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For your reading pleasure.

The Ride Home

When we rolled up to the clubhouse in Biker Heaven, the bros were outside to greet us. Bone Crusher climbed off his scooter and Blowout stepped up to him.

“Thanks, bro, for coming after me,” he said.

“Forget about it, bro. I was stuck on the Lost Highway and Cave Man risked everything to come for me. I wanted to return the favor,” Bone Crusher said.

“It seemed like you guys were gone forever,” Chico said. “How’d things go?”

“We lost Cowboy. Once his energy solidifies he’ll be back,” I said. “How’s the reunion going?”

“We’re having a hell of a good time, but I’m worried about the bros on Earth. What happened to them after the crash?”

“Time is different up here. They’re still at Sturgis. We’ll party here for a little while longer and then head down there. We’ve got some funerals to go to,” I said.

“You mean I get to go to my, own funeral?” Chico asked.

“Yeah, bro. Everyone does,” I said.

We entered the clubhouse and bellied up to the bar as the Big Bopper came out on stage and began to play. Buddy Holley came out onto the stage and joined him. I saw Johnny Cash waiting in the wings. Pulling a flask out of my vest pocket, I took a shot and handed the flask to Chico. He took a shot. Carol joined the women dancing on top of the bar.

“Damn that’s some good shit,” Chico said.

“You guys need some of the good stuff,” Little Danny Boy said and took a bottle of, the green label Jack from the bar.

“You know I love my Old Number 7, but you’re right. Green Label goes down smooth,” I said.

“It beats the shit out of any whiskey I’ve ever had on Earth,” Chico said.

“Yeah, old Mr. Daniels has had a long time to perfect his brew up here,” I said.

Once the concert wound down, I glanced at Little Danny Boy and said, “Are you ready to roll?”

“Yeah, we’ve got some bros back on Earth that need our help,” he said.

I slapped Chico on the back and said, “Let’s hit the saddle. You only thought you missed the Black Hills Rally at Sturgis. Only, on this run, you’ll be incognito.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Chico asked.

“You’re dead bro. Live people on Earth won’t be able to see you,” I said.

We crossed the bar room, stepped outside, and climbed onto our spirit bikes. Firing up the machines, we rolled down the King’s Highway heading to a rendezvous with some bros back on Earth.

***

We touched down on the main drag running through Rapid City South Dakota. Little Danny Boy led us down the street, took a few turns, and then we pulled into the hospital parking lot. We parked our spirit bikes near the main entrance to the emergency room. I noticed six motorcycles parked near the curb. Several ambulances pulled in without their lights and sirens. The attendants began to unload the bodies. We stood and watched them wheel the remains of our bros into the hospital.

“Now that’s plain weird. My body is in one of those bags,” Chico said.

“Who are those guys by the door?” Lead Belly asked.

I glanced up noticing a group of little demons in their black robes. “Don’t mind those guys. They’re on the hunt for souls. Chico, you guys need to stay away from them though. Let the Halo Riders deal with them. You’re not safe until your body is under the ground. We’ll put you guys in the middle of us away from those little bastards,” I said and we headed toward the door. A chilly wind blew leaves across the parking lot.

When we reached the front door, we pulled our gats and opened up on the Devil’s misfits. Balls of blue lightning and red laser blast filled the air, but no one else saw it. When the evil little demons took a hit they would explode in a blinding flash. Once we had the entranceway cleared, we passed through a set of glass doors.

“That was cool,” Chico said when we passed through the glass.

“Yeah, it’s kind of cool when you can go through a door without having to wait for it to open,” I said.

I saw a group of bikers standing near the rear of the building. A couple leaned up against the wall and they all had sorrowful looks on their faces. Among the older ones, the bro named Little Mike was talking on a cell phone. “There they are,” I said and headed over. Little Mike looked up and looked right at me. For a minute his eyes widened and his jaw dropped. “Damn. I think- he saw me,” I said.

Little Mike looked down at the floor and then looked back up. He shook his head, put his phone away, and then went back to talking with the prospects.

“What?” one of them asked. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Little Mike let out a nervous laugh. “Maybe I did. I called the Baptist church in Harlem Springs, plus I contacted all the families. Pastor Bill is trying to raise the money to bring the bodies home.”

We headed over to join our brothers, but of course, they couldn’t see us. “Be at peace, my brother,” I said laying a hand on Little Mike’s shoulder. I saw him shudder. The Halo Riders and the bros who died in the crash moved among the remnant of the Road Dogs from the Harlem Springs. They tried to offer comfort, even though they couldn’t see us. I looked up as a gray-headed doctor wearing a green lab coat stepped up.

“Gentlemen, I am Doctor Gates. I am so sorry for your loss. I have made contact with the local funeral home. They will move the bodies over there. Have you contacted the relatives of the departed?”

“I finished with that,” Little Mike said.

“If you would, our admittance staff needs the names of all the deceased. Also, we have a minister on duty at the chapel if you would care to take part in any grief counseling.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Little Mike said.

I noticed the Grim Reaper leaning against the wall in a dark corner looking out from under his hood. I stoked the butt of my gat riding underneath my vest. “Not this time old-timer. These, don’t belong to you,” I said.

“That’s him. I kept seeing that dude in my rearview for the entire trip up from Harlem Springs,” Chico said.

“That’s old death himself: The Grim Reaper. He was after your souls. That’s why we need you guys to stay close until we get you planted good and proper,” I said.

We followed the bros up to the admittance desk. A black woman in a white nurse’s uniform handed Little Mike a stack of papers. “I am so sorry for what happened to your friends. If you’ll fill out these forms, you can be on your way. Once the bodies are at the funeral home, Mr. Chambers from Chambers Funeral Home will give you a call.”

Little Mike took the papers from the nurse and started filling them out. Finished with that, he turned to the rest of the Harlem Springs chapter. They gathered around him and he said, “Let’s roll on out to the Bulldog Campground. This has been a long fuckin’ day.”

Little Mike led his somber crew right through us heading for the exit.

“My heart bleeds for them,” Chico said.

“I know. It’s a hard thing when you lose a brother,” I said.

“A brother hell. They almost lost the entire chapter. Them bros are hurting,” Lead Belly said.

“I know. We’ll follow ‘em over to the campground,” I said.

“What happens to the Road Dogs now?” Chico asked.

I put my arm around Chico’s shoulder. “We’ll survive this Bro. They’ll rebuild,” I said. We headed for the door, following the bros to the parking lot. Outside, we had another fight with the little demons at the door. Little Mike and the rest of the Road Dogs that were still alive didn’t notice. They climbed on their scooters. We climbed on our spirit bikes and followed them to the interstate. They headed west on interstate 80 and we followed the bros back toward Sturgis. They pulled off the interstate and rolled into the Bulldog Campground after midnight.

Little Mike and the two remaining patched members sat down in a couple of folding chairs. They had a beer, while the prospects set up camp. I reached down into the ice chest and pulled out a beer. When the bottle touched my hand, it disappeared from the material world. I took out another and passed the beers out to the rest of the brothers from the other side.

“You think they’ll notice the missing beer?” Chico asked.

“No. They’re too depressed. They’ll think that they drank it. Usually, I get a kick out of messing with the bros like this when they can’t see me. Right now they need our love and support. Even if they can’t see us, we’re still here for them.”

“We should pack up and head home. Sturgis will never be the same for me,” a big heavy-set biker named Two Belts said. He was one of the bros riding in the chase truck.

“That’s not right. They need to stay here for a while and party,” Chico said.

Chico stepped over to Little Mike and laid a hand on his shoulder. A chill shot down Little Mike’s spine. Chico bent down and whispered in his ear.

“No, we have to wait until we get the money to take the bodies home. That will take a while. We need to party and try to put this behind us. I know that Chico and the rest of the bros wouldn’t want us to sit around here cryin’. He’d want us to have fun. We’re at Sturgis for the Black Hills Rally. We’ll party for a few days and then take our brothers home and bury them.”

“You’re the senior patched member. I guess that means you’re our new president,” a wiry little guy with a scraggly goatee that they called Road Kill said.

“Yeah, temporarily. After we get our brothers in the ground, we’ll sit down at the table and hold church,” Little Mike said.

After the prospects finished setting up camp, one of them opened up the ice chest and said, “Damn. Where’d all the beer go?”

“There’s another ice chest filled with beer in the back of my truck,” Two Belts said.

The prospect went to the truck and brought back another ice chest. Another prospect started a campfire. Once he had the campfire going, the prospects passed out the beers to those sitting around the fire. Two Belts leaned forward holding his hands out to the warm fire. A chilly breeze blew across the land. Little Mike held up his bottle. “A toast to our fallen brothers.”

While the prospects were passing out the beer, I managed to snag a few for those of us on the other side of the graveyard.

“I’ll drink to that,” I said.

“You know, I almost feel like they’re here with us now, bro,” Two Belt said, leaning back.

Little Mike nodded. “I know what you mean. Back there at the hospital, for a second there, I almost thought I saw Cave Man. We were tight back in the day.”

“They were there, in spirit. Road Dogs in life and Road Dogs in death,” Road Kill said. The remnant of the Harlem Springs chapter finished their beer. Those of us, wearing the Halo patch, and the ones that had recently crossed over, moved among the remnant. We gave what comfort that we could. The remaining members of the Road Dogs MC drank and talked around the campfire until three AM. They staggered off to their tents as a full moon looked down over the Bull Dog campground. The smell of wood smoke from the dying fires drifted with the wind. We formed a perimeter around our sleeping bros. We watched the evil demonic eyes peering out of the darkness

The Road Dogs began to stir around noon. The prospects rekindled the fire, put a coffee pot on to boil, scrambled up some eggs, and fried bacon.

“I feel like warmed over shit,” Little Mike said.

“This will give your day a kick in the ass,” one of the prospects said handing him a coffee cup.

“What’s on the agenda for today?” Two Belts asked.

“I thought we’d roll into Sturgis and check out the vendors. Tonight we’ll party at the Broken Spoke,” Little Mike said.

After everyone ate their fill, the Road Dogs climbed onto their scooters. They hit the interstate heading into Sturgis. We rolled along behind them. Chico, and the rest of the bros that died on the freeway, rode behind the bros that were still alive. The Halo riders followed along behind guarding their back. They were still vulnerable. I didn’t want any of those evil little shits in the black robes trying to drag their souls down to hell. We already had to make one trip to Biker Hell and I didn’t feel like going there again.

Little Mike pulled off onto Main Street in Sturgis. He motored down the main drag and turned onto Lazelle Street. We motored along behind them. Little Mike found a spot on a side street to park their motorcycles, and we parked our spirit bikes beside them. Little Mike and the remaining Road Dogs climbed off their scooters. They strolled down the street heading to Lazelle St. where all the action was taking place. We strolled along behind them.

Two young women strutted past us wearing nothing but thongs on their bottoms and no tops. One had a tiger airbrushed across her breasts and another had a green Cobra painted on her chest. Chico grinned. “I love Sturgis,” he said. The bros ahead of us hooted and hollered at the women.

“I do too,” I said. “There ain’t no better place except, Biker Heaven”.

Little Mike glanced back over his shoulder.

“What?” Two Belts asked.

“I don’t know man. I got a weird feeling. I almost feel like someone is following us,” Little Mike said.

“Dude, we’re at Sturgis. There are thousands of people on the street.”

“I know man. Ever since the hospital I’ve been feeling strange,” Two Belts said.

“Seeing your brothers go down on the highway will do that to you.”

“Did you hear that?” I said to Little Danny Boy.

Little Danny Boy shrugged. “Some people are more in tune with the spirit world than others.”

“Yeah, I guess,” I said. I noticed a gray-headed biker stumbling down the road with his head down. He looked like a drug addict. An evil-looking demon that looked like a troll clung to his back. I pulled my sheath knife and drove the blade into the top of the demon’s head. It disappeared in a flash of light and a puff of smoke. The biker smiled and held his head up.

“Good work,” Little Danny Boy said.

“Thanks,” I said. We followed the bros around town, checking out the vendors for the rest of the day. Then we followed them down to the Broken Spoke Saloon that evening. The bros partied at the Broken Spoke until almost two in the morning. All though they couldn’t see us, we partied right along with them. I noticed a couple of restless spirits in the bar. They were a couple of bikers that had died a few years earlier in a motorcycle crash on their way to Sturgis. Somehow, they didn’t realize they were dead. I ambled up to them. “Hey, brother. Your time here is through,” I said.

They both looked at me and a scared look crossed their faces.

“What do you mean?” one of them asked.

“Both of you died on the road two years ago. There’s a better place. It’s called Biker Heaven. You’ll love it there.”

“Biker Heaven?” the other guy said.

“Yeah, look,” I said raising my hand toward the ceiling. A portal opened and a bright beam of white light shot down from the opening. The live people inside the bar couldn’t see it. The two restless spirits looked up and then looked back at me. A big grin spread across their faces. “Go to the light, brothers.”

Their bodies dematerialized changing into bluish-green beams of pure energy. Their essence rose, up to the ceiling, passed through the portal and the portal closed.

“That was cool,” Chico said.

We followed Little Mike and the bros back to their scooters. We motored along behind them on our spirit bikes while they headed back to the Bull Dog campground. We rumbled through the night. I noticed evil red eyes peering at us from a stand of trees near the side of the interstate. My hand stroked the butt of my gat when we pulled off the interstate and rolled into the campground for the night. Once again, the Halo riders stood sentry over the sleeping bikers. The stars shined down on us, covering the land like a warm blanket.

***

The following morning, the bros crawled out of their tents around ten-thirty. The prospects kindled a fire, made coffee, and cooked a quick breakfast. Those of us, no longer in our physical bodies gathered around, waiting for them to get their ass in gear. Finished with their breakfast, they climbed onto their scooters and hit the interstate. We followed along behind on our spirit bikes. They headed west on interstate 90, and then took a two-lane highway south to Deadwood. The highway snaked its way down into the Deadwood Gorge. It cut through the Black Hills until reaching the town itself. Deadwood was a wild, west town from back in the day, but it was now a tourist trap. People still found gold in the Black Hills. It came from the pockets of the bikers and other tourists that visited the casinos.

We followed the bros up the boulevard flanking the newly departed. Now and then we saw a few evil demons lingering in the doorways. They gave us hard looks, looking at Chico and the ones who died in the motorcycle crash.

“Why are they looking at us like that?” Chico asked.

“They want your souls,” I said. The ghosts of Wild Bill Hickok and Calamity Jane passed by. I gave them a nod. “When some people die, they are so attached to this world, that there’s nothing you can do to get them to cross over.”

After spending some time in Deadwood, the bros rolled down the highway to Mount Rushmore. Out in the woods, I heard an evil growl and saw a flash of something moving through the trees. In the right-hand lane, a woman ahead of the bros drove a three-wheeler. One of the bros pulled out and passed her. The others followed. The last rider pulled out to pass and a custom chopper came around the curve coming at the bro head-on. I goosed the throttle on my spirit bike and put myself between the bro and the dude coming at him on the chopper. When the chopper passed by, I gave his bike a little push. I moved him away from the Road Dog passing the woman on the three-wheeler. They passed each other, separated by inches. They were right next to the woman riding the three-wheeler. I back off as the bro pulled back into the right lane.

From Mount Rushmore, the bros headed down to see the Crazy Horse monument. They strolled through the museum and then stepped outside to view the statute. The ghost of wild Indians milled about with the live people. A biker with a long blond ponytail strolled by. The ghost of a big Indian with a face full of war paint pulled his knife and when through the motions of scalping the man.

I laughed. “Sorry, but that’s against the rules,” I said. “Your spirit knife won’t work on him.” Chico laughed watching the show.

We followed the bros outside and took a look at the massive, unfinished statue.

“When are they going to finish that thing?” Little Mike asked.

“In about 50 years, maybe,” Two Belts said.

I looked up at the statue and my eyes widened. Up, on the mountain, sitting on the statue was the ghost of old Crazy Horse himself.

“Speaking of the Devil, there’s the old war chief himself,” I said.

“Why doesn’t he move on to the happy hunting ground?” Chico asked.

“He’s too attached to the land. The Black Hills are still his and he doesn’t intend to leave.” I waved at the ghost of the old Indian and he waved back.

Finished at The Crazy Horse monument, the bros rode back to the campground and we followed. That night we followed them to the Buffalo Chip campground. We stood next to them watching Z Z Tops rock down the house. The loud music echoed across the campground. While the bros watched the concert, we guarded the souls of the departed. A few of the evil demons in their black robes jumped us in the middle of the concert. I grabbed one, threw him up on stage and he disappeared in a puff of smoke. Another tried to grab Chico. Bone Crusher stabbed him in his fat head, right between his horns, and sent him back to the Devil. They gave it up for a lost cause, and we enjoyed the rest of the concert.

Little Mike’s cell phone rang and he stepped away from the crowd. I listened in on his side of the conversation.

“Thank you, reverend. Tell everyone who donated money thank you too. We’ll head over to Rapid City and pick up the money from Western Union in the morning. Once we pay the bill at the funeral home, we’ll escort the bodies back to Harlem Springs. Thank you pastor and take care,” Little Mike said.

“Who was that?” Two Belts asked.

“That was Pastor Bill back home. He sent the money to the funeral home. We’ll roll out of here as soon as they get the bodies ready,” Little Mike said as Z Z Tops opened up with A Sharp Dressed Man.

***

The bros broke camp the next morning and rolled out heading east to Rapid City. Those of us in spirit form followed along behind them on our spirit bikes. After a quick breakfast at Denny’s, the bros rolled over to Wal-Mart. They picked up the money from Western Union and then headed over to the funeral home. Little Mike and Two Belts went inside and paid the owner for his services. They stepped out to the parking lot a few minutes later and joined Road Kill and the prospects.

“How soon until we’re ready to roll?” Road Kill asked.

“They’re getting the bodies ready to travel now,” Little Mike said. “We should roll out of here by noon.”

They stood in the parking lot conversing for another hour. There we a few laughs and jokes. The people from the funeral home-rolled the first coffin out to the hearse. A somber mood sank over the gathering. A tear tracked down Little Mike’s cheek. The Halo riders kept an eye out for the little demons in the black robes. We moved among the bros laying a hand on a shoulder here and there trying to give some comfort. The newly departed stood, watching their remains roll by in their coffins.

“Don’t worry about it, bro. Those old things are only rotting meat right now. Think of it like an old scooter that you traded in for a new one. You’ll like your spirit body a hell of a lot more than your old bag of bones,” I said to Chico.

“Yeah, I guess. I’m still trying to get used to things,” he said.

The funeral home attendants loaded up the bodies. They closed the rear doors; the drivers climbed behind the wheel and pulled out onto the road. The bros climbed onto their scooters. They followed along behind and the convoy hit the interstate. We took up the rear on our spirit bikes. Chico and the brothers that died in the crash rode in the middle and the Halo riders flanked them. I kept my eyes peeled watching out for the little demons in their black robes as we rolled through the Black Hills. I saw a flash of movement in the woods and saw a set of evil red eyes peering out at us from amongst the trees.

They hit us halfway to the Wyoming state line. The evil little shits came out of the woods on both sides of the road. They stormed onto the highway trying to get at the souls of our departed brothers. I pulled my gat. Little Danny boy pulled his knife and the rest of the Halo Riders surrounded the bros that died in the crash. A little demon jumped at me from the left and I shot him down. While I was dealing with him, another one jumped on my back. Little Danny Boy stabbed the little sucker in the top of his head and he burst into flames. Sonny grabbed one of the little shits by his arms and hurled it into the path of an oncoming car. The little demon exploded when he hit the ground. By the time the battle was over, the convoy was a half-mile down the road.

We caught up with the bros, crossed the Wyoming state line a couple of hours later, and hit Interstate 25 south. That evening, we pulled into a Motel 6 at Cheyenne and stopped for the night.

***

The bros were up early and had a quick breakfast at Denny’s along with the drivers from the funeral home. We parked our spirit bikes outside and the Halo Riders kept watch. We kept the souls of the departed bikers in the middle of us and didn’t let them stray too far.

“What’s got your panties in a bunch?” Chico asked me.

“I don’t know. Something doesn’t feel right. I got the feeling that those evil little bastards in the black robes are gonna hit us sometime today,” I said.

“Why? I mean, why do they keep following us?”

“You boys are fair game until your bodies get planted and laying at rest at the cemetery down at Harlem Springs. Until then, those little shits are liable to try anything. We pissed them off when we rode down to Biker Hell and brought back our bros that they took from the road. We upset the order of things and pissed off some people down below. Who knows what the powers that be of the underworld will throw at us,” I said.

Bone Crusher stepped up, taking in the tail end of our conversation. “Are you expecting them to hit us on the road like they did this morning?”

I shrugged. “No, I get the feeling that they’re gonna try something different. We need to keep on our toes.”

Bone Crusher glanced at the front door of Denny’s. The bros from the Harlem Springs chapter that were still alive stepped outside. “What about them?”

“We’ll have to keep an eye on them too. I haven’t seen the Grim Reaper lurking about, but who knows? It would be a hell of a thing if there was another crash going home.”

“We’ll have to make sure nothing like that happens. I’ll be God damned if I let one of the little SOBs in the black robes drag another bro down to hell,” Bone Crusher said. He shivered as Little Mike stepped through him. “That felt weird.”

“I know. I hate when they do that when we are traveling incognito like this.”

“The thing is, when Little Mike passed through me, I felt what he’s feeling right now. I felt the sorrow. These guys are hurting, over what happened on the freeway,” Bone Crusher said.

“I know. The funeral will give them a chance to grieve, and then they’ll hold a party at the clubhouse. After that, they’ll start getting better,” I said.

The bros took a quick cigarette break. They waited for the drivers from the funeral home to finish their breakfast. Ten minutes later, the convoy headed south on Interstate 25. Little Mike and his bros rode behind the hearses and we followed along behind them. The sun beat down on us as we hit the interstate and the sky was blue overhead. Herds of antelope grazed on the prairie, but to the south, storm clouds were gathering. The further south we traveled the worst the weather became. We pulled into Las Vegas New Mexico that evening. The rain beat us like unloved stepchildren.

All though it didn’t bother those of us in spirit form, the bros that were still alive got soaked to the bone. The convoy pulled into a Super 8 motel and the bros rented rooms for the night.

“What’s the plan?” Chico asked while we stood under an awning watching the rain.

“You and the bros that died in the crash will stay inside with the bros that are still alive. The rest of us are going to stand guard out here,” I said.

“Are you expecting trouble?” Bone Crusher asked.

“Yeah, I got a bad feeling. The Devil’s boys are going to pull out all the stops tonight. They’ve got a small window of opportunity. Once these boys get planted properly, their souls will no longer be in jeopardy,” I said.

The bros and the drivers from the funeral home checked into a motel. After putting their things into their room, they crossed the street to a restaurant. The hostess seated them at a large table in a private room off to the side.

“This may sound strange, but a few times I thought I saw some motorcycles behind us,” one of the prospects said.

“Dude. There are thousands of bikes on the road right now, because of the Black Hills Rally in Sturgis,” Two Belts said.

“I know, but this was different. I saw a group of bikers in my rearview and then they disappeared. Some of them look like our bros that died on the highway,” the prospect said.

Little Mike sighed. “I know what you mean bro. Call me weird, but I feel their presence right now. It’s almost like they’re right here beside us.”

I looked at Chico and shrugged. “If they weren’t hurting from losing their brothers, I’d mess with them right now.”

“What would you do?”

“I’d probably, knock over Little Mike’s beer or drink it,” I said.

“That’s right. You can do stuff like that. I remember that time you guys came back to help us when we had that dust-up with the Hell-Raisers at the Devil’s Punch Bowl. We could see you then. Why don’t we let them see us now?” Chico asked.

“We will after you boys get planted. We’ll wave goodbye before we head back to Biker Heaven,” I said.

They finished their dinner and headed back to the motel room. I sent Chico and the bros that died on the road inside with Little Mike and the bros that were still alive. The Halo Riders stood, watching outside.

The bros settled into their rooms. We sent the souls of the departed inside with them and we stood guard around the motel room. The night passed slowly and the rain stopped. The sky cleared up and a full moon looked down on the city of Las Vegas New Mexico. When the Devil’s little imps attacked, they hit us with everything they had. A mob of the little demons in the black robes charged across the road from the shadows and attacked. Hearing a hissing sound, I saw a host of evil demons swooping down on us from the sky. They wore hooded robes and rode on the backs of evil creatures from the depths of hell itself.

The sky overhead looked like the Fourth of July. We fired off bolts of blue-green light with our gats at the demons attacking from the air. Each time we hit one of the evil bastards they would explode in a blinding flash of light. Smoke filled the air. The little shits in the black robes charged across the parking lot. We stood our ground with our backs to the wall. Slashing with our knives and firing our pistols, we fought for the souls of our brothers. The bros inside the motel rooms were none the wiser.

The attack broke off about an hour later. All though we beat the little bastards back, we lost half of our own. Several of my bros that wear the Halo patch took hits from the spears that the little shits hurled at us. When a bro got hit he would explode and disappear from this plane of existence. Eventually, his energy would reform in Biker Heaven, but he would have to rest for a time to regain his energy.

I was leaning back against the wall trying to catch my breath when I heard something growl in the darkness. Looking up, I saw a multitude of evil red eyes in the street. A howl filled the night as the hounds of hell charged down the street toward the motel.

“Oh shit. I hate those smelly bastards,” I said and then pushed away from the wall to meet the new assault.

“Boy, we must have stirred up a hornet’s nest when we rescued those bros from Biker Hell. They won’t give up,” Bone Crusher said.

“Yeah we pissed off the Devil and he wants his due,” Little Danny Boy said.

“He can go shit up a rope,” I said.

The Devil’s four-legged critters resembling a pack of mangy wolves slammed into us. One of the evil creatures knocked Little, Danny boy to the ground and locked onto his throat with his jaws. I grabbed the vile creature by the scruff of his neck and slammed my knife into the top of its head. Both Little Danny Boy and the smelly beast exploded in a blinding flash. Bone Crusher and I stood back to back slashing with our knives. I put a round between the eyes of one of the evil vermin and another one lunged at me from the left.

I swung my blade around and stabbed him in the ear. The evil bastards retreated into the night, but I had a feeling that they weren’t through. Bone Crusher and I sank with our backs against the wall.

“I can’t take much more of this,” Bone Crusher said. We were both huffing and puffing. The hell hounds had whittled our numbers down by half once more.

“We’ve got to hold on,” I said.

“We will,” Bone Crusher said.

“Yeah, the old Devil can send all the mangy dogs left in hell if he wants to. He can come down here himself. We’ll kick his ass back to hell because there ain’t nothing more powerful than a bro with a pure heart,” I said.

They attacked us several more times that night. When the sun came up, Bone Crusher and I were the only Halo Riders left standing.

“It’s kind of ironic, don’t you think. You were the one that killed me and sent me to the great beyond, and here we are fighting back to back like brothers.”

I put my arm around Bone Crusher. “We are brothers. Even though we had a little mix-up when we were mortal, doesn’t mean we aren’t bros. Let’s get Chico and the rest of the crew that crashed on the highway down to Harlem Springs. We need to get them planted before old Slue Foot gets his second wind,” I said. The sun stabbed its warm fingers across the great state of New Mexico.

***

Two days later we gathered at the Baptist church on the outskirts of Harlem Springs Arizona. Coffins filled the front of the church and motorcycles filled the parking lot. Road Dogs from various chapters across the southwest filled the church. The reverend stepped to the platform to perform the eulogy. Chico and the souls that died on the highway stood in the back watching the show.

“Nice crowd,” I said.

“Yeah, there are guys here from clubs across the state,” Chico said.

“Everyone wants to pay their respects.”

“It’s kind of cool, attending your, own funeral.”

“Yeah, everyone does,” I said.

“It is a sad occasion that brings us here today,” Pastor Bill said. “Let us take a moment to reflect on the brothers that we’ve lost.” When he finished his sermon, he opened the floor so that others could speak. When the service was over, there wasn’t a dry eye in the house. We followed behind the bros as they escorted the hearses to the graveyard. The preacher said a few more words and then concluded the service. While the workers lowered the bodies into the ground, Bone Crusher and I looked over at a clump of trees. A few of the little smelly shits in the black robes watched us with their beady little eyes.

“Do you think they’ll try anything?”

“No, now that the bodies are at rest, they’ve lost their chance,” I said.

“What now?” Chico asked.

“Now we follow the bros over to the clubhouse. They’re holding a party in your honor.” I said.

Ten minutes later, we rolled into the High Noon Saloon. A band opened up on stage. The prospects tended bar and the bros partied in honor of their fallen brothers. Chico, Lead Belly, Dirty Dan, Bone Crusher, and I bellied up to the bar. Lead belly noticed Janet sitting down, the bar crying. He went over to give her what comfort he could, with him being in the spirit form. He came back a few minutes later. I put my arm around lead Belly’s shoulders. “She’ll be all right bro. The brothers will take care of her.”

“I hope so,” Lead Belly said.

“Enough of this mopping around. Now that the funeral services are over, we can have some fun, before we go,” I said. “Prospect! Get me a Jack and Coke, plus four beers for my friends here!” I yelled at the prospect.

“Keep your shirt on!” He yelled and then mixed my Jack and Coke. He set the Jack and Coke on the bar along with four beers and then glanced up and down the bar. “Okay, who’s the wise guy? Who ordered these drinks?” Someone down the bar motioned to the prospect. He shrugged and headed down the bar. I picked up my Jack and Coke, the tumbler disappearing when it touched my hand, and passed out the beers.

“How’d you do that?” Chico asked.

“It’s something you learn after a while. Once you’re on this side of the graveyard there are lots of things like that, that you can do. All you have to do is focus your energy.”

Down the bar, several women poured ice water over their chests and climbed up on the bar to do a wet t-shirt contest. We settled back to watch the show. About a half-hour later, Little Mike had the prospects line up several glasses of beer on the bar. Little Mike stepped back away from the bar and yelled for everyone to be quiet.

“I had the prospects put these beers on the bar for our fallen brothers,” he said. “I’d like to raise a toast to the brothers we lost on Interstate 80 outside of Rapid City. To our fallen brothers!” he said, lifting his glass. A cheer when up from the crowd as they raised their drinks in a toast.

A grin spread across my face. “They poured those beers in your honor. Why don’t you guys go drink them?” I said.

“Can we?” Chico asked.

“Hell yeah.” Chico along with the souls of the fallen brothers stepped up to the bar grabbed a glass and down the beer. A hush fell over the bar when the bros saw the empty glasses on the bar.

“What the hell?” Two Belts said.

Beside me, Lead Belly and Chico snickered. The bros glanced around, but of course, they couldn’t see us.

“Who drank them beers?” Road Kill asked.

Little Mike sighed. “You know, I’ve felt the presence of our brothers every since we left the hospital in Rapid City. I guess they did. I feel like they’re here with us now. I know they wouldn’t want the party to stop,” Little Mike said, motioning for the band to continue. We partied with the bros for another hour and then I nodded to Chico.

“Time for us to roll. We’ve got another party to attend up in Biker Heaven,” I said to Chico. Bone Crusher and I led the souls of the fallen brothers outside. We climbed on our spirit bikes and pulled onto the highway. Bone Crusher and I led the pack. We parked in the middle of the road. “Concentrate hard. We need to be mortal for a while. I’d like to do about fifty miles before we head back. Whenever I get the chance to come back to Earth, I like to take on my physical form and put my face in the wind for a while.”

“What about them?” Bone Crusher said, motioning to the front porch of the High Noon Saloon.”

I glanced up as Little Mike, Two, Belts, Road Kill and three prospects stepped on the porch.

I grinned. “It’s our chance to say goodbye.”

Our bodies changed, becoming mortal. When the bros saw us, their eyes widened and their jaws dropped. A big grin spread across their faces. We waved, they waved back, I nodded at Little Mike, cranked the throttle and we blasted down the highway.

***