“Don’t look now, but I think we’re being followed.” Xander pressed his nose against the small glass window in the back door of the van to get a better look.
Willow moved over to look out the other window, but tried the optimistic approach. “Maybe they’re just going the same way we are.”
The headlights of several motorcycles had appeared behind them way back at the State Street junction at Parkdale Cemetery. It was not exactly the scenic route to take for visitors going to Sunnydale Park. Plus, it was after dark, and way past time for a picnic.
From the driver’s seat, Oz asked them, “Police?”
One motorcycle approached so closely that the glare from the headlights dimmed. A scraggly bearded bald man with a strange symbol tattooed on his cheek made eye contact with them. The biker lifted his gloved hand to point toward the side of the road.
“Pull over!” he shouted loud enough to hear.
Gulping, Xander shook his head. “Unless the cops have new uniforms, I’m guessing not.”
Checking out the side view mirror, Oz was not entirely surprised. “Are they vampires? Maybe they think we’ve got Cordelia.”
They looked human enough, Xander supposed, but all the undead types did until the last second when they showed their fangy side. “Don’t stop to find out. Lose them!”
Oz put his foot down harder on the gas pedal causing the blue 1974 Ford Econoline van to lurch in protest as it sped down the otherwise empty road.
Squealing when the motorcycles picked up speed, Willow waved her hands around in a nervous display. “Drive faster, faster, Oz!”
A droll reminder followed, “This isn’t a Mazzerati.” The chance of outrunning those bikes was nil. They were faster and more maneuverable than the old van.
That did not mean Oz was out of ideas.
Running the red light at the intersection past Shady Hill Cemetery and Maple Court Road, the van turned sharply into the elite property development that contained the most modern estates in town. “Maybe we can lose them in here.”
Willow moved back up to front and practically fell into the passenger seat. “Do you know where you’re going?”
“Buckle up,” Oz held out one hand to steady her. “The Dingoes played a few gigs in the neighborhood. Private parties. We made the rounds a few times.”
Driving past the first big house, locally known as Kendal Corner, he turned the van onto a gravel road that led toward the far section of the property. The gravel crunched under the tires bouncing noisily off the metallic bottom of the van. The wheels kicked up a cloud of dust and tiny rocks forcing the motorcycles to slow down and fall back.
“They’re still coming,” warned Xander as he jostled around in the back trying to hold his balance and keep an eye out the window.
Oz hoped that the dust cloud would mask the van when he made the next turn. The gravel road ended diverging into a small cluster of maintenance roads. After only a short distance, he cut off the road crossing an open field and pulled in behind a small stable.
“Is this going to work?”
Rushing up to join them, Xander leaned over the seat. “We’re sitting ducks. The van is baby blue. Not exactly the stuff of cloaked ships.”
Moonlight was intermittent. Dark clouds crowded the sky floating in from the south providing some cover for the van parked in the deep shadow of the stable.
Shutting off the headlights and the engine, Oz motioned for silence with a finger lifted to his lips. “Not so loud. Listen.”
Xander and Willow clamped their mouths closed following instructions. The sound of engines and the slow crunch of gravel got closer and closer. The bikers were moving slowly, searching, but it was impossible to tell how many of them were out there. Or if they knew that they had left the main road.
“I think they’re going away,” whispered Willow literally on the edge of her seat. With a gulp, she reached for the door handle, and opened the door, pausing briefly when it creaked on its hinges.
Though he normally appreciated Willow’s curiosity, Oz was not certain that it was a good idea to take chances. “Maybe you shouldn’t—”
“Will, no,” hissed Xander just before he scooted up to the front and followed her out the open door.
Oz sighed deeply, shook his head, and then did the same. He caught up with Willow and Xander at the corner of the stables. “See anything?”
Nodding, Willow jerked back from her peeking position and flattened herself against the stable wall. Eyes wide, her brow furrowed as she mimed a biker holding onto the handlebars. She pointed toward her eyes before making a spidery movement with two fingers toward Xander who scratched his head, looking confused.
“You know I was never any good at Charades.”
Willow clapped a hand over his mouth just as a gruff yell sounded, “Over here!”
Lickety-split they ran back toward the van only to see a motorcycle come around the other side of the stable. Making a run for it, they headed for the open door, trying to scramble inside. Before they could climb in, the second motorcycle came to a sharp stop on the driver’s side of the van kicking up dirt. One of its two riders hopped off the back.
“Get out kid,” the biker growled at Oz as he made a move toward the driver’s seat.
Suddenly wishing there was a full moon tonight Oz opted for trying to reason with the man. “It’s just us. We’re not hiding anything—or anyone.”
The bikers had gathered in full force now surrounding the van. “Do we look like the cops?” he barked a laugh. The others chuckled right along. “We don’t want you. We want the van.”
“Oh,” Willow tugged on Oz’ t-shirt to get him to back out of the van door. “We kind of need the van tonight. I’m pretty sure there’s a rental place somewhere on the other side of town.”
“Nice try, girlie. Close the door, back the fuck away, and no one gets hurt.” He climbed into the seat, hands flexing on the steering wheel as he waited for her to comply.
The three of them shared a look, a shrug and a nod of agreement choosing to move back toward the stable. As soon as they were out of the way the van started moving and the other bikers started circling to get into position behind it kicking up dust and dirt as they disappeared around the corner one by one.
Xander stepped away from the stable wall to face Willow and Oz. “They sure didn’t act like vampires. Why would a bunch of bikers want your van?”
“To put something in it that they can’t carry on their motorcycles,” Willow guessed.
It seemed reasonable. Oz pointed out, “I use the van to carry the Dingos’ equipment to our gigs. Good thing I unloaded it before we came out tonight so we’d have a safe place to stash the prisoner once he’s found.”
“So much for that idea,” sighed Willow as they started to walk back the way they came. “What now? There’s no time to call the police about the van even if we did have a phone. We’re supposed to be at the train station—like now.”
Xander stopped when they reached the gravel path that led back to the main road. Lights were shining from the windows of the house on the corner. “Hey, isn’t that Harmony’s house?”
Without waiting for an answer, he started to walk across the carefully trimmed lawn toward the front entrance. Willow hissed at him, “You don’t think Harmony will help us, do you? She’s not going to give us a ride to the train station. Doesn’t she blame you for corrupting Cordelia’s cool factor?”
“She should be thanking me,” Xander pressed his finger to the doorbell. “Now she’s the leader of those numb-brains who used to hang around Cor—The Cordettes.”
“So what are they now, the Harmonizers?” After a long pause, both Willow and Xander doubled over with laughter stopping only when Oz cleared his throat loudly.
Looking up they saw that the front door was open. Harmony stood there glaring at them. “Well, well, if it isn’t Cordelia’s favorite geek and red-headed sidekicks.”
