death is Belligerent

Four gleaming motorcycles crossed and recrossed the shallow water of the three branches, the noise ripping the silence to shreds.  Water and pebbles flew everywhere and deep tracks were gouged into the sandy beach.

Nudging the nervous horse forward, he carefully picked their way down the small hill toward the riders, his intention being to ask them to move on.

The four cyclists stopped when they saw him approaching.  They turned off their machines and raised their hands in response to his greeting.

He hoped that meant they were friendly.  Stopping about eight feet away from the young men, he addressed them.

“You boys know you are on the Overly estate?”

“Are we now?” said the apparent spokesman seated on a large black Harley.  “We didn’t mean no harm.  We was just having a little fun on our bikes, you know?”

Waving his hand, ‘Holmes said, “You are making a mess here.”

The man looked around him.  Sheepishly he rubbed his chin.  “Sorry about that.  We’ll move on then.”

The four started their bikes as though to leave.

The mare jerked backward, and became skittish at the sudden roars, nearly unseating her rider.  Holmes had to concentrate on soothing her and keeping his seat.

Suddenly, from out of sight among the trees, roared a fifth bike, then more bikes, until he was surrounded.

The black Harley sped into the circle and struck the mare’s right flank.  She went down.  Holmes rolled so that he would not be trapped under her.  He landed in the foot-deep water.  Ladyblue scrambled to her feet and limped away.  Holmes quickly regained his feet.  The nine bikes were slowly circling in a menacing manner.  He stood facing the man on the black machine in the western-most branch of the Blue River.

He touched his left cheek, which smarted where he had scraped it in his fall, but he kept his eyes on the man in front of him.

“I have a message for you, Mr. Johnson.”

“Indeed!  You have me at a disadvantage, Mr.--?”

Several bikers laughed wickedly as the man said, “Sparks.”

“--Mr. Sparks,” finished ‘Holmes.

The man swung his ponytail and revved his engine.  “Not, Mr. Sparks, just Sparks.”

The hair on the back of his neck bristled as Holmes realized that the bikes were closer then they had been.  He could literally feel the heat from the one that had positioned itself right behind him.

The black Harley sped forward and Holmes leaped aside right into the side of the other machine.  The rider shoved him in the small of the back as the black monster spun around and struck him a glancing blow on the lower left side.

Holmes went down on his knees but scrambled up.  He was watching the the big man on the sleek missile when another Harley from behind him struck him on the same side.  His left leg went out from under him and he fell to his knees again.  A dismounted biker swung something at him, hitting him in the ribs, right side.  Another blow struck him on the back and a third on the neck.  His head exploded with pain.  He fell face down in the water.  His right side was on fire.