Harry Berry

Harry, Mac, Jake and Celie lined up where the dirt road entered the woods through the park. The first bike riders started out, each trying to take the lead. Mac gave Harry a thumbs-up sign as they began the ride. The time, by Harry's watch, was 7:46 AM.

"This is not bad at all," Harry said, riding beside Mac.

"Yeah, it's a piece of cake," Mac bantered back. Jake and Celie rode beside each other, behind them. The guy with the toddler rode behind Jake and Celie. They picked up speed going down the first hill and puffed up the next one. Mac's mountain bike had better traction than Harry's cross-country bike. The dirt was firm where park vehicles regularly drove, but in places, the road became rutted and narrow. Rain had made the hard, packed clay, slippery.

Only a high, 4-wheel-drive vehicle could pass through some places. They had covered almost four of the five miles through the woods when they went flying down a steep hill. Harry's front tire hit a clay-hardened, wet patch and slipped to the side, raking against a tree branch that was sticking out over the road. A twig caught between the chain and sprocket, causing the chain to derail.

"Oh, Man! Look at that?" Harry hollered to Mac, as he coasted to the bottom of the hill. Mac stopped and waited beside him. The guy with the toddler eased around them and continued up the next hill. Jake and Celie had moved out of sight some time ago.

"Don't wait for me, Mac, I'll catch up."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, you can't lose me. Go ahead." Reluctantly, Mac rode away. Harry worked the twig out of the mechanism and threaded the chain back on the sprocket. Running up the hill with the bike, he hopped back on. Now, he had to push it, to catch up. The guy with the kid and Mac were nowhere in sight. Harry began to panic. He had stopped for only a couple of minutes, but had dropped far behind. Two bikers who started late, passed Harry on the next hill and sailed down the other side. Harry was determined to catch up with the bikers and threw caution to the wind. He came up over the top of the hill and rode as fast as he could pedal, downhill.

At the bottom of the hill, Harry saw the switchback turn too late. Bikes had thrown wet sand out in a wide circle and he leaned into the turn, away from the outside edge. The front tire lost traction and slid out sideways.

"No-o-o-o!" Harry screamed as he flew over the hillside, down into a steep ravine below. Large boulders lined the side of the hill on the way down. He seemed suspended above himself as he watched, in disbelief, as the front wheel smashed against the rock. Harry flew over the front of the bike, bouncing like a rag doll down another twenty-five feet from one boulder to the next.

He was no longer looking at himself from above, but felt the splitting pain in his head, neck and shoulder just before he landed on the ground and rolled against the base of a tree trunk. He was lying in a depression, filled with dead leaves at the bottom of a dry ravine. He lay unconscious, bleeding, still as death, hidden under the low limbs of a shade tree.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Found

The late afternoon sun filtered through the low, tree limbs above Harry. His face was hot when he tried to open his swollen eyes. Pain shot through his head and right shoulder, down his arm to his fingers. He tried to move his shoulder, lying at an odd angle against the tree trunk, but his aching body would not obey his will.

The nylon strap on his helmet was tight around his chin and his head was twisted in an uncomfortable position. His right hand was limp and useless. He managed to unhook the plastic fastener with his left hand and pull the helmet off his head. He withdrew his left hand, covered in blood. Through dazed eyes, he saw a pool of blood dripping from the helmet that was lying beside him.

He placed his good hand on the back of his head where he felt the worst pain. His hair was matted with something stiff and dry, in places. He rubbed his head and cringed with pain as he touched the open, gaping wound in his scalp. Harry withdrew his hand, smeared with fresh, warm blood. He rolled over on his side and tried to vomit as a wave of nausea and blackness engulfed him.