Terrible Two’s Day

Dylan was in the middle of nowhere. It was a nice summer day, not too hot, not too cold. But still, he would estimate it was at least ten miles to the nearest town. And it was already five-thirty - it would be getting dark soon. If only his car hadn't crapped out on him a few miles back. He had left it, lights flashing, parked in the grass on the side of the road.

He heard something in the distance in front of him. He couldn't tell if it was just the leaves rustling, or if maybe a car was coming. If it was a car and he was saved, he would be pretty happy. Maybe he'd rent a room at a local hotel and have pizza delivered. He'd lean back and relax with a good book until it arrived and enjoy what was left of his evening.

Some vacation this had turned out to be.

The vehicle - whatever it was - was getting closer. Maybe it was a motorcycle. It certainly wasn't that large, and he couldn't hear the engine. He figured it was one of those battery-powered deals. He knew they had electric cars now, so it made sense electric motorbikes must exist too, though he couldn't remember ever seeing one.

Then, from around the bend, he saw a bright blue bicycle with a very muscular man at the helm, powering the pedals and tearing down the dirt road fast enough to leave a thin, snakelike plume of dust behind him. It was a very odd sight since nothing else was around but trees and empty fields for several miles. And the oddity of it only increased as the man drew closer and he saw he was riding on a bicycle built for two - except there was no second rider. The pedals at the rear sat motionless, the seat empty.

The bicycle rider, who was dressed in what looked like a black and gray jog suit, slowed down as he neared Dylan. "Howdy," he said, with a great big friendly grin on his face. "You look like you need a lift."

Dylan laughed and waved him away. "Naw, I'm fine. Besides, don't you know you're not supposed to pick up hitchhikers."

"Wait now," the man said, sliding off his bicycle with amazing grace and walking beside it, beside Dylan, still all smiles and teeth. "Don't turn away help so easily when it's offered to you. It must be miles to Borden from here. You're squat square in the middle of Nowheresville out here. I doubt if you even get cell service.”

It was true, Dylan reflected. He didn't get cell service out here. Though he felt uncomfortable telling this stranger about it.

“All I'm asking for is your body to help me power this bike. It's a hell of a workout powering through here on this big bike when it's just me by my lonesome."

"Yeah," said Dylan, now that the man was walking next to him he was feeling a little more comfortable talking to him, "Where's your other rider?"

"She died," he said. "It was my wife, Lori. A car accident took her just a few months ago. This is the only Bike we had. We'd ride it up and down this road every day. We'd go to the candy shop on ahead in Reddington, back the way you came."

"I saw it on my way through. I should have stopped there at Pine Village Motel."

"Why didn't you?"

The bicycle rider had grey stubble on his chin and his head was cleanly shaved. He didn't wear glasses and didn't have any tattoos or markings on him of any kind. No distinguishing features of any kind to set him apart from many other males he had seen in his lifetime. Again, he didn't feel comfortable telling this man his car had broken down and he was stranded. Even though it was pretty obvious.

"My name's Ray," the man said. "It's short for Rayford."

They shook hands. Firm grip. Calloused hands. He was a gentleman. A laborer.

"Look, I know what you're thinking. riding a bicycle with another man - especially a man built like me - out here in the middle of the woods. It's weird. It's strange. It's uncomfortable. Man, it just don't sit right. But here's the thing. Pretty soon, it's going to get dark out here. The flies are gonna come, the gnats, the mosquitos. You won't be able to see shit. Sometimes there's even coyotes on this road late night. Trust me, I know."

Dylan and the man walked along in silence, neither of them talking. Pretty soon, he noticed they were keeping stride, marching along. Left, right, left, right, left, right.

"Well, if I can't convince you then I'll be on my way. I'm heading to that candy shop back where you came from, in Reddington. My wife used to get me these strawberry candies (I don't remember what exactly they're called) but they are hard on the outside and chewy in the middle and - well, never mind, man. You have a good night." Ray climbed back onto his bicycle.

"Wait," Dylan said, walking back and climbing on the back. "You got me for as far as Reddington."

"Yeah?" Ray smiled.

"Yeah. But I gotta warn you, I've never done this type of thing before."

Ray laughed. "You make it sound all dirty. Once you ride a bike - any bike, man, it don't matter - you never forget how to do it."

It turned out Ray was right. After a few feet, Dylan was going along and enjoying the breeze. He didn't have to peddle all that hard to keep them going either. Most of the pedaling was Ray, which was just fine by him. They were going at quite an incredible speed (considering they were riding a bicycle). Dylan thought they were going at least ten miles per hour, maybe even fifteen at times. They would be able to reach Reddinton in less than an hour. 

It would have even been an enjoyable ride too, had it not been so awkward and weird riding this bike with another man. Dylan felt like a bicycle built for two was more of a couple's thing. Heck, he didn't even feel comfortable sitting next to another man at the BMV, let alone biking with another man in the wilderness. He wasn't a homophobe or anything, it just was strange, alien.

"That your car?" Ray asked after they had been riding for about five minutes. 

A yellow Chevy Malibu passed by. The hazard lights were still flashing. "Yeah, that's Elvira."

"What's wrong with her?"

"A bad starter and no repairman around for miles."

"And no phone service to call one," added Ray. "I swear if something bad was going to happen to someone," Ray turned around to look at Dylan. "This would be the place."

"You're scaring me, Ray."

"Sorry. Just telling things like they are. This is not the place you want to be stuck in."

The sun was dying in the sky, bleeding out in reds and yellows across the horizon. Soon the moon would rise like a ghost and haunt the night. And all the while, Dylan listened to the raspy labored breathing of his driver and the whir of the bicycle tires on the dirt road. The back of Ray's shirt was soaked in sweat and sticking to his skin. He couldn't wait until they hit Reddington so he could get a drink. Ray must feel the same.

"Hey Ray," said Dylan. "Tell me more about your wife."

"My wife? Oh, right, Lori. She was beautiful, man. Long blond hair, green eyes, short, funny, very immodest." Ray laughed. "She was a little spitfire."

"She sounds like she was really something," said Dylan, trying to think of the correct way to phrase his question. "But I was more asking about how she died. You said it was a car accident. What happened, if you don't mind me asking."

"I remember driving the truck. We were headed for Lexington and I was tired. I must have pulled over and let her drive so I could sleep. I remember having a dream..."

For several seconds, Ray said nothing but continued pedaling. Dylan waited patiently for him to continue his tale, but when he didn't he said, "Ray? You okay?"

"What? Yeah, anyway, when I woke up the door was open and blood was everywhere and I was lying on the pavement. I remember seeing her hand dangling from the roof, bloody and mangled, and I just kept thinking, how did she get on the roof? How? It didn't make any sense. I wanted to climb up on the hood and pull her down, but another part of me didn't want to, didn't want to see what I knew I would see."

"Did you hit someone or, was it a tree, or..." 

"My - my shirt was covered in blood. It was all over my clothes man, all over my hands, in my mouth, everywhere. Pieces of her scalp were on my neck." Ray was pedaling faster now. "How did pieces of her scalp get on my neck!"

"Ray, what was it? What did she hit? Or did someone hit her?"

"That's the thing," Ray said. "That's the most disturbing part of it."

Ray was pedaling so hard now Dylan had to move his legs to keep the pedals from banging his shins. Trees whipped past them. They weren't going down a hill or anything, but Ray was pedaling like a beast. Dylan estimated they were going at least fifty - and on a bicycle, which shouldn't even be possible.

"Slow down!"

Ray ignored him. "The fender wasn't crashed, the truck wasn't wrecked. In fact, it was still running. No one else was on the road. No one. Not a soul. Nothing. She was just lying on top of the car, man. Dead. Torn apart. Torn limb from limb. Blood everywhere. It was like my nightmare had come true. Like it had happened just like I had dreamed. Like the monster was real."

"What dream?"

"Exactly. What if there was no dream? What if I am a monster?"

Ray was pedaling even faster now and the trees and grass were nearly a blur around them. Dylan put down his right foot to try to catch a pedal and the force of it turning cracked him on the back of the leg so hard it broke his foot. He could see bone peeking out and he howled in anguish. "Ray, stop!!"

"You don't understand. If I go fast enough, it won't catch us. We can't stop. If you stop, it'll get you. That's how it got her. We stopped. We can never stop. Don't you understand?" He turned around to look at Dylan and his eyes were sticking out of his head on two lengthy optic nerves, just dangling there away from his face where they were supposed to be. "We can never stop!"

The bicycle went faster and faster and faster, as everything around them became a green blur and Dylan noticed Ray's body shifting, growing larger, thinner, and more hideous with each mile they laid behind them. "We can never go fast enough. We can never go fast enough."

Dylan screamed in terror.