Roadracer's day

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Action and Adventure  |  House: Booksie Classic
It was not meant to make sense...It was meant to make joy...share the joy if you find it.

Submitted: April 27, 2016

A A A | A A A

Submitted: April 27, 2016

A A A

A A A


 

 

Road Racer’s day

Written by

Heena Soni

 

 

Cutting through the heated dessert a neat highway was laid peacefully. However the peace was slashed through by a silencer of a bike that left a deep cut in the peace of road within micro seconds. It was too fast for a pedestrian to spot the model of bike, let alone recognizing the biker. He was noticed but unidentified until he overtook and faradize. The lady driver was equally drunk with speed as the biker. She was taken aback by sudden over take. She further accelerated to usher herself in the open race. She might not win but she was expecting to have a glance at whoever he was.

She came across him. She turned to look at him, along with keeping the track of her driving. Most riders would turn their heads at her cherry lips, glistening shades and glossy strands of hair. But he didn’t… not even when she was ahead of him, already blew horn two times and was clearly turning her head to look at him. He was focused at his path, which certainly leads him to a destination he was eager to reach.

Finally she gave up and slowed down. “Freak!” she said to herself. Her eyes were still looking for a sneak into wherever he was heading to. She stayed behind him, though unintentionally, and worried more her own path and on her own vehicle. She caught a look at the wrapped present on the front seat of her car and further slowed down her speed. She is on her way towards a purpose, not for an open-highway- race-with-strangers.

However, the moment she desired to know about the purpose of this biker dude, she became destined to know it. He stopped outside and colossal building that was parked around with enormous trucks. Two gigantic elephant statues were placed outside the gateway of the building. She stopped at a distance from him such that he wouldn’t take any notice of her. He went inside the building. She paused for half a minute.

“Fucking curiosity!” she murmured after that. Then she pulled on the gear and started, shaking herself out of other people’s business. But she maintained a slow speed and passed by his huge black bike (she couldn’t identify the model (although it was a few feet away)) that was parked outside the building. And of course, she bent down to glace through the open gateway, in hope of any clue.  God knows what this building was. There was nothing written outside. She hadn’t noticed it but she had stopped there, right outside, until she saw someone coming out. It was definitely the same guy. She recognized the black jacket with blue shoulder lines.

She didn’t accelerate. Instead she utilized the opportunity to gaze at him head to toe so that she can identify him. He was no one she ever met before. He was tall, broad, had clear skin with brownish tone. His eyes were hidden behind the sea blue sunglasses.

“What’s your problem?” he yelled at her.

She acted as if she didn’t hear anything and pulled up the gate-glasses. Then she twisted her keys with fluffy Poo key ring to concentrate on her own journey. The car started and she turned back one last time (uncontrollably out of curiosity) to give a final look to the guy, the building and maybe his bike (whichever it was). .. Plus, there was a remote in his hand. And BOOM! The building exploded with fire.

“What the hell!?” she yelled. And BOOM! Another blast took off the trucks that were parked outside.

“No way!” she squeezed the accelerator under her right foot to speed out of this crime scene.

Determined to look forward, she kept increasing her speed. She was not going to slow down until there is a cop nearby. Actually, she was looking for a cop.

“Trouble!" Serious trouble!” she kept grumbling, daring not to glance at the rear view mirror. He must be following.

And he appeared in her rear view… crystal clear… near- near- nearer. And then he waved with his remote, pointed at her and pressed the button. BOOM! It was blast of panic in her body (Not actual blast in her car).  Her palms chilled on steering and she lost control for a few seconds. But she held it back and swifted away from him. Then he came down to business and increase his speed, rolling his bike only on the back wheel, he overtook as biker again.  Then he stopped his bike in the middle of the road to block her way.

She saw him. “If you’re ready to kill me!” she yelled. “I’m ready to KILL YOU!” She didn’t even slow down, aimed her car at him in an attempt to wipe him out of the way . He saw that merciless look on her face and grabbed the handles, instead of running away according to what she expected.  Suddenly, a thought of the present she was taking for someone, stopped her from hitting him.  Plus she will be injured (or killed) as well. She stopped with a serene look on her face. (Also she is a girl {who mostly have a kind heart [And he is too hot to get killed (Criminal… but hot)]}).

“What happened?” he got down from his bike and placed his arm above her window. He smiled at her, wicked. She looked at the guns that were fitted in his belt.

“Listen, U can take my credit cards, I don’t have any cash with me. I won’t tell anything to anyone.”  Words flushed out of her mouth. He kept nodding, looking at her red lips (finally, he noticed) as she spoke. “My grandmother is 80 years old. It’s her birthday. She is an art lover.  My father gave me this painting of Kurram Shah.” She held the brown packet in her hand. “He asked me safeguard it with my life.” He kept nodding. She gave a second look to the packet, had an idea and said, “You can take this but leave me.”

“Expensive haan,” he took the packet in his hands.  Then he threw it on the road and shot several holes in it. She buried her head in the steering wheel.

 “What do you want?” she screamed.

“Assistance,” he said and placed a gun on her head “For next spot.”  Obviously he had more destruction to make and people to kill. But a gun point at head can erase the difference of right or wrong, good or bad, karma etc. 

“Fine.” She said, without a question.

“Good! Come outside.” He held the gate open for her.

She stepped out. Sun rays reflected on her glossy lips, and cheeks and goggles, (and she knew it {proud of it [from the way he was staring at them]}).

“Do you have a scarf?” he asked.

“Yes” she pointed at her car.

“Get it and cover your face completely with it. And do it perfectly. Don’t blame me later.”

“Hah?” she shrugged.

“Just do it now.” 

She took out her scarf from back seat.  Meanwhile he called someone and said something in a language she didn’t know. But he did mention her car to the person. After she was done with covering up with scarf and goggles, he asked her to ride the bike.

They rode for ten kilometers. With his gun pointed at her waist she couldn’t change the direction at her own will.

It was barren land on both sides of road, until both of them noticed a yellow flag erect on the sand-covered land on left side of road.  Her father’s godown has to be somewhere nearby at this place. It was a place where she suspected that he used for some sort of smuggling.

“Stop!” he said and squeezed the back break. The bike stopped. She gave out a cry. “Sorry. It was unintentional.”

Then he got down and walked towards the flag. He dug a hole in sand near the upright of flag and revealed a scanner. There he placed an identity card and it was accepted. Then he moved back to the hot girl standing aside of his hot bike.

“Get ready.” He unchained the side bag of the bike and took out a strange gun with micro gun point. This will paralyze them for 20 minutes. Shoot this at every person you see. No… you take this one. “ He took out a heavy machine gun.

“What? I can’t kill my own people.” She said, distancing from him in denial.

“This one’s not for people,” he said.

A few moments later, the land behind the flag began to sink down in sand.

“Ready!” he said. She started  the bike and land sunk into a giant tunnel mouth. He wore helmet and she was covered with scarf. They rode into it. Small lights on both side glimmered their path inside it.

A guard appeared at a distance and he shot him with the paralizer. Within a second he fell unconscious on the road, with his head right in the way of bike’s wheel.

She pushed the breaks suddenly and bike lost its balance. But he handled it with one hand and they stopped just at a distance of nano seconds from the guard’s head getting under the wheel.

“Quit bike hear.” He got down. She took out the big gun from side bag and followed him as a loyal comrade accompanying him in invading her father’s godown. They got almost everyone down within ten minutes. Soon they reached a store room. He  kicked the gate open. There were four guards inside. He shot one with paralizer. Rest three jumped on him.

She freezed at the gate. If they catch her she will be in a big trouble.  Considering several previous acts of her as a disobeying child, her father will never believe that she was forced into it. Plus, she don’t want to be seen as a coward… plus she can’t see herself as a coward (subtly, she can’t let him down [the bike guy]). One of the men looked at her and she pointed the big fat gun point at him. However, the men didn’t hesitate at all. Probably, he could see her unease at holding that gun straight. He kept coming closer.

She wanted to say, “stay back I will shoot.”  But she had special instructions to not utter a word. The men kept approaching closer. Her feet began to tremble. He stretched his arm towards her scarf and fell on her in nosedive, paralyzed, unconscious. She jerked him away, grateful that he was shot on perfect timing.

“Come on in,” said the bike guy. She entered the room. Three men laid on the floor. All the walls were covered with paintings.  They were of all sizes. Each one was distinctive and noticeable to a non-art-lover like her.  The one that instantly caught her eye was of a horse rider dressed in black, riding and sparkling black horse in a dark night with a lamp in his hand that threw diamond white light at things he was passing by. Hope! Pure hope was all this painting was about.

“Give it to me,” he said, indicating towards the machine gun. She hesitated. How was she going to protect herself from him. Finally he snatched the gun from her. And then began the thunders of machine gun. He began shooting four to five holes in each of the painting. She sat down, bent, covering her years and head with her fragile hands. She noticed  that he had dropped the paralizer after knocking off the last guy.  She reached out for it and grabbed it in her hand.

“Let’s go now,” he said when he was done with destroying each one of the master piece.  She was expecting him to shoot her as well. “C’mon I am a good guy.”

She stood up and they left . Back on the road they were. He let her sit behind.

The sun was getting soft as the day was moving towards evening. Wind became cold and she become all the more accommodated with him.

“Why don’t you ask anything,” he said.

“What’s your name?” she said.

He chuckled. “Good question! Girls usually ask for my number at the first place.” And then he stopped at a gas station.  “Come.”

She stood outside and he went inside the store.

She wondered what was going to happen now. The paintings must have caused huge loss to her father. Someone must have seen her. How would she explain things if she ever got home?

He came out with the fluffy Poo key ring in his hand. “Your car is parked behind this station. Take it and go home.”

“What?” she said. “What will I say to Dad for all that destruction?”

“Shouldn’t you be glad that I’m letting you go?”

“But…”

“And all those paintings were stolen.”

“Hah?”

“Yes your Dad stole them.”

 “But why did we destroy them?”

“Shhhhh… never reveal anything to anyone. Don’t forget, you were also involved in it.”

“Sorry… but what will I say to grandma?”

“That painting was also stolen.”

“Fine.” She grabbed her keys from his hand.

When she unlocked her car that was parked in backyard, there was a big wrapped rectangular packet placed on its back seat, labeled ‘ORIGINAL KURRAM SHAH PAINTING’. She removed the wrapping and unleashed the content. It was the painting… the same painting of hope. She ran back in amazement. But he was off with his bike, riding towards the horizon. She got into her car. Anyway she has to gift this one to her grandmother. She hoped to meet him again on the road but it didn’t happen.

Finally, at the end of the day she reached the hospital room where her grandma was kept. She heard people singing happy birthday song before she entered. It must be the art students. She opens the gate and entered with the big rectangular packet that was undone from a corner. And found her father there, with grandma and her art students. She was bewildered. He never visits her. The most he could do is send a gift. She hadn’t planned any story to be told to him.

“What took you so long?” his father asked.

“I met with an accident and the painting you gave got destroyed so I bought another (Then she remember that there is no credit card transaction) brought it. From a friend. Girlfriend.”

Her father was staring at her. He sighed. “So the last one is also gone.”

“What?”

“Nothing, give grandma her gift.”

“Happy Birthday Grandma!!!!” she yelled. “I’ve got a very special present!”

“It was best birthday”, said the old lady on laying on her bed. “I saw my son after so long.” Although, her son came to check on the last artifact left and take it away with him. He looked as his daughter unpacked the painting. And he was taken aback. “How do you have it?”

“Wow!” “Wow!” “Kurram Shah’s Rays of hope!” “magnificent!” “Amazing!”, said those art students. “I’m his fan!”

Her father was frowning in doubt. Finally he got up and came close to her. “Where did you get it?”

“A friend arranged it, I said before.”

“It must be duplicate!” he said. The exact painting is lying destroyed in his godown.

“I don’t know. I was told that it is original.”

“You’re fooled!” he dialed a number and moved outside the room. She also had a feeling that the painting she brought was duplicate. But her job was to make grandma happy and it was done . So she joined the party with art students. But none of them stopped talking about the painting. It was making her uncomfortable and nervous as they googled about it, wikipided it.

“Look!” one of them showed the image of same painting on internet, then another with its artist, the biker guy.

“Huh!” she took the cell phone of this art student in her hand. “He is ..”

“Kurram Shah!” the student said.

“FUCK!” she spoke, bewildered.

“What happened?” said the art student.

“Sorry,” she said, giving out a meek smile. “Its just that he is too hot to be a painter… no offence!” 

They hanged the painting on wall in front of Grandma’s bed.

That night she couldn’t sleep. Why would an artist destroy his own paintings? Before she puzzled out the answer her phone rang.

“Hi,” said the biker dude on the other side. “You didn’t ask for my number so I found out yours.”

“Did you give me a duplicate painting?” she asked, immediately.

“Obsessed. Haan?” he said. “No I didn’t. It’s original. Gift in return of assistance.  Shot paintings were duplicate.”

“Then, why did you bother shooting them?”

“Because they were stolen from me. I was smart enough to keep duplicates, otherwise anyone would have taken advantage of my fragile art, or its duplicate versions. I had to do it so that they don’t steal from me next time. Also your Dad’s reputation is safe, in front of his clients. That’s an advantage on your side.”

“Hmm…”

“That’s all? ‘Hmm’”

“Don’t even think about black mailing me.”

“No way! I’m a good guy.”

“What about the building?”

“It was  full of duplicates of my artworks.”

“What about your real work?”

“Meet me at ‘Shah Museum’ tomorrow six p.m.”

“I don’t care. Bye! Someone may hear us.”

She cut the call and fell asleep.

Next morning’s newsflash in her cell phone was – ‘Kurram Shah received huge amount of insurance for his stolen paintings. Name of every painting was mentioned, except ‘Rays of hope’. ‘

She didn’t consider it necessary, and she was not afraid of him, but as always, she was curious, so she visited the museum next evening. It was huge, lit with white lights, walls covered with paintings, tourists moving around. 

But she was taken by surprised by something. The painting, right in front of the entrance was a painting of a girl with cherry lips and goggles, driving a car looking at the window. Then she noticed the biker dude standing near it, demonstrating it to a tourist. He was plainly dressed like a normal artist.

He named the painting, ‘road-racer’.

The End

 


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