Becoming Zen

The troopers met in the middle where the Sgt. passed his collected licenses to the junior trooper who continued to the rear cruiser to run wants and warrants on them. The sergeant stopped at the pack head when he saw Lizzie, black leather top and tight pants, lounging on Monk's bike like some lazy cat.

"Well hello Miss Elisabeth, I was sorry to hear Dan passed; he was a fine man. I went to the funeral home to pay my respects but I missed you." She stood up, removing her sunglasses and offering her hand, her face turning sad, the thrill of the ride evaporating with reality.

"Thank you Officer Harris."

"Bob, you've known me too long to be so formal. It's good to see you."

"Thank you Bob," she dimpled "are you just about ready to turn us loose or is there something wrong?" He looked at Liam and Michael at the head of the pack, nodded, slapped Preacher riding beside her on the back with a greeting and looked back to her, replying with serious eyes.

"Just about, unless Dervis finds something hinkey, get the God damned gator off the back of that bike and undercover before Fish and Game sees it. I've never had any problem with you Zen Riders but some Swamp Jumpers passed this way about an hour ago and I don't trust them as far as I can reach. You may see them down the road, just so you know. There is a radar trap just over the state line so watch your speed."

Lizzie nodded, "Will do, and how is Mrs. Harris? The only thing I miss about school are my teacher's and she was a favorite."

"I'll tell her you asked; she still says you are the smartest thing she's ever seen in her entire career. Y'all ride safe now," he said with an absent wave and began walking back toward his cruiser, looking into the faces of those he passed on the way to his vehicle.

"I think it is time to call a ...Prospect!" Bob yelled at the top of his voice. The pounding of boot leather came toward him. John stopped in front of Preacher. "You ran all the way up here and didn't bring a beer?" John started to turn. "Wait, send one of the others back with...," he looked at the three pack leaders watching him and smiled, "four beers, then get that 'gator in the kitchen truck and start thinking how you are going to skin and debone him." John started back down the line of brightly painted bikes, chrome gleaming in the sun. "Wait." Preacher looked at Lizzie, Liam, and Michael; "beer break, ten minutes then we roll, god willing. Pass it on. Take off."

"How long are you going to fuck with him before you give him his patch?" Lizzie asked as they laughed. Liam said with sincerity.

"He's got my vote, that was impressive today, the hang around didn't do too bad either; there's some scratches under all that mud."

By this time the beer had arrived and patch holders began gathering about the front riders. They took an impromptu straw poll but did not agree that it was time to put fast John's membership to a vote, putting the decision off until they elected a new Prez at the club meeting tonight, but already the thought was circling in their heads.

Lizzie walked up the highway, staring into the distant shimmer of the heat far down the road. How could she pull Monks club together without having a vote herself on whether to give a prospect a patch. Liam came up beside her, staring into the distance, trying to see what lay ahead.

"What is it," he asked, watching the heated air twisting in the distance that could hide anything.

"It seems like the club is falling apart; they can't agree on whether a prospect is ready for membership. Michael is the VP but Bob is calling all the shots where he should be." Liam shrugged. The troopers pulled away, crossed the 4 lane further down the road, returning to their observation point.

Riders started toward bikes; the first fired, joined by others into a sound of impending motion. Lizzie brought the knuckle up on the compression stroke, starting it in one practiced thrust. Kickstand up, first engaged, she pulled away with Preacher and Michael who formed up in twos before her.

Her eye sought the mirror, moving left to the passing lane as she accelerated up through the gears, twisting the throttle, chasing Liam to find that place where she remembered being happiest; growling acceleration rose to a roar, a pause, then 4th gear screamed, rapidly shorting the distance between them.

Liam let her match his speed; saw the wet glint behind her sunglasses. Grinning like an idiot he blipped his throttle then made a motion down the road with his head. They blasted toward where the road vanished on the horizon with matching smiles.

Nine miles later they backed off full throttles, whispering into the welcome station and parking in the shade of trees; the bikes cooled and they watered, laughed, forgot about all else and just enjoyed themselves. The pack caught up and passed; they slipped in behind and rode drag to the campground.

Fort Zen:

The club was gathered, members in a circle, prospects filling one end, and old ladies off in the background as the meeting began. Around all was the glitter of chrome in the fire light of the bikes encircling them. Lizzie was unsure where to stand. Liam rose, looked to Michael, who nodded and waited for him speak.

"Monk asked me to say and do some things before we voted for a new Prez." He held up a cutoff; "this is a new patch. Little Bitch, get up here." The crackle of the fire and footsteps were the only sound until Lizzie looked up unspeaking into his serene face. "Put this on, sis."

She stood before him, patch outward facing the club. Tallman unfolded from the ground, then Preacher and Michael until the entire ring was standing with the murmur of voices running around its circumference. Mad Dog turned her toward the center, raised one hand from her shoulders gesturing for quiet and continued.

"Monk said Little Bitch has been prospecting for this club for her entire life, and if you don't support his decision to patch her up, you can go fuck yourself if you don't like it or, you can fight her for the patch." Liam leaned forward; speaking in Lizzie's shocked face as the buzz of voices raised in conversation, "the real fun hasn't started yet."

"And, he nominates her for Prez; she has my vote." A rumble of incoming bikes curtailed all other shocked discussion. Lizzie turned to Liam.

"Send the prospects through the woods to the road behind them, and then get the brothers to turn their headlights outward and wait for mine." Mad Dog looked at her strangely then hurried away. She stepped near her bike, turning the front forks toward the headlights entering their campground. Other shadows moved beside bikes as similar adjustments were made.

The in riders stopped short as Lizzie switched on her light followed by the rest, illuminating the new arrivals as they shut down, put bikes on stands. She strode out where all could see her, calling where all could hear.

"This is a private Zen Rider's party; we're saying good bye to our old Prez and electing a new one. Leave now." She turned away, showing her patch. A voice came from behind her, arrogant and insulting.

'Zen Riders have a bitch patch holder?' The derision in his laughter was like a whip scourging the patch holders beyond the lights. "You pussies should pack up and leave now. Swamp Jumpers always party here. What kind of Prez you got letting a woman wear a patch?"

"We haven't elected a new Prez yet, but I have one vote. I'm going to get the rest when I pull your patch, asshole." She began walking toward his startled face, felt the brothers moving behind her. Liam was right; the real fun was just starting.

The Bar:

Lizzy sat up, puzzled at first, then recognized the sound as the juke box in the bar turned down very low, then, a little pissed at someone fucking around so early after a very late night. A frown brought pain from facial bruising; a glance in a Monks bedroom mirror showed a hell of a black eye in the dim morning light and a smile born that could only be described as ecstatic. The welcome ache from a finely used cunny made the smile broaden.

She fell back on the bed, letting fulfillment puddle through the body and mind, sang a mantra to her breath, became still as her Wa moved toward that quiet place within. Liam snored; she giggled, rolled him over; the snores continued. Lizzy rose for the day, all thoughts of meditation gone.

Pulling on a pair of jeans and a ratty oversized Harley shirt from a dresser, she dragged the blanket from Liam's snoring, face down sprawled body just to look at the naked ass that shared the bed before joining the living. Stepping out and down the hall to her room she found a jackstraw of comatose bodies that precluded any hope of finding clean clothes. The smile turned wry and a little smug at being fresh fucked among such hedonistic company. At least the bathroom was empty, although she did not look past the drawn shower curtain to confirm it.

Her legs protested a bit going down stairs where the mystery of the juke was solved when she found Fast John, still celebrating his patch, leaning on it, a mug in one scared hand, quarters in the other. His smile was self-satisfied on his battered face.

The two of them had led the assault, from opposite directions, on the disrespectful intruders at the campground; when they met in the middle, stomping, kicking, and punching, not a defender was left standing. The muddy losers were dragged to the far side of the fire where their cutoffs burned. A little further away their bikes were pushed into the still water joining the brick battlements of the fort to lie in a heap of partially submerged machinery.

The meeting was reconvened. All votes carried swiftly. Lizzie stood in the middle of her jubilant brothers and proposed they leave the Swamp Jumpers to their fucked-up weekend and return to the bar. The idea of a night run back struck them as a great idea. Now, in the early light of Saturday morning the only two awake appraised each other.

"Morning bro. You should see your face."

"Morning my Prez. You should see yours."

"Is that coffee?" John hooked a thumb toward the bar kitchen and punched in another selection.

"Fresh pot half an hour ago, I sent the prospects to catch some sleep until the pharmacy opened, bandages, aspirin, and ointment."

She slipped behind the bar, filled Monks titty mug and added a pack of raw sugar, leaned on the counter, sipped, eyes gone faint with a score of image thoughts. John walked up, chewing a loose flap of skin hanging from a knuckle.

"Hungry?" she quipped, realizing that she also was ravenous after a sex filled night that was all she'd ever imagined with Liam and more.

"I could eat. Are you buying?" His eyes laughed as the thought of food played in her mind.

"Absolutely, I'll be right back. Start my bike." She ran upstairs for her cut off, stopping to cover Liam's fetal curled body against the chill of the air, then back down, turning the volume on the juke up all the way with a malicious grin.

They rode, unhurriedly, close abreast through the quiet of early morning, disturbed only by the sound of their machines echoing off the buildings they passed, the two newest members of the Zen Riders, at peace and at large.