Chapter 2 - THE GRAVEYARD OF EXPERTS

For a split second, there was nothing but the hum of the electrical system.

Then, the 2,400cc engine caught.

It didn't sputter. It didn't cough. It exploded into life with a concussive BOOM that physically pushed the air away from the stage.

The sound was monstrous, deep, and guttural. It sounded like thunder trapped inside an oil drum. Flames, bright blue and orange, licked out of the custom exhaust pipes.

The crowd went absolutely feral.

Forty thousand motorcycles started in unison, a mechanical symphony that shook the dust from the desert floor, but soaring above all of it, leading the choir, was the deafening roar of the Iron Beast.

Logan rolled the throttle. The bike responded with terrifying, beautiful power. The vibrations traveled up his arms, into his chest, syncing with his own racing heartbeat.

He looked over at Ray, who had pulled Logan’s massive black Street Glide up to the edge of the stage. Leo was awkwardly climbing onto the back seat, holding his canvas tool roll.

"Hold on tight, kid!" Ray shouted over the deafening noise.

Logan clicked the Beast into first gear with a heavy, satisfying clunk. He eased off the clutch. The massive machine crept forward, rolling down the custom ramp off the main stage.

The crowd parted like the Red Sea.

Hells Angels, Mongols, Iron Horsemen, independent riders—men and women who would normally fight over a spilled beer—stood shoulder to shoulder, revving their engines, tears streaming down weathered faces, cheering as Logan rode past.

He rode slowly toward the front gates. The broadcast drone hovered overhead, capturing the image of the lone, massive motorcycle leading an ocean of chrome and steel.

As they reached the highway entrance, Logan slowed down, allowing Ray to pull up alongside him.

Leo was grinning from ear to ear, his oily uniform flapping in the wind.

Logan pointed at the boy.

"Hey, Leo!" Logan yelled over the roaring engines.

"Yeah?" Leo shouted back.

"You quit that gas station!" Logan roared. "You hear me? You're done pumping gas!"

Leo’s smile faltered for a second. "But I need the job!"

"You have a job!" Logan pointed to the Iron Beast. "This machine needs a master tech! And my shop needs a chief engineer! You’re coming to work for me!"

Leo's eyes went wide. He looked at Ray, who nodded firmly and slapped the kid’s knee.

"You earned it, son," Ray yelled.

Logan faced forward. The open highway stretched out before them, shimmering in the morning heat. For the first time in nearly a decade, the road didn't look like a punishment. It looked like freedom.

But as they hit sixty miles an hour, Logan noticed a red light flashing on the lower edge of the dashboard. It was small, almost invisible in the sunlight.

It wasn't an engine warning. It was a proximity sensor.

Logan tapped his helmet comms, linking to Ray. "Ray, you seeing this?"

"Seeing what?"

"My dash," Logan said, his eyes narrowing. "The tracker the kid pulled out... he said it was a GPS and a kill switch."