Richard followed his gaze.
Far down the highway, a faint black shape disappeared into heat shimmer.
Richard turned pale.
"What did you give her?"
Arthur smiled.
"Forty dollars worth of freedom."
Richard hit him.
Arthur fell against a wrecked fender.
Then Richard ran toward his SUV.
By the time he entered the highway, Chloe had several minutes' lead.
It was enough.
For now.
The desert opened around her.
Barstow disappeared behind distant hills.
Chloe rode east.
The sun lowered.
Orange light turned mountains into jagged silhouettes.
Wind pulled her hair behind her.
Her split lip hurt.
Her ribs hurt.
Her hands began aching from the vibration.
None of it mattered.
She was moving.
For almost two hours the Harley survived.
Chloe avoided major highways when she could.
She chose older desert roads.
Less traffic.
Fewer patrols.
The fuel gauge did not work, so she estimated consumption.
The tank was small.
She stopped once at an isolated gas station.
Seven dollars of fuel.
A bottle of water.
She kept the engine running while paying.
The cashier stared at the motorcycle.
"That thing yours?"
"It is today."
The cashier laughed.
"You brave or stupid?"
Chloe looked toward the road.
"Still figuring it out."
She left before he could ask more.
Darkness came quickly.
The Mojave changed after sunset.
Heat vanished.
Cold rose from the desert floor.
Chloe had not packed a jacket.
Her thin T-shirt offered little protection.
Her hands became stiff.
Worse, the Harley was changing.
At first the vibration had merely been unpleasant.
Then it became violent.
A grinding noise appeared somewhere near the primary case.
The headlight flickered.
Oil sprayed her left boot.
Chloe knew machines.
She knew the difference between normal suffering and mechanical death.
This motorcycle was dying.
"Come on," she whispered.
Another mile.
Then another.
The Nevada line remained far ahead.
"Just a little farther."
The headlight dimmed.
Then brightened.
The engine coughed.
Chloe twisted the throttle.
"Please."
The word disappeared in the wind.
A metallic crack erupted beneath her.
Then everything happened at once.
The rear wheel locked.
The bike snapped sideways.
Chloe screamed.
She squeezed the clutch.
Corrected.
The back tire skidded across asphalt.
Sparks erupted.
The massive machine began fishtailing.
Left.
Right.
Left again.
Chloe fought the handlebars with every ounce of strength.
The shoulder rushed toward her.
The motorcycle left the pavement.
Gravel exploded.
The front wheel struck soft dirt.
The Harley leaned dangerously.
Chloe shoved with her left leg.
Pain shot through her knee.
The bike straightened.
Then stopped.
Silence.
For several seconds Chloe remained seated.
She could not breathe.
White smoke poured from the lower engine case.
The smell of burned rubber and oil surrounded her.
She slowly released the handlebars.
Her fingers would not straighten.
"No."
The word barely came out.
She tried the starter.
Nothing.
Again.
The engine clicked once.
Dead.
"No."
She climbed off.
"Come on."
She kicked the engine.
Pain exploded through her toes.
Chloe shouted and stumbled backward.
"Stupid!"
Her voice disappeared into the desert.
She grabbed her backpack.
No cell phone.
No nearby lights.
No buildings.
Only road and darkness.
Richard was somewhere behind her.