The Last Ride Of Xim And Zen

Zeno walked around the black and gold custom chopper. Heat from the sun crushed from above. More rose from the cracked blacktop of the road, suffocating. He wiped road dust from it though more surrounded them for miles in every direction, looking everywhere but behind him. Where she was doubled over.

“Fuck em,” Ximena hissed, then vomited into the ratty bushes.

He squinted at the buttes and mesas of the desert. “You need anything?”

“Just have the water ready,” she growled

Grinning, Zeno unlatched the canteen from the saddlebag. A red bandana kept his long, dark hair restricted from his heavily bearded face. Thick, lush hair provided intense insulation for the heat, making his cheeks itchy. After using a splash of water to rinse the dust from his hands, he dug out the bottle of suntan lotion and lathered his exposed skin. A thin sleeveless stuck like film from the sweat soaking it. It was uncomfortable, but only a little.

The ground crunched as she stomped through the dirt back to the bike. He held the canteen out. Ximena snatched it and rinsed her mouth, spitting back into the ditch on a dark rock. A centipede scurried from under, seeking new cover. It was fat, pulsing and veiny, eyes on stalks, stretching over three feet. He watched it disappear into the dry brush.

“You good?” he asked.

“Fine.”

“Rest or keep going?”

She fastened the cap and slapped the canteen against his chest. “Didn’t think you’d need more rest.” Her teeth were pink, turning grin into grimace

He smiled, pretending not to notice. “Then let’s go.”

They mounted the bike. She rode pillion. The chain mantled wheels rattled, metal links thorned with curved teeth. The engine coughed. Growled. Roared. Bit the concrete and chewed the miles. Ximena directed him with a shoulder squeeze or a nudge. Long years together made them ideal travel companions. Instinct guided smooth turns without overcorrections or sudden jerks. They took only back roads and forgotten highways, sometimes crossing paths already taken, sometimes doubling back. She hummed and whispered the old magic. The tire teeth rattled with the static of her will.

When the sun sank below the horizon, they stopped at a gas station for the last time. She hurried inside to the bathroom. He clenched his teeth to keep from chasing and focused on refilling the black tank. The chopper pulsed with hunger, shaking itself awake. He tossed a look toward the bright facility. Couldn’t see her. Zen pulled out his phone and to the text conversation with Chrissy. All the messages were form her.

Don’t do this

We need you

You’re a selfish asshole

Please stop

Ben needs you

Once more a dagger twisted in his heart. He’d turn seven next month. Zen’s face flushed with shame that he wouldn’t be there.

He won’t understand.

He typed out I’m sorry

Deleted it

Typed instead I am committing an act of staggering apostasy

Click went the fuel nozzle.

He returned it to the holster and paid with his card. Ximena stumbled from the bathroom. She grabbed an armful of jerky and chips, a bottle of aspirin, and a six pack of cheap beer. Dropped them at the checkout. Her coffee colored skin had begun to grey. The clerk looked up enough to ring up the items. Didn’t notice her state and let the digital display share the total. She swiped her card. Stabbed a finger at the keypad. Gathered the items up as the clerk flashed a peace sign.

Halfway between the door and the bike she threw a bag of jerky at him.

Zen ripped it open, sniffed at the cheap, oversalted meat and grinned. “This shit’ll kill you.”

Xim’s laugh devolved into a coughing fit that spat a wad of bloody phlegm on the ground. Neither acknowledged it as they mounted the bike. It brimmed with her magic now, awake and hungry, it roared loud enough to rattle the gas station windows, finally drawing the clerks attention. Blue embers coughed from the exhaust to drift like fireflies into the sky. The intensity of the headlights flared with each thunderous growl.

He turned his mouth and she turned her ear to meet. “They’ll know by now.”

She nodded.

“They’ll want to stop us.”

Their eyes met. “Having second thoughts?” She asked.

“Not even a little.”

“Then stop stating the obvious. We’ve more to do”

“Heard.”

The bike lurched forward, its eagerness almost spilling them off to rocket away on its own. They whooped and howled together at the galloping freedom of the unleashed steed. The chains and teeth chewed up the blacktop, leaving cracked and rubbled tracks in it’s wake. They chewed jerky and downed the icy, cheap beer.

With the sun gone and a full moon above, the glow of their previous trails shone; witchlight leylines tracing a pattern of her direction.

She pressed her face against his back and shouted “They’re waiting at the crossroad.”

Of course they were.

Her hand on his ribs spasmed, squeezed the ribs. He winced through the pain, placed his hand over hers. Their fingers laced. She relented and shared her pain. He was glad, even as its intensity elicited starburst in his vision and made him gasp.

Together, the burden was tolerable.

A mile from the crossroad, close to the center of the sigil, he began decelerating. The chopper strained against the restraints but complied. A half mile and they could see the lights. Cars, vans, other choppers. The whole caravan.

“Fuck,” she hissed. “They all came.”

“You expected they wouldn’t?” He shouted back.

She coughed. Her breath was hot and smelled of beef jerky, beer, and rot. He blinked away tears, telling himself it was the desert air.

They slowed as they approached the barricade of vehicles. Witchlight from Xim’s magick cast a blueish hue over everything. A man and a woman exited a large, custom van. She was taller than he, with a cane and a limp. He was older than she, with a face covered in scars. Her parents.

The woman grimaced. “Don’t do this.”

Ximena scowled.

The scarred man sighed at Zeno with his one good eye. “You support this madness?”

Zen sucked on his teeth. “No.” The old man and woman relaxed. He was glad that Xim never tensed in doubt. “I support her.”

Dark looks passed over their faces. “She should come home. Pass in peace.”

Xim’s nails dug into Zen’s chest. It hurt. He didn’t flinch. She spat “I will not go in peace.”

“That is our way.”

“Your way.”

“We respect balance.”

“Well I don’t.” Xim planted her feet and stood, bracing herself on Zen’s shoulders. Her arms shook with the exertion, the strength bleeding from her. “Balance gave me this disease. Made it so nothing could treat it. Our way told me to accept there was nothing I could do.”

The tall woman’s face softened. “We get the lives we have and the cards we’re dealt in them. We are not meant to live longer than our threads decree.”

With a frown, Xim sank forward till her breasts pressed against the back of Zen’s head. He could feel her ribs. She’d lost so much physically, but it made who she was shine brighter. Her voice was soft, but carried over the idling engines and the night sounds of the desert, to everyone. “We get so much power. So many opportunities to choose. But the most powerful we can make is how things end.”

The scarred man stepped forward, eyes on Zen, pleading. “You have a family. Do you not love Chrissy? Benjamin?”

“Of course I do.”

“Would you betray that bond?”

It was Zeno’s turn to scowl. “There are many kinds of bond. Different ways to love.” He placed a hand over Xim’s and squeezed. “It has never been about being together. We were always going to face the end as one.”

Her grip tightened on him a moment before he fully opened the throttle and let the beast off the leash.

The chopper’s scream was a shockwave rolling from the exhaust for a half mile. All the headlights of the caravan stuttered then went out. Each vehicle died. Confusion reigned with them. Fire wreathed Ximena and Zeno, the hooked teeth chained along the tires glowing like embers. The witchlight leylines flared. Aurora trails of gold and blue flowed as rivers in the sky.

In the distance, a butte shone with golden sparks. Their destination.

The tall woman ran at them, arms outstretched. She stopped at the edge of their wreathing fire. “Let me embrace you!” She shouted to be heard over the unleashed magick. “You can pass peacefully in the arms of care!”

Ximena’s tears soaked through his vest, cold as arctic ice. “I love you, mother. But I have never taken the quiet way.”

She tilted her head back as Zeno leaned over the bars. They screamed together. Blood erupted from Ximena’s mouth and danced in the air like silk threads, rising up and up to weave into the auroras. The bike leapt. Zen strained at the handlebars. They hurtled past the old woman, knocking her aside but sparing her life. The van lay before them . The chopper chewed through the center, splitting it in half.

It was the final sprint. The last ride. Ximena coughed into his shoulder as they hurtled down toward the glittering butte. Blue and grey fire spouted in their wake. Zeno leaned forward, grimacing against the wind as the bike tried to slip free of his control. She spoke into his ear, felt as much as heard.

You never asked what I planned.

It never mattered. I trust you.

Thank you.

He smiled, tears streaking down his cheeks. So. What ARE we doing?

Her smile was a fever burn against his back. Im setting us free. Not everywhere. Not everyone. But this desert at least. Free. Anyone can come here to CHOOSE their end, free from the consequences of their beliefs. Bound to no law or creed. To enter whatever afterlife they believe in or fade into nothing.

He chewed on that. Behind them the caravan managed to restart their vehicles, but even the fastest would never catch up with the awakened chopper.

I get it.

But?

Don’t like the idea of a serial killer or pedophile making a journey here to get past whatever consequences might await them.

They’ll have to get past the Guide. The one who checks the scale.

Like Themis.

They were almost to the butte. He veered off the road, headed straight for it.

Just me, she said

He swallowed. You’re wrong. Not just you.

She squeezed him tight. They took comfort in each other, like when they were children. You didn’t need to. We’re breaking every rule and taboo.

You had me at fuck em.

She laughed. Something wet and loose rattled in her lungs. You always had my back.

You always had mine. Seemed only fair.

And that was it. No discussion, no comparison about the size of the ask or squabbling over who owed more. It just was. They backed each other. Always.

The butte’s slope lead to a nearly vertical angle. But the bike was hungry and would not be stopped. He hit it at an angle. The tires gnawed the stone, staying planted even when gravity and momentum had a different opinion. They spiraled around and around, shocks absorbing bumps but still trying to buck them off. His forearms ached from the constant death grip, ribs from Ximeana squeezing her arms around him.

There was a calm that settled over Zen as they neared the lip. This wasn’t how things were supposed to be. Even young they’d been told their bond was woven from ancient threads, promises handed down. Always a Witch, always a Pillar; one to touch the spirit world and one to anchor them both to the physical. Supporting each other while keeping each other in line. Then the world decided tumors were going to erase her from it.

The rules had been bent, but never broken. They were going to shatter them.

He could feel her heartbeat slowing. She was nearly unconscious. He bared his teeth and kicked the chopper to go faster. It found the strength even as he struggled to find enough to stay on.

“HOLD ON!” His scream was thunder on a cloudless sky. Lightning flashed through the auroras. The caravan lights reached the bottom of the butte. If any had the power to get a vehicle up it, they’d waited too long. He suspected the only one who possessed such strength could was dying on his back.

They leapt over the edge and crashed to the ground with a stone splitting impact. No momentum lost. Zen turned the handlebars to keep the chopper swinging in a wide circle around the edge. Tendons snapped and a shoulder dislocated. The pain was a distant thing as Ximena’s heartbeat fluttered in its final gallop.

Lightning struck the flat surface of the butte, searing the hidden gate in an afterimage, the final pass to finish the ritual. To gain the freedom she proposed. There was a moment where the weight of what they were about to do struck him. The sacrifice of never seeing his wife or son again.

He never hesitated.

The bike screeched like a furious god, crashing toward the shimmering arch formed of witchlight and pain. The final beat of Ximena’s heart struck as they reached it and released on the other side.

The aruroras erupted with their death knell.

XIm and Zen screamed not in pain but in feral triumph. They were fire and fury arching through the sky like a comet; flesh flayed to muscle. Muscle stripped to bone. The chopper was shredded down to a skeleton of warped steel. The last pieces to soak in the cleansing fire were the tumors riddling Ximena’s body. Misshapen, grotesque things that fed off the cascade of energy. Void of a host, they consumed themselves in a fleshy oroboros until they vanished in a puff of their own hunger.

Without form, Xim and Zen’s screams melded with the chopper, cracking the night and scattering the witchlight like mist in a high wind. The scars of their existence sank into fault lines.

The caravan bore witness to their expiration. Though many disagreed with their choice, they honored it with a moment of silence. None could doubt the bravery and the tenacity behind it.

For the desert, during the solstice you can see the distant blue glow of Ximena’s witchlight leylines, though they fade like a mirage when you approach. It became a place of ghost stories, like Aokighara Forest, where people seeking purpose or having none would enter and often never return.

The butte became a sacred place where those with terminal illness would sometimes visit and ask to be cured. What miracles did occur were kept secret.

From the sky, fault lines seem to form a sigil, thought to be of something she made a deal with. Something misunderstood and nameless that prized freedom and choice above all. From the ground, those same fault lines smell of burning animal fur and gasoline.

At night on the overgrown roads of the desert, if you travel fast enough and turn your lights off, your boldness can draw Xim and Zen on their screaming chopper. They will ride with you as long as your bravery holds.

If you do:

Howl with them

Revel in their freedom

Follow as long as you can on the last Ride of Xim and Zen knowing they now ride the desert forever.