Edge of Ashes (Sons of Ash Motorcycle Club) by Brynn O'Connor

a
strange sharp metallic ping somewhere down on the bike. I look down just in
time to see sparks fly and another sharp pinging sound.
    “What the hell?”
    I look back up just in time to see the
bikes right side view mirror explode into tiny glass fragments. I shut my eyes
automatically expecting to get a face full of glass before I remember my helmet
has a full face shield. I start to relax my iron grip around Adam’s waist when
all of a sudden the bike swerves to the left, then back to the right again.
Then it hits me. That wasn’t some random pebble that struck the bike’s mirror;
it was a bullet.
    Suddenly I feel like I’m this giant fat
hippo creature with a neon bulls eye on my back that flashes shoot me in big
red letters. I twist my head around as our bike suddenly surges forward. I
barely manage to retain my grip on Adam. If I’d been any more relaxed I would
have just flipped over backwards and landed on my ass on the road below. Maybe
thirty feet behind us is another biker and he is surging forward trying to
close the gap between the bikes. Fortunately for us we’re on a winding road so
his chances for a clean shot are pretty limited. On the other hand if he’s on a
more powerful machine he’ll be shooting point blank in a matter of minutes.
    Adam surges forward again and I’m nearly
deafened by the roar of the engine between our legs. I look ahead and take
small comfort in the fact that the road is one long spaghetti-like stretch of
pavement for as far as the eye can see. I look behind us again but the other
biker is lost behind the corner we just rounded. Adam taps on my knee. I turn
back around as he pulls the shotgun from its holster.
    “Oh no you don’t. I’m not shooting anyone.”
    He holds up the weapon clearly expecting me
to grab it. This time I yell as loud as I can manage.
    “No!”
    I shake my head vigorously for emphasis,
hoping he gets the point. He glances back at me. His eyes narrow and he mouths
something I can’t quite catch. I just can’t hear anything above the roar of the
Harley. Adam turns back around and leans into the next corner. I grab the cold
steel of the gun’s barrel. I guess I am going to shoot someone today. But first
I’m going to have to forget that I’m a trauma nurse that has dedicated her life
to helping others. I don’t decide who is good or who is bad, I just do my best
to be the best healer I can be for whoever comes through the doors of my ER. I
push that side of me deep down as far as I can shove it and study the gun in my
right hand. I have no idea what kind it is. It’s got a single barrel about two
feet long. It looks like it has been modified so that it can be held and shot
like a large handgun. I heft it in my hand trying to get a feel for the weapon.
I slip my finger in the trigger housing and turn around. Our assailant is back
in view and has closed the distance considerably.
    I can feel bile rising in my throat as my
whole being is suffused with fear. I might die today. I’m barely twenty-six
years old and today may be the last day on earth for me.
    “Well guess what Mr. Biker Guy, I’m not
ready to die yet.”
    The second I point my weapon at the rapidly
approaching biker he immediately backs off. Maybe I won’t actually have to
shoot him. Unfortunately he isn’t hesitant for very long. The minute the road
straightens out in front of us he puts on a burst of speed and comes far too
close for comfort. One more time I can feel the bulls eye on my back throbbing.
At any moment I expect to feel the bite of hot lead.
    “Fuck that!” I swear under my breath. I’m
not going down without a fight.
    I do my best to aim and squeeze the trigger
and I watch belatedly as the modified shotgun goes flipping out of my hand and
lands on the road behind us.
    “Dammit!”
    The shotgun skitters across the roadway,
off to the side and then over a considerable drop off. I look up as our last
line of defense disappears over the cliff. Someone on the beach