Death on Wheels
The rumbling started just as Chronos propped his feet up on the coffee table to settle in for a bit of TV. Startled, he glanced around the room but couldn’t find the source of the noise.
As it grew louder, he could feel the vibration through the soles of his feet when he stood up. The hourglass on the credenza shook, scattering time in waves that would affect the mortal population on Earth.
Something was coming – something big.
Just as the noise reached an unbearable level, the double doors to his house flew open of their own volition. Chronos stared at the open expanse, wondering what creature was about to pay a visit.
He covered his ears in a desperate attempt to stop the rattling going on inside his brain as an image of flames and chrome filled his vision.
It was Death on a Harley.
“Greetings, my friend. Do you like my new bike?”
Chronos took in the leather-clad spectre, complete with black visor on the helmet.
“Turn that thing off, will you? My teeth are vibrating and I can’t hear a word you’re saying.”
“Sorry, dude.” Death turned the key after one last gun to the engine. “I said, how do you like my new bike?”
Chronos cautiously removed his hands, his ears still ringing from the commotion. He smiled at the flames painted on the gas tank. The chopper suited Death.
“It’s nice, but did you have to drive it into my living room? It might drip oil on the carpet.”
Death looked down at the green shag that hadn’t been changed since the ’70s, but decided not to say anything.
“Hop on. I have a collection to make but I thought I’d swing by and pick you up. It’ll be fun. We’ll take the scenic route there.”
He tossed a helmet at Chronos. The scythe emblem on the side of it matched the one Death wore. Chronos laughed as he caught it.
“You never cease to amuse me.” He slipped the helmet on and straddled the back of the bike.
They wound their way towards the appointed place, Chronos enjoying the wind whipping at his robes. Leaning side to side as they banked into turns at high speed, he settled into the rhythm and took in the scenery.
Too soon, Death turned the bike toward their objective – the island of Madagascar. He let the wheels touch into the surf, spraying water that soaked Chronos.
“Did you enjoy the ride?” Death asked after he made his collection.
“I did, although I can see the advantages of wearing leather.” He wrung more seawater out of his clothes.
“Good. You haven’t really experienced the complete thrill of the ride yet, my friend. Perhaps you’ll allow me to start the engine for the trip back?” Death dropped his jaw in a laugh.
“All right. But if I’m deaf by the time we get home you’ll owe me.”
“No worries.” Death turned the key and the engine roared to life.