Carrying Fire

Sam's butt absorbed each jolt of the motorcycle's impact with a pot hole on the dirt trail. Looking in the side mirror he smiled to see several of the wolves still pursuing. It took an adrenaline jockey to love covering this suicidal landscape on a bike. His delight vanished as he thought about the electric fence failing if he didn't get the fuel cell to the outpost in time. There would be worse than wolves invading their habitat.

A creek ravine opened up underneath him. The cycle's flight was not going to make it safely to the other side. Man, this was going to hurt. The front wheel hit the top edge just inches shy of success. Sam shot over the handlebars onto the trail tumbling to a stop. As he lay there, he focused on his various body parts assessing for the pain of broken bones. He also listened for approaching wolves. The pain was less than he expected, so that was good. Lifting his head to look about, he saw no predators. Even better! A thrill of fear had him struggling to his feet. His bike! Was it broke?

Jumping into the ravine, he pushed and pulled until the cycle was back onto the trail. Holding his breath, he turned the ignition key. The motorcycle roared to life. Letting out a whoop, he raced toward the outpost.

Blaring his horn, and slinging dust high into the air with a skidding stop, Sam shot up a fist. “I did it.”

Word count: 251