely expressionless. It reminded Ben of when he’d chased her down the highway--she’d hidden her thoughts behind tinted glasses then, too.

Mo stopped and took in the scene for a few seconds before she stepped off the front steps, walked right past them, and got into the limo. The assembled Vultures and Polecats exchanged vaguely confused glances, then got onto their bikes and surrounded the limo as the funeral procession started.

The long line of mourners was still riding through the cemetery as Father Torque was reaching the end of the eulogy. The sun was fast setting behind the trees--the hill Corley was to buried on was the only hill in the entire cemetery with even one tree--but their backs were to it, eyes focused on Corley’s coffin.

Father Torque paused for a moment and silence settled over the scene, broken only by the sound of the passing motorcycles on the road below--and the occasional muffled sob from Suzi. Mo was still standing impassively, all her emotions hidden behind her sunglasses, staring at her father’s casket. Ben had managed to put Darrel between the two of them as a sort of buffer--something about her complete silence was unnerving him.

“Life,” Father Torque continued at last, “was a game to him, and he played it by his own rules. He was a mystery to most of us...and yet an inspiration to us all. He gave us freedom... He gave us wings... He gave us wheels.” Ben bowed his head.

“Thank you, Malcolm Corley...for giving us a dream...that will never die.”

As the group broke up, Mo took her sunglasses off for the first time. Her face still kept that emotionless mask, though now she looked vaguely sad. She stopped Ben as he and Darrel were headed back for their bikes, resting a hand gently on his arm.

“Ben. Can I...” She stopped and then started again. “Er, walk me back to the limo?”

Ben looked between her and Darrel for a second, then nodded. “Yeah.” Then, to Darrel, “You go on ahead. I’ll catch up.”

“Sure thing, Ben.”

They walked over to the limo in silence. The driver, who was busy polishing a spot on the hood, saw them coming and quickly looked away. Mo opened the door and got in. After a moment’s hesitation, Ben walked around to the other side and got in, too. Both doors slammed shut at exactly the same time.

The silence that followed after that was stifling.

Mo made the first move, turning her head to look at him and speaking with an awkwardness he’d never heard from her before. “So...”

Ben looked at her. “So.” His voice was free of any nervousness or awkward tones, but he still sounded--and felt--uncomfortable.

“Uh,” she began, and then the words all came out in a rush, “maybe we could do lunch sometime next week...?”

He offered her a small smile and an optimistic, warm tone of voice. “Yeah, sure. Lunch sounds great.”

But Mo didn’t smile back. She looked away again, and when she spoke, she sounded awkward again--awkward and in need of reassurance. “Things aren’t gonna change, are they Ben?” She hesitated, then clarified. “I mean, just because I’m in charge of the company now...and livin’ in a mansion and ridin’ around in limos... That doesn’t mean we won’t spend a lot of time together, does it?”

Stifling silence descended again for a second as Ben picked his words carefully. “Look,” he sighed, trying his best to be gentle about this, “Mo... You’re in a different league now.” Her face pinched into a frown and she turned to look at him again. “You shouldn’t be hanging out with the likes of me anymore.”

“But Ben--”

Whatever she’d been about to say was lost as the limo’s phone started ringing. She sighed impatiently and, glaring at the phone, said, “Just a second!” Ben looked away as she reached for the phone.

“Hello? What? No no no, that’s crazy! Is he nuts? Look, move the meeting up to five and tell the plant foreman that I’m coming over personally to inspect those parts. I know, I know! That’s what I told him--”

The faint sound of a car door closing, very gently and very quietly, jolted her out of the conversation. She lowered the phone.

The seat next to her was empty. Sighing sadly, Maureen turned back to the phone.

“Excuse me, what was that last part? No no no, that alloy was flawed to begin with. Uh-huh. Yeah. Yeah. Yeeeah. Good, great.”

Ben didn’t expect her to follow him, and as he made his slow way back to his bike, he found that he was right. He started up the engine and looked back over his shoulder at the limo. The doors stayed shut.

I hope she’s happy.

He took off over the hill, just as the last of the sunset was fading, and went about catching up to the rest of the Polecats.