2 The Snake

High above the promontory, the roar of a dirt bike could be heard above the thundering of the ocean waves.

The black-clad figure on the bike looked young, no more than 17 or 18.

His face was completely hidden by his helmet and visor and his upper body was enclosed by a leather jacket that was zipped to his neck.

He leaned into the wind, wrung the throttle and gunned it up the hillside. The bike roared with throaty joy, effortlessly launching itself up the hill.

Its front wheel kicked up as it hit an uneven spot on the dirt path and slammed back down.

The engine never even gasped.

Dust and smoke bloomed from his rear tire, back-lighting him as he charged up the hill at full throttle.

He was going fast.

Way too fast.

The top of the promontory was quickly approaching. There was no way he could stop in time if the top was his destination.

The rider pressed forward, showing no sign up letting up.

He sped up.

Faster!

Faster!

He needed more speed.

The dirt bike gave a loud throaty roar as he gave it everything he had.

There was the ridge line.

Five

Four

Three

Two

and

…

In a split second, he broke free from the bounds of the Earth.

Nothing was on the other side of the promontory but the vast grey blue ocean far below.

All sounds canceled out inside his head except for the sound of his own breathing and his thudding heart beat.

Propelled by inertia, the bike raced upward into the bright blue sky as the dirt path disappeared at the top of the promontory.

Clods of dirt and grass fell from the bike's spinning wheels.

Bike and rider hung for a moment midair; inertia fighting against gravity.

Gravity won.

The bike dropped back down.

At the last possible moment, the rider pulled up on the handles and swerved to one side.

His body twisted in midair as he shifted his weight to the front of the bike.

He quickly yanked the handle of the bike, aiming for solid ground.

BAAAMMM!!!

The dirt bike hit the ground running.

The engine choked for a second, then roared back to life as both its wheels made solid contact with the ground.

Bike and rider roared back down the slope at a speed that was nose-bleed fast.

He aimed the bike towards a small rounded hill. This time, he did not bother to time the jump. It was just a small hill after all.

The bike flew up into the sky.

It landed back down with a WHUMP onto the other side of the hill and roared away.

As the sound of the dirt bike faded into the distance, the roar of the ocean resumed.

The bright golden sun blazed down upon the golden hills.

The rider took off, away from the hill and down a small two-lane road.

Ten minutes out, he reached a small clearing where the redwood trees reached out and met the sandy dunes.

He stopped the bike and kicked the kickstand down. Then he pulled off his helmet and pulled the elastic band from his long jet black hair, letting it fly with the wind gusts.

As he stared into the distance, his startling amber eyes looked out from a classically beautiful face.

It could have belonged on a very pretty girl, except that his jawline was too strong and he was beginning to fill out in areas where girls could not.

He reached up and yanked down the zippered pull of his black leather jacket. Reaching to the back of his neck, he began to scratch.

The itching was not always there, but at certain times of the month, it got intense.

Like RIGHT NOW!!!

He pulled back his hand and looked at his palm. A handful of iridescent scales glittered in the afternoon sunlight.

He sighed and took off his leather jacket revealing a black AC/DC tee-shirt underneath.

Reaching back, he pulled the shirt over his head and exposed his bare back to the sun.

It always felt better when the sun's warmth hit his bronzed skin. It eased the itchiness at the very least.

His scratching had exposed the loosened skin on his back. He kept rubbing his neck until he could get a good edge under his fingernails.

And then he started peeling.

Using both his hands, he worked the loose skin until it fell away from his body in one flat sheet.

The slough was silvery white with a scaly pattern that matched exactly the scaled pattern that was on his back. It never carried the blue, green and orange colors of the scaled pattern that was emerging on his body though. It was always a silvery white scaled pattern.

With each sloughing, the pattern had gotten larger. Pretty soon, it would take over his entire back.

He shuddered as he thought of the time when it would begin invading the rest of his body.

Before then, he needed to gather up the courage to do what he needed to do.

Each time the itching started, he would tell himself that it was time.

He would get on his bike and take the long drive to Laguna Cliff. The drive was almost an hour long, but it allowed him to build up his resolve to carry out his plan.

He would talk himself up, build his courage and his determination. This time, he would follow through.

He would launch himself over the cliff.

Go out with a BANG!

He would end it all so that he would not end up covered in scales and looking like the monster he was turning into.

And each time, he would chicken out at the last minute and turn his bike around.

He let out a hiss and hit his head with his fist.

He was such a coward, he hated himself!

He sighed and rolled the slough into a long tube. Then he tucked it away into the pocket of his jacket.

He did not want a part of his body, albeit a DEAD part of his body, to be blowing around in the wind out here.

It made him shudder to think of an animal finding it and gnawing on what was once, a part of his flesh.

With another sigh of resignation, he put his shirt and jacket back on and started up his bike. It was time to go home.

Suddenly, from out of nowhere, something came flying at him.

He instinctively ducked, barely in time to keep his head from being bashed in.

It hit the sandy dune with a resounding THWAPPP and slid another three feet.

He turned in the direction of the flying object.

It looked like a turtle carapace.

But what in heck was a turtle doing on this side of the continent? And how was it traveling so fast???

He jumped off his bike and ran to the carapace to take a closer look.

He was about to reach out and touch the carapace when he heard a voice shouting at him.

"Touch me and you lose a finger, punk!"