Grim Reaper

Riding in a triangle formation, Sunny, Nuke, and Voice rode off of I-70 onto Gage Avenue in Topeka, the capitol city of Kansas. Sunny laughed as he remembered participating in the annual Gage parade set up by NORML and the Kaw Valley Hemp Growers Association. It was in those days when all things seemed to be possible and little conflict arose as long as everyone stayed within the parameters of the situation. But nowadays things were different. The slightest provocation or deviation away from what was deemed to be “right” resulted in immediate reaction from the law and from the majority of the citizenry. There was no place in this Kansas society for anyone who wanted to do something out of the ordinary or different. So Sunny rode next to Nuke, the two of them following up Voice who was in the lead point position. They rode down Gage to 19th Street and then cruised leisurely East to Topeka Boulevard and then North toward the capitol building with the sculpture of the Kansa Indian atop the green patina copper dome. The Kansa would become the symbol of Kansas and Kansans in general within the next few years when the state was forced from the union after the Intelligent Design Act of 2006. For now, however, Kansans in general were merely passive-conservative in nature and gullible to some extent when approached by anyone who espoused conservative, religious idealism and were less than hospitable to those who would rebuke the political-cultural stagnation in which they thrived.
Nuke too, remembered the old days of dissension and strife and neither longed for their return nor wished them to be forever gone. Nuke Dimmitus was content. He longed for nothing actually and existed in what he thought to be an interdependent emptiness based on Buddhist teachings. He long ago had given up on formal religious studies but had retained the knowledge and the empowerments given to him in his earlier days of religious study. As he rode next to his friend, Sunny, he just let thoughts arise and disappear like smoke rings. He was conscious at all times of his existence and the relevance to his cosmic place. He still practiced T’ai Chi and Qi Gong meditation but had given up on formal studies of that also. As he followed Voice he did not question what had happened an hour or two earlier. He just let it flow. Rheology he called it. The flow characteristics between one element and another. Although this term was derived scientifically from fluid mechanics, Nuke had adapted it philosophically to include flow characteristics between humans and humans and humans and their environment. It worked out just fine with his easy going demeanor and enabled him to adjust to almost any situation without freaking out. But it was days like this one that would try his patience almost to the breaking point.
As they turned the corner at Topeka Boulevard and 10th Street and headed east, Nuke saw the gathering of people across from the capitol building. With bullhorns and signs, with chants and rude gestures, the Fronk Philps family lashed out at everything and anybody they deemed to be deserving of their wrath. The family consisted of about ten members and a half dozen or so hangers on. They were all in rare form on this day with their particular target being the scientific community in general and participants in the Intelligent Design discussions in particular. The Philps family was firmly entrenched in the ID philosophy and had adapted it to their own use to exclude anyone they wanted to from their ideological construct of society. They viewed their ideas as right no matter what. “Intelligent Design, Mighty Fine,” one sign read, and “Science Shmience,” another. As the three bikers rode by they caught the full force of The Family.
“Hey, you dike!” one of the Philps’ yelled at Voice, “That’s a man’s Harley you’re ridin’, get on home to your lezzy lover and get the hell out of Topeka.” Voice turned and looked at the menagerie of freaky looking members of the homophobic entourage. Sunny saw her eyes flare wide open and then she turned back to the road ahead. “You faggot maggot,” Fronk Philps himself yelled at Nuke, “You and your fudge packin’ friend get out of here, hell is too good for the two of you.” Nuke looked straight ahead and then watched as Sunny dipped out of formation and fell in behind him and Voice. Sunny gunned the Chief to drown out the filth they were spewing out. He looked right at Fronk as he cruised by and gave him the Easy Rider One Finger Wave. Nuke knew then that there would be trouble and there was. The Family surged into the street and blocked Sunny off, pelting him with their signs and spraying him with cans of soda that had been shook up for the purpose. Sunny nearly went down. He kept his cool though and, gunning the engine again, wove his way through the crowd. Speeding up he caught up again with Nuke. Voice pulled up at the on-ramp to I-70 and motioned for them to pull in beside her. The Philps family was hot on their heels, covering the two blocks quickly and closing the gap between them and the bikers.
“Who are these people?” Voice asked.
“They are the Fronk Philps family and they have persecuted everyone who does not believe as they do for several years. They are right-wing conservative, anti-evolution, creationist scum that will do anything to get face time on the local or even national news.” Sunny spat it out like venom. He didn’t have the control that Nuke had over his reaction to these people and he turned the Indian back around to face the onslaught that was soon to come. The Philps Family had murder in their eyes. They wanted blood and Sunny was ready to give it to them. Their own. Sunny had never given into his own emotions the way Nuke had. He let them ride at the surface and would fire off whenever provoked. He had never fully recovered from the time of the Viet Nam war and the things he had seen and done there. He considered it a sort of trial by fire that he had been through and didn’t really want to change. He had other feelings as well and he maintained his cool much the same way as Nuke. He just didn’t do anything to try to prevent what sometimes happened when he was faced with people like the Philps’. For Sunny, the Grim Reaper was a reality. He had seen it and had been a part of it and it was built into him. He gunned the engine and headed for the throng of craziness that was bearing down on him. Then he heard Voice.
“All our times have come, here but now they’re gone, don’t fear the Reaper.” Sunny turned around in the saddle and watched in disbelief as Voice pronounced the Blue Oyster Cult lyrics that Sunny knew well. She had taken on a different countenance. She was standing up on the red Harley that was now covered in flames. She was wearing a necklace of skulls and had a huge scythe in her hand. Her eyes were flaming red and the third eye blazed with a pure blue light that emanated in a beam and spiraled around her and Nuke and Sunny. Her blue jeans and Allman Brothers t-shirt had been replaced by a pure white gown trimmed in gold. Huge white wings spread out from her, tipped with flames. A two-edged sword stuck from her mouth and the words she said were written on the blade and were spoken by the sword in a ringing, melodious tone. The candy apple red Harley turned into a white chariot with wheels of fire and fiery swords protruded from the hubs. A red horse with blazing hooves pranced on the pavement giving off showers of sparks and melting the asphalt surface. Its roar cracked the air as it strained against the reins that Voice held in her left hand. She raised the scythe in her right hand. It glowed cherry red and lightning shot out form its blade. In another hand that appeared from behind her was a leather book that glowed in the pure blue, swirling light. Yet another arm and hand appeared as part of her body and opened the book. Looking with her piercing eyes at the book, she read aloud and the words appeared on the sword and were spoken by the sword. “Shar ain chelal, goko dar kaiin,” she spoke and the steed broke away, fire shooting from its eyes and nostrils and lightning flying from its hooves. Sunny and Nuke fell away and watched in awe. Voice stopped the chariot in the midst of the crowd that now converged on her spewing out their usual filth and trying to take her out. She swung the scythe and severed head after head from its body, collecting them onto her necklace. She dismounted from the chariot and let the brilliant red horse prance on the bodies as she made her way deflecting blows from the fiendish ghouls that the Philps Family had now become. This was the battle between Heaven and Hell. The fiends unleashed hyena like hell-hounds that jumped on her back and on the back of the horse. Making her way she headed directly toward Fronk Philps who now appeared in a black robe. Letting go of the scythe, Voice dislodged the golden sword from in front of her and severed Fronk Philps’ head from his body. Holding up the leather book she opened to another page. “Chear shor chaiin,” the words emanated from the sword and the body of Fronk Philps vanished. When the crowd saw this they stopped in fear. Without their leader they were nothing. But on this day it was too late for them to retreat. Voice remounted the chariot and went meticulously through the group, wielding her sword until the entire family had been wiped out. Then , when she was sure that none were left alive, she turned the red horse toward Nuke and Sunny and charged. They looked at each other and then at Voice. They were terrified as she rode straight for them, sword held on high. When she was nearly upon them, Voice, the horse and the chariot vanished.
Sunny looked around. No Voice, no candy apple red Harley, no chariot, no steed. He looked at Nuke whose face was almost pure white with fear. The two of them heard the police sirens and someone said, “There they are, those two guys! Get’m! Get’m!” Without losing a second, Nuke and Sunny turned the bikes onto I-70 and took off. They exited on California and shut their bikes down as they rode into a woods near Highway 24-40. The police screamed by on I-70 evidently not seeing where the two had gone. “You go one way and I’ll go the other,” Nuke told Sunny, “I’ll meet you where Coyas Castle used to be.”
“Got it, man,” Sunny eased back onto the street and headed for Kansas City. “What did we just see, Nuke?” “I don’t know, Sunny, I don’t know, let’s get to KC man and get outta here.” Nuke edged by Sunny and punched the blue chopper into action. Sunny roared off the other direction looking back once to see if anyone was following him or Nuke. Not seeing anyone or anything for that matter, he settled into the ride to Kansas City.