Dead Man's Song

Using strength he did not possess, he wrenched his bike around and stomped down on the pedal, propelling himself and the War Machine back onto Shandy’s Curve, away from the huge, gleaming monster, away from the thunder of its engine. Behind him, it seemed as if the engine howled with rage at his flight, but Mike knew that was just the driver shifting gears, shifting from park to drive, from waiting into full-bore attack. Mike tore along the highway, using the dips in the road to give him speed, steering small and smart, pumping his legs like pistons. Behind him the wrecker followed; slowly at first, rolling at a strange creeping pace around the Curve, seeming not to pursue, just to follow. But Mike wasn’t fooled. He knew that the wrecker driver was just giving him a head start, making the hunt more interesting. Mike took the chance for what it was worth and pedaled the bike with every ounce of his desperate strength, fighting his bike back up the hill. At first he didn’t look back, knowing that to do so would be to lose maybe a precious second. Instead he switched into a lower gear and his knees pumped up and down and he willed the bike to climb the tall hill. He widened the gap—a quarter-mile, a half-mile, almost three-quarters of a mile, the space of two medium hills. Then the wrecker’s engine howled with a furious delight and the chase was on.

Mike crested a hill and finally dared to look back, knowing what he would see. And he did see it. The wrecker was flying down the farthest hill, its massive bulk soaring into the pull of gravity. Mike could hear the driver giving it gas as it came up the other side, pressing the pedal down to keep the speed it had won from the freefall, devouring all of the precious lead Mike had earned.

“No!” Mike pedaled so hard that his legs blurred and his muscles caught fire; it felt like he was breathing flame. There were still two small hills between him and the wrecker, but he could hear it now, coming closer, closer. Where the hell were all those news vans and tourist cars when he needed them? He was halfway up the next hill when the lights of the wrecker pinned him to the macadam. Mike gasped. In the time it had taken him to go down and halfway up the next hill, the wrecker had taken both hills. It was going to catch him. Soon.

Which is when Mike Sweeney, the Enemy of Evil, came up with a plan. It was simple, it was obvious, and it was right there in his mind, fully formed. He almost smiled, but the terror was still too big for that. Still as he reached the top of the mount and vanished over it, he did smirk. Just a little.

Tow-Truck Eddie grinned as he saw the demon on the bike disappear over the nearest hill. Got you, he thought. Did you really think you could get away from me? Know you so little of God’s power and glory? He stamped down on the accelerator and rocketed down the hill, feeling the jolts as he bounced over patched sections of highway, feeling his own excitement build and dance in his mind.

I am the Sword of God! The very thought made him feel wonderful, made him so proud, so purely joyous to be a part of his Father’s plans. This second chance to do his Father’s will. It would be a starting place, a cornerstone on which he could build his church.

He had it all worked out. He would run him down but not kill him immediately, take him to a quiet place, and with his own hands wrest the truth from his flesh, discarding the polluted skin of evil that was simply shaped like a boy. He would reveal the demon within, then he would cast it out, banishing it into the darkness where it belonged. This was the first truly great mission of his ministry.

In his mind the voice of his Father hissed, Yes! Slay the Evil one!

Tow-Truck Eddie grinned as he raced down the slope, gunning the engine as he clawed up the other side. The boy was close, just out of sight on the other side. He reached the top of the crest and peered forward, hungry for sight of his prey. Suddenly something shot by him from the side of the road, something small and dark and fast, heading in the other direction.

The demon!

Tow-Truck Eddie saw it flash past, heading back down the slope. He slammed on the brakes and tried to stop the turn, jerking the wheel hard over. There was a horrific squeal of tires, plumes of smoke puffed up from the road; the whole chassis of the wrecker snarled in protest as too many forces fought to control it at once: thrust and gravity and angle, all working for that moment in the service of the Beast. Tow-Truck Eddie screamed aloud as he manhandled the wheel, his mind black with fury, and he could feel almost at once that he wasn’t going to make it.