Further Adventures of the Borderland Biker -Chapter 15

 

 

For Chapter 14 Click Here

 

 

 “Bilbo would often say there was only one Road; that it was like a great river: its springs were at every doorstep, and every path was its tributary. It’s a dangerous business going out your door. You step into the Road, and if you don’t keep your feet, there is no knowing where you might be swept off to.”

__Frodo Baggins from THE FELLOWSHIP OF THE RING by: J.R.R. Tolkien

 

 “The rabbit-hole went straight on like a tunnel for some way, and then dropped suddenly down, so suddenly that Alice had not a moment to think about stopping herself before she found herself falling down a very deep well.”__Lewis Carroll from ALICE IN WONDERLAND

 

__Charon from THE BORDERLAND BIKER

 

Henry Vaughan from I SAW ETERNITY THE OTHER NIGHT

 

 

The ride to Ma n’ Pa’s house from where we’d left Bartlett, once the size of a car but now back to normal spider size, at the wisteria covered wooden fence took ten minutes. 

 

“Check the front door;” said Larry, “I’ll check in back.”

 

Larry and I parked our bikes then went our separate ways. Climbing the steps reminded me of when I was a little kid walking up to the pink door of our neighbor Mrs. Floyd to go trick or treating. A couple of knocks, no response…a couple of…“Is anybody in there?”…no response…and then I saw the note folded in the door jam. It was from Hilts.

 

“Go ahead and read it,” Larry had walked around from the back of the house.”

 

It had been written on the back of a brown paper bag. 

__HILTS

 

“We’ll leave at twilight…no later,” said Larry. “We need the time until then to gather whatever we may need. Ma n’ Pa would’ve anticipated us scrounging around for those things. In fact we’ll probably find most of them inside their house. The door’s unlocked; let’s see if I’m right.”

 

Ma n’ Pa’s house was as I remembered, from its fireplace to its surreal furniture. At the foot of the fireplace were two small backpacks. Larry picked up the nearest, opened it and reached inside.

 

“My size, somehow I knew I’d pick the right one,” said Larry as he held out a hooded sweatshirt.

 

Clothing, flashlights, first-aid kits, no weapons; the backpacks were similarly packed with the same items.

 

“I’m leaving my Raider; Hilts will need it. We’ll ride double on yours. If we find another bike on the way I’ll borrow it. In the meantime I suggest we use the remaining time to get some rest. We’ve both been running on fumes and there’s no telling when we’ll get another chance.”

 

We’d overslept and it wasn’t until after sunset we were finally ready to leave. With the exception of the three quart bottles of Elisa’s magical coffee and the dreamcatcher, our backpacks were filled as we’d found them. Larry left the keys in his Raider and was in the process of finishing a short note telling Hilts the direction we were headed.

 

“He’ll track us but this note will help,” said Larry as he taped the note to his gas tank.

 

“Any traveling we do, especially through normal space-time, should be done at night. On the plus side we’ll encounter less people, less people hopefully less problems. I’ll co-pilot. I’m not expecting any problems so I won’t say ride shotgun.” 

 

Closing the front door to Ma n’ Pa’s house, Larry then descended the front steps and climbed onto the back of the Raider. A tap on my shoulder to get us moving and within seconds I was riding out of the driveway and onto the garden path that would lead us back to where we’d first entered the Borderland.

 

The sky was cloudless and the constellations somewhat different in shape and position from what I learned to recognize in my youth. Because the sky was cloudless a near full moon provided more than enough light for me to find my way back to the wooden fence where we’d left Bartlett. The wisteria blossoms were gone, as I somehow knew they would be, as well as any sign of Bartlett. Any sign of a web had also disappeared.

 

Larry laughed, “Like the man says, location, location, location. Bartlett’s most likely moved somewhere else in the garden where the blossoms last longer and there’s more insect activity; he’s a survivor, he’ll be ok.

 

“Hilts said we should begin listening to our ear radios from where we first came into this Borderland. He said from there the signal would lead us to ‘the’ ROAD and across into normal space time. If we retrace out route from here to the where we came out of the tunnel we should be there in less than ten minutes.”

 

 

The ride back to the tunnel brought back pleasant memories of when Larry and I helped Pa tend the surrounding orchards. Memories of helping prune and harvest those orchards, now bathed in moonlight, made me look forward to meeting up with Ma n’ Pa.

 

“Things have changed more than I expected.” said Larry after I’d parked and he’d gotten off the back of the Raider. “I wasn’t surprised the wisteria blossoms had faded or that Bartlett had moved to where there were other flowers in bloom. I just wasn’t expecting this.”

 

What neither Larry or I were expecting to see was the tunnel that led to the hundred and fifty foot hole that led up to Bartlett’s Borderland was now just the overgrown ruins of an old rock silo.

 

“Turn your ear radio on. The path continues on through the orchards. The signal’s strong in mine; if it gets stronger we’ll know this path’s heading where this Borderland crosses over into normal space-time. What’s happened here is probably similar to what happened back at the wooden fence where Bartlett had his web in the wisteria. Ma can explain it, I can’t. We need to get going.”

 

Turning on my ear radio brought the song “Oh Rose Maria” by the Fascinators in loud and clear. Two minutes on the path brought the signal in even clearer. We were riding in the right direction. 

 

Fifteen more minutes of following the path and the orchards ended with the path intersecting a small two lane road. The road was paved and bordered by old oaks and split-rail fences on both sides. Some of the oaks had overhanging branches that reached out and over the road. 

 

“It’s potholed;” said Larry a few minutes later pointing at the road, “plus the signal’s been getting weaker since we left the path through the orchards and started down this road, which means we’ve left the Borderland.”

“It may be getting weaker,” I said, “but it’s still clear in the direction we’re going. We’re on the right road.”

 

[page break]

 

 

 

 

 Or maybe it’s an unseen road

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We continued to ride through the night, through and around small towns and villages. We’d stop at truck stops for a quick cup of coffee and to get gas and then move on following the signal being broadcast from the Jukebox at the Styx Diner. The signal had stopped getting fainter and was slowly getting stronger. The signal getting stronger meant we were heading in the right direction. The question was would we have enough time to follow it to a crossover that would allow us to enter another section of Ma n’ Pa’s Borderland before dawn. Already the sky was beginning to lighten.

 

“The signal’s getting stronger,” I said after listening to the last of the song “Book of Love” by The Monotones, “but no where near the strength it was when we crossed over from the last section of Borderland. We need to find a place to hole-up.”

 

“We passed an abandoned water tower,” replied Larry, “a few miles back. It’s isolated and off the road and there are no nearby houses. We may not find a better place to hole-up for the day. I move we go back there.”

 

“I second the motion. The last thing we want is to be scrambling for shelter.”

 

In the time it took us to turn around and ride back to the water tower the sky had already lightened enough for me to see the surrounding area. Next to some adjacent sheds and nearby fields the water tower had been converted for storage and then abandoned. Farm equipment and tools had once been stored inside with a ladder leading up into what had once been the water tank. Its top was leaning inward.

 

Larry gazed around the inside walls, “I’ve seen water towers like this converted into small houses. This one hasn’t seen water in years and from the look of things hasn’t been used for storing equipment in quite awhile. Although it looks like someone stored something under a canvas tarp.” 

 

Naturally I had to walk over and see what was under it, “It’s a gray Yamaha Road Warrior.”

 

“Something old, something new,” laughed Larry, “something borrowed, something blue…gray will do.”