The sky was a washed-out gray as the day crept into a late afternoon. Harold rode in silence behind Nadine, the motorcycle growling under him as they wound their way through the twisting mountain road. He felt the bitter chill bite through his coat, his fingers numbing as he gripped the handlebars. In a way, he welcomed it; the sharp cold matched the bleakness inside, the hollow feeling left in the wake of his betrayal. Boulder had turned its back on him, and he had returned the favor. Now, there was nothing left but the road ahead and the dark promise of what lay in Vegas. Harold gripped the handlebars with white-knuckled intensity. Nadine was expressionless, ahead of him now, accelerating. Harold huffed, teeth gritted as he sped up, glancing down at his speedometer.

"Nadine!" He yelled desperately over the whipping wind passing by them, eyes widened behind his helmet. But then, just as he was about to pull even with her, Nadine’s brake lights flared. She jerked her bike, her wheels almost skidding. Harold’s eyes widened, whipping his head back to look at her. His tires fought for grip, and the world lurched, tipping as the bike slid sideways, and suddenly he was careening off the road. Time seemed to stretch as he felt himself thrown from the seat, his body tossed forward into the cold, open air. The world spun, earth and sky flipping as he tumbled down the ravine, branches snapping against his body. He felt a sharp, blinding pain as he landed against something solid—a jutting branch, thick and splintered. The impact stole his breath, his scream swallowed by the emptiness around him...

He didn’t know how long hes been lying there now... The sky above him had shifted, the last of the daylight fading. His mouth was dry, his throat raw, with the taste of iron lingering. The blood around his mouth had dried, crusted against his skin. It was going to take hours for him to bleed out... He knew that now.

Just as his eyes began to drift, he heard it... a faint shout — Or was that just his dazed mind playing tricks?