Chapter Twenty Three

Hep’s minimal research told him Reverend Cyrus Evander Milton’s next scheduled revival was going to be in Hope, Arkansas. Since they had a passenger, and a parrot, travelling with them, they were going to have to stick to six hour days which meant it would be a three day ride. With luck, they’d arrive in time to have some lunch and stretch their legs (and wings) a bit before they had to get to the circus tent the revival was going to be in that night.

Currently, the three of them, and Killer the parrot, were just an hour or two west of Dallas, and had stopped at a rest area to stretch, drink some water and have a snack. They had found a shaded picnic table, and sat around it munching on beef jerky and corn nuts. Sarah had cut up some fruit for Killer, and put out a bowl of water. The bird was in high spirits, and spent as much time throwing the food around as it did eating.

One of the other people stopped at the rest area noticed Killer, and walked over to chat.

“Say, are you guys traveling with that bird on those motorcycles over there?” he asked. He was wearing a thin plaid shirt with pearl snaps, and a string tie, along with a pair of brand new Wranglers and beat up cowboy boots.

“Sure are,” Sarah said. Killer was jumping up and down on the table with a piece of orange held firmly in his beak.

“Is that safe for the bird?” the traveller asked.

Sarah would have replied, but Killer had chosen that moment to drop the piece of orange, say “I’ll swallow your soul!” and charge down the table towards the man talking to them.

Understandably, the man uttered a little scream and fled without looking back.

“Seriously, I love that fucking bird more every day,” Scroat said.

“He does have his good qualities,” Hep admitted.

They were a little better than half way to Arkansas, and so far the trip had been pretty smooth. The weather had been clear and comfortable, and traffic on the interstate highways had been reasonably light. They decided to press on to Houston and stop there for the night. From there it would be about seven hours to Hope, Arkansas.

Hep could see storm clouds gathering on the horizon to the East, and he hoped they would make it to Houston before the storm reached them. Hep didn’t particularly mind riding in the rain, but a nasty storm could slow them down quite a bit if traffic got messed up. And traffic always gets messed up in the rain.

Once every one felt ready, and had a chance to use the restroom, they stashed the food and water back in their bags and fired up the bikes.

The storm did not stay away, as Hep had wished, and actually moved in pretty quickly. They had been on the road again for less than half an hour when the wind picked up. They could see lightning flashing in the distance. A few minutes later, the first drops of rain hit them. They pulled over under a bridge to put on their rain gear, and Sarah stuffed Killer in her jacket so only his head poked out. Killer squawked at her in protest, but settled in when he realized she wasn’t going to let him out. Sarah felt bad, because Killer loved being out in the rain, but she was worried he might spread his wings and get blown away. He was trained to stay by her, but shit happens and she wasn’t about to lose her bird.

The storm grew in intensity, and the lightning seemed to get closer and closer to them. They rode on through the downpour, even as the rain came hard enough to reduce visibility to fifty feet ahead of them. Thunder boomed and crashed, and they saw a tree in the distance get hit by lightning and burst into flame.

Sarah was suddenly very aware that they were riding across a wide open plain.

The wind became more violent, and soon they discovered any exposed skin they had been unaware of as the rain drops turned into little needles poking at them over and over. Killer ducked down inside of Sarah’s jacket, and stayed there.

Hep and Scroat rode on, accelerating even, determined to make it to Houston that day. They passed several billboards and signs for nearby motels, and Sarah was about ready to kill Scroat for passing all of them.

Great gusts of wind came and blew against them, forcing Scroat to lean into the wind just to continue riding in a straight line. Hep was getting soaked even under his rain gear, as were Scroat and Sarah.

The storm did not let up, even when they’d reached Houston. They stopped at the first motel they saw. They went into the lobby, where the clerk’s face fell as soon as he saw the three dripping bikers. And their parrot.

“I’m sorry,” the clerk said, “we have a no pets policy.” He was a thin, balding and fussy-looking man, with a nasal voice and glasses which didn’t suit him and made him look kind of like a myopic turtle. One with a bad attitude.

“Aw, come on,” Hep said, “You’re not going to send us back out into this weather over a little bird are you?”

The clerk looked at the bird with distaste, then back at Hep. “I am indeed going to send you back out into this weather, if you intend to keep the bird in one of our rooms. Company policy, I’m sorry.”

“You gotta be fucking kidding me,” Scroat said under his breath.

“Let me talk to the manager, please,” Sarah said. “Perhaps he’ll bend the rules for us, given that we can pay in cash, and are soaked to the bone.”

“I am the manager, “ the fussy clerk snapped, “ and you can take your cash to another motel. One which allows pets. Good day to you all.” He turned to go back into the office.

“Fuck you and the fucking horse you fucking rode in on, you fucker!” Killer said, and chuckled.

“Excuse me?!” the clerk exclaimed, but the three of them had already turned and were walking out the door.

“You wait just one minute!” the clerk shouted and chased them. Hep and Scroat fired up their bikes, and Scroat paused for a moment to give the clerk the middle finger and a toothy grin, then they rode off to find another motel.

They didn’t have a hard time finding a motel which allowed pets. As a matter of fact, the very next motel they stopped at did allow pets, and the clerk made a big deal about how adorable the biker parrot was, and laughed when the bird screeched “Join us!”

The clerk also promised to bring an armload of towels to their rooms in just a few minutes, and she offered to let them use the motel’s dryer for their wet clothes, an offer they gratefully accepted.

Once they had changed out of their wet clothes, the three of them ordered a couple of pizzas. The pizza was greasy, and the crust was terrible, but they enjoyed it all the same because it was hot and they weren’t out in the storm any longer. Hep made sure to give the pizza man an extra big tip for contending with the weather to bring them their pies.

After they’d eaten, they went back to their respective rooms and collapsed in to their beds. The beds were old and squeaky, and the most comfortable any of them had slept in for a while.