Chapter 22: A late night ride in 2023
Martin lay wide awake. His mind kept drifting off to his father. He'd been such a cool guy - dirt-biking, windsurfing - heck - he'd spent two years living on the beach in Hawaii! Martin hated the universe for taking his day away so early. It wasn't fair.
His Mom had always told him that people who think positively live longer, but Martin doubted it. His father had been a very passionate and enthusiastic man, someone who didn't fear death or life, someone who knew what he wanted and knew how to get it. And he'd died at 37. Martin was not like that—not at all. Maybe it was because of his father's early death. Who knew?
He groaned and got up. It was late, almost 1 am, but sleep had eluded him for the past two hours and he wasn't going to try any longer. Starting up his gaming console would be too loud, and thumping upstairs into the attic would surely wake his Mom and stepdad as well. The floorboards up there creaked.
He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and slipped out of his room, tiptoeing down the carpeted stairs and into the kitchen. He opened the fridge. The light hit him at full intensity and he quickly raised his arm to shield himself from the stark brightness. He blinked away the sharp sting. "Anything good?" His eyes raked the shelves and he leaned forward. But nothing special caught his eye. So he settled for a cheese stick and a glass of milk. His Mom never allowed him to have milk and cheese at once - he argued that it was Mac'n'cheese without the noodles but she wouldn't have any 'of your nonsense, young man'.
Martin found there something oddly captivating about the early morning hours - or late night ones, however, you'd like to call them. He loved the thrill of the dark windows, not knowing who or what might be out there. Sometimes he dared himself to go on short walks around the block, but he was usually too afraid to make it past the end of his street. His neighborhood was pretty safe but hey - the US wasn't Switzerland or anything, walking around after dark had its risks.
As a kid, he'd often fantasized about taking his Dad's dirtbike for a joyride in the dead of night. But he neither knew how to ride a motorcycle nor had the key to it. He finished the cheese stick and threw the wrapper into the trash.
I'm not going to brush my teeth again, he decided. He gulped the milk down and put the cup into the sink. For a second he just stood there, watching the empty cup intensely as if expecting it to move. Of course, it didn't. It wasn't going to. Not unless he touched it first.
Nothing ever happens unless it gets a small push from something - or someone - else.
He glanced up the stairs. He could hear no sound of stirring from up where his parents slept. He walked toward the front door as if in a trance and started to put his shoes on. He didn't care that he was in his pajama bottoms. Sixteen-year-olds like Martin wouldn't care if they went to school dressed so shabby. He pulled a coat off of one of the hooks on the wall and zipped it up, pulling the hoodie over his head. Silent as a slaughtered lamb he unlocked the door and stepped out into the crisp night air.
He pocketed the key and headed over to the garage door which he opened and then closed behind him. He pushed the button so that the sliding garage door - the main one - slowly pulled up to display the empty street in front of his house.
He walked over to the dirtbike. He touched it. The plastic of the cover was smooth against his palm. Nothing ever happens unless somebody does something.
As he stared at the motorcycle he noticed something he'd never seen before. There was no need for a key. There was only a lock around the tire, and that had a pin code. The bike was a kick-start. He hurriedly dropped to his knee and began to fiddle with the combination. He was sure he knew exactly what the code was - 2007 - the year he'd been born. His Mom had told him that his father had been thrilled out of his mind when Deborah had gotten pregnant even though the pregnancy had been accidental. And she'd said he'd changed pretty much everything to his birthday. The license plate of their car had had the number 2007 in it for years.
He was right. The lock clicked open.
Nothing was holding him back.
Well, except for the fact that he didn't know how to drive-
"Whatchu doin'?"
Martin startled and nearly hit his head on the bike as he jerked upwards to see who'd spoken. In front of his garage door stood a girl. She stood there in her flip-flops, arms crossed over her chest. "Watchu doin'?" She repeated. "Are you deaf or something?"
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