38
To Hell You Ride
Chopper Town Biker Bar
“Gears,” said one of the other bikers as he stared at a television screen. The flicker of light from the TV popped across his face. “You’ll wanna take a look at this.” The burly man held a pool cue with both hands and leaned his face against it. His bloodshot eyes told the tale of a long night of drinking. He looked behind himself. In the early morning hours, the biker bar had finally descended into relative calm. When no one answered, he looked over his shoulder at the pool table where Gears Pliskin was laid out. “Pliskin!” he said, a little louder this time. “Dammit.”
He tossed the pool cue onto a table and walked to the next one over. He shook Gears until his eyes cracked open.
“What in hell do you want?” Pliskin said, his voice husky. “Yo
