Page 88 of Devil Inside

Keep it together, Jordan. You got this. Lock that shit down.

You can feel the energy in the air. The tension. Like a metal spring, all coiled up and eager to release. The electricity of it all is gathering. All the cycles. The riders just waiting to hit the streets. The different brands of bikes, all modded up to fit the needs to the rider.

These riders are all welcoming death. Their bikes won’t save them. Metal bends. Bones break.Someone’s gonna die tonight,I think. Not me. Not again. Once was enough.

You got this,I think.You can do this.But I can’t. The fear seeps into my system, flooding me from the inside out, and I know, I just know I’m going to drown if I don’t—

“Line up, riders!” Lys barks into her bullhorn.

A cheer rises from the crowd. These street machines are primed and ready to go.

“Mount up,” Lys shouts. Her voice sounds tinny. The bullhorn burns her words, singed with static. “First checkpoint is... wait for it... General Lee on Monument Ave.”

Great. Fucking great. We all have to haul our asses through the Fan. Tight streets. Whole lot of bottlenecking. Some blowhard is inevitably going to push through, plow around the bikes in front of him and cause a pile-up. Somebody’s bound to run a light and get clipped by some car that doesn’t know any better. Blood is bound to spill tonight.

Not mine. Not again.

I do a quick mental calculation: Broad to Harrison to Monument. Three minutes flat.

I can do that.

So why are my wrists trembling? I can feel the vibrations inmy bones the second I grip the handlebars. No matter how hard I squeeze, I can’t rid myself of these tremors.

Squeeze, release.

Where’s Lilith? She could steady me. All it would take is one touch and...

I can’t feel the bike beneath me. It’s just metal. Most times, when I ride, I sync up to the cycle. We’re one and the same. No longer separate. Now... I don’t know. There’s nothing but steel underneath me. I can’t get a sense for this bike. It’s not a part of me. We’re not linked. It’s just a... just a bike. A metal skeleton—and I’m the flesh, all loose, the muscle and sinew and veins, flapping about the air without its bones, as if we’ve been separated.

“On your marks...”

No time to dwell. Got to go. I steady my breath. Try to, at least.

Steady...

“Get set...”

I’ve got to rein in my heart, get a grip on my pulse, tighten every last vein.

Steady...

“GO!”

Over a hundred amped-up brakeless bike riders set off all at once. We’re a pack of mad wolves. A rabid stampede of pedals. You can hear us howling through the night.

Deak hits it hard, pedaling out ahead of the rest of us. Freel is doing a decent job of making sure I can keep my pace with him, but I know I’m slowing him down.

I can do this. I can do this.Steady as she goes...

Steady...

We pass under the streetlamps. I look to my left, glancing down at the street. I see a webbing of metal, the shadows of our spokes, like cobwebs spread over the asphalt for these fleeting blinks before slipping back to black, until we pass under the next streetlight.

The streets are full of spiderwebs. Seems like I’m the only one who can see them.

So... where’s the spider? Bound to be a big one. I look up, expecting to spot some big motherfucking black widow scuttling across the streetlamps, hiding above our heads.

We’re just flies. All of us. Wandering right into their web.