I hear them before I see them.
My eyes gravitate to the rear-view mirror. Small, golden circular lights illuminate the reflection. There must be about seven of them, picking up speed as the once-small circles of light become larger every second. I glance at the road and then back to the rear view mirror several times.
"Assholes.." I say quietly rolling my eyes.
My eyes redirect to the mirror, the lights have become brighter and have lost their golden touch, giving way to a much more stark white color. The same stark white I see on a daily basis spending a twelve-hour shift basking in.
The bright lights recklessly weave in and out of the empty lanes behind me, giving an almost lightning bug effect from the contrast of the night sky. They're being daredevil-ish, the speed, the closeness of them together huddled in the same lane, side by side. The rev of the throttle behind me makes me gulp with surprise, one of them has caught up to my car in such little time. Anger begins to boil as a singular light shines through the back window of my Audi, brightening the mirror fully. This prick is right on my ass. If I so much as tap my brakes and he crashes into me, this guy will be meeting the lord in an instant, or from the behavior I've recollected in mere seconds, possibly another, more unforgiving entity.
Annoyed, I roll down my window, extend out my left arm as far as I can, and give whoever the fuck this daredevil is the finger, delivering him a piece of my mind.
As if it weren't physically possible for him to get any closer to my rear end, he does. My eyebrows scrunch together in irritation and my anxiety is through the roof at how close he is now. I may despise this stranger but I don't want blood on my hands, if he's looking for a death wish, keep me out of it.
By some miracle, he finally weaves into the left lane. I avert my gaze his way just in time to catch the finger given right back to me. It's almost laughable that I got a returned fuck you, as if I did something wrong in this whole equation. He pops a wheelie, cuts me off, and accelerates at lightning speed down the interstate causing the exhaust to crackle.
Relief washes over me now that this overly confident jack ass is far out of sight.
"I fucking hate motorcycles," I sigh out to none other than myself as the other death trap metal on two wheels practically breaks the sound barrier as they pass me on the left.
One last look in the slightly smudged mirror indicates it's only me as far as the eye can see. Of course, it'd only be me though, it's nearing three in the morning and all the lucky ones are cozied up in a warm bed sleeping on this chilly October night. I, on the other hand, just put in a partial shift on my day off to cover for Lindsay, who contracted the flu from a patient.
Yay me…
Tonight was a shit show, asshole patients, asshole relatives who of course know more than you, the nurse. Asshole motorcyclist. It's fine, it's done, I'm only a few minutes from home now and it'll all be over and I can join the lucky ones.
I let out an oversized yawn, adjusting in my seat, and hover my right foot over the brake when I spot something up ahead.
Lights.
The same singular golden light.
The only difference is that this light is not upright, this light is not moving and it's shining on the pavement ahead. I remove my hovering foot and slam it to the right watching the gauge go from fifty-five, to sixty to sixty-five to seventy until I'm close enough to make out my estimated fears.
The motorcycle, or what's left of it.
My tires screech when I begin to approach the scene as I do a hard brake onto the shoulder of the highway.
Before I do anything, I frantically dig through my purse that sits on the passenger seat and retrieve my phone. With shaky hands, I immediately dial 911 and after one ring the operator answers my desperate call.
"911 what is the location of your emergency?" The female operator asks calmly.
"Interstate 5! Southbound …umm.." I hurriedly try to get the words out.
It's interesting really, I'm normally very calm in emergency situations but this is different, I'm not in the safety of the hospital where I have a team with me and every medical tool at arm's reach.
"Okay ma'am, we've tracked your location, can you tell me what is going on?" Yet again, she so calmly asks.
"Motorcycle accident, I have to go," I blurt out and end the call quickly shoving my cell into the pocket of my purple fleece jacket.
I unbuckle my seatbelt and rush out of my car leaving the driver's side door wide open and run to the motorcycle. My phone starts to ring and I know it's the operator on the other end but time is of the essence and by the look of the metal scattered on the pavement, every second is life or death.
The engine of the black on black on black motorcycle is still running…barely though. Bolts and screws lie beside the flat back tire, a side mirror dangles from a still-connected wire, ever so slowly spinning in half circles. This isn't good, not at all. Nerves flood my system as I take the scene in. A shiver rolls down my spine and confusion etches in my mind.
Where the fuck is the rest of the group of motorcyclists and where the fuck is the rider?