Marie and Pilgrim had stopped. Since bridges narrowed the traffic from one side of the city to the other, they had to come this way and so did Wolfgang, and since the sound of the Touren was unique in Doors, Pilgrim certainly would have heard it and recognized it. Wolfgang raced toward them, holding nothing back and hoping for their aid.
Johnny made good on the promise he'd held in his eyes: the burst came, like a shock wave, a gust so strong and sudden it could have broken his bones if it had been more focused. Wolfgang knew this. He had seen it in action before. But Johnny's intention this time was to stop him, and the gust did so elegantly, with a practiced and perfected swoop against the motorcycle as easily as a child throws a ball.
Friction lost, the motorcycle weaved into and against the wind, and Wolfgang did his best to keep it upright, but failed. It spun into a grassy median where Wolfgang could no longer hang on; it flipped several times alone and crashed in loud metallic thunder against a lamppost.
"I guess now we know which side Johnny is on," Marie said, after helping Wolfgang to his feet and asking him if he was all right. He wobbled helplessly and leaned heavily on one leg.
"Damn is he strong," Wolfgang said. "Where did he get all that power?"
"I hate to guess," she said. "Can you walk?"
"I think so," he said, hoping that his leg was only badly bruised where the motorcycle had skidded upon it and not, as he at first thought, broken. He lifted up the leg of his jeans and studied the proud flesh above his boot. It was swollen, yes, the color fast changing from red to purple, but nothing about the leg's angle was amiss.
"It doesn't look broken," she told him.
"It doesn't look good, either. I just hope it holds together because I don't think that's all he has planned." Wolfgang followed Marie's eyes to where, high above the rooftops, they could see the haloed shape of the zephyr in the distance as he bent light and air to his will. Electricity shocked the air around him. He grew steadily in their sight, speeding toward them, returning for another attack. Wolfgang nodded to her in understanding and imagined it would be easy to run on his injured leg when he thought of what might happen if he stopped. They scrambled onto the horse as bicycles and garbage cans skidded past, flipping end over end before slamming into buildings ahead of them. "We have to get underground," Marie said, desperation and exertion threading her voice. "He'll kill us out here."
"Where's the subway?" Wolfgang asked. Disoriented from the attack, he glanced fervently around. Where had they ended up? "Next block," he told them.
"I see it," Pilgrim said, lunging forward. "Heading for cover." The street felt like it was the longest Wolfgang had ever been on. It felt like it was growing longer as they rode on it, like some kind of sick treadmill stretching out further before them with every stride Pilgrim took.
"He's got to go back up to the sky sometime to keep his powers," Marie told them. "If we could get him underground, we could take him out."
"Hey, nothing personal, aight?" Johnny's voice showered down on him from above along with a hail of ice and rain from his building storm. "We both gotta do what we gotta do." Through the sleet, Wolfgang could see the friend he barely recognized turning steadily darker with tempestuous might, his eyes on heavenly fire. Wolfgang thought it might be the last thing he would ever see.
"Never thought of you as a turncoat, Johnny," Wolfgang shouted back.
"Likewise," Johnny said just loud enough for Wolfgang to hear. Maybe that meant he was regretting this, but Wolfgang wasn't sure. Maybe he was just concentrating and didn't know what he was saying. Wolfgang dared to look up just as a funnel of air caught him and lifted him several stories above the street. When Wolfgang looked down for Marie, she was no longer there, and Wolfgang didn't blame her for using her best defense, stealth, against this
Johnny made good on the promise he'd held in his eyes: the burst came, like a shock wave, a gust so strong and sudden it could have broken his bones if it had been more focused. Wolfgang knew this. He had seen it in action before. But Johnny's intention this time was to stop him, and the gust did so elegantly, with a practiced and perfected swoop against the motorcycle as easily as a child throws a ball.
Friction lost, the motorcycle weaved into and against the wind, and Wolfgang did his best to keep it upright, but failed. It spun into a grassy median where Wolfgang could no longer hang on; it flipped several times alone and crashed in loud metallic thunder against a lamppost.
"I guess now we know which side Johnny is on," Marie said, after helping Wolfgang to his feet and asking him if he was all right. He wobbled helplessly and leaned heavily on one leg.
"Damn is he strong," Wolfgang said. "Where did he get all that power?"
"I hate to guess," she said. "Can you walk?"
"I think so," he said, hoping that his leg was only badly bruised where the motorcycle had skidded upon it and not, as he at first thought, broken. He lifted up the leg of his jeans and studied the proud flesh above his boot. It was swollen, yes, the color fast changing from red to purple, but nothing about the leg's angle was amiss.
"It doesn't look broken," she told him.
"It doesn't look good, either. I just hope it holds together because I don't think that's all he has planned." Wolfgang followed Marie's eyes to where, high above the rooftops, they could see the haloed shape of the zephyr in the distance as he bent light and air to his will. Electricity shocked the air around him. He grew steadily in their sight, speeding toward them, returning for another attack. Wolfgang nodded to her in understanding and imagined it would be easy to run on his injured leg when he thought of what might happen if he stopped. They scrambled onto the horse as bicycles and garbage cans skidded past, flipping end over end before slamming into buildings ahead of them. "We have to get underground," Marie said, desperation and exertion threading her voice. "He'll kill us out here."
"Where's the subway?" Wolfgang asked. Disoriented from the attack, he glanced fervently around. Where had they ended up? "Next block," he told them.
"I see it," Pilgrim said, lunging forward. "Heading for cover." The street felt like it was the longest Wolfgang had ever been on. It felt like it was growing longer as they rode on it, like some kind of sick treadmill stretching out further before them with every stride Pilgrim took.
"He's got to go back up to the sky sometime to keep his powers," Marie told them. "If we could get him underground, we could take him out."
"Hey, nothing personal, aight?" Johnny's voice showered down on him from above along with a hail of ice and rain from his building storm. "We both gotta do what we gotta do." Through the sleet, Wolfgang could see the friend he barely recognized turning steadily darker with tempestuous might, his eyes on heavenly fire. Wolfgang thought it might be the last thing he would ever see.
"Never thought of you as a turncoat, Johnny," Wolfgang shouted back.
"Likewise," Johnny said just loud enough for Wolfgang to hear. Maybe that meant he was regretting this, but Wolfgang wasn't sure. Maybe he was just concentrating and didn't know what he was saying. Wolfgang dared to look up just as a funnel of air caught him and lifted him several stories above the street. When Wolfgang looked down for Marie, she was no longer there, and Wolfgang didn't blame her for using her best defense, stealth, against this
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