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He moved to get up when Johnny grabbed him.
“Don’t leave me. Don’t ever leave me.”
“Hey, man, I’m not leaving. I’m just going to get your pills. I’ll be
right back.”
“I thought you were dead. Hell, I thought the whole world was
dead…except for me.”
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Kelly Conrad
“Hey,” Blondie said as he headed for the bathroom. “At least there
was no one out there that wanted to kill you. Who knows? You might
have been better off there than here.”
“No. No way. You don’t want to be where I was.”
As Blondie sat down and poured out two pills, he gave them to
Johnny, along with a glass of water. “Here, take these. They’ll make
you feel better.”
Ignoring the pills and the glass of water, Johnny said, “Blondie,
we’ve got to get out of here. I don’t know how I know, but the whole
city of New York is looking for you. They think you may be dead. I
did, too…in my dream. It was an awful feeling. I never want to feel
that way again.”
“We aren’t going anywhere until you take these pills.”
“You little weasel. Don’t you take anything serious? Panther is
out to kill you, and if the police get their hands on you, they might
just—”
“Johnny, you’re still dreaming. Don’t you remember? The police
know where I am. The newscast is all hype to fool Panther into
thinking they don’t know anything. They’re keeping this brownstone
under surveillance to keep us safe. Besides, they know the whole
story.”
Johnny frowned at him. “The whole story? How—?”
“Because I told them everything. You think they’d let me draw
pictures for them if I was a killer?”
Johnny rubbed his head. “Yeah. I guess I’m not thinkin’ very
straight.”
“Have a little faith in me. Okay?”
“Yeah, well, the fact still remains that we have to get out of here.”
“Are you sure?”
“Damned sure,” Johnny said, looking at Blondie with a
determined look in his eyes. “It’s not just me now, Blondie, I have
you to consider, so I’m tellin’ you right now… The Sheik is out of
business.”
Sheik of the Streets
47
Chapter Five
Deciding at last that he was through with the black suit, he turned
in his uniform, and dug out his leather jacket with the blaze on the
back. While he sat on his motorcycle, revving it up, he looked like the
devil on wheels, and clasped the handles tight as it jumped into
action. The minute the wheels began turning, he leaned forward,
meeting the wind head on as it whipped around him. He raced along
the city streets, narrow and wide, veered around traffic down one
street, and up the other, until he was heading out of the city, and then
shot straight ahead like a bullet leaving the safety of its gun. At last
the buildings and the cityscape were behind him. With an experienced
handling of the cycle, he roared along the wide highway swerving
dangerously, and not even slowing down as he went up hills, and
literally flew in the air on his way down. He wasn’t showing off, he
was just being Johnny Blaze, an experienced daredevil rider. And
then he slowed down as he at last roared up into a parking lot.
Now, he sat in the dimly lit audience watching the riders in the
cage. He’d been there, so he knew what it was like. He knew the fear,
the anxiety, and even the doubts in the rider’s minds. Every time they
rode they were taking their lives in their own hands, especially during
the stunts. They had to have crackerjack timing. He knew those riders
were working on pure adrenalin. It flowed through their veins like
life-giving blood, giving them the courage it took to round those
cages. Over and over. Absolute concentration. Anything could
happen, so there were rules that had to be followed. The cycle had to
be in top notch shape. Friction between moving parts could make it
catch fire. If the rider didn’t maintain a certain velocity, he could fall
48
Kelly Conrad
and kill himself. Momentum was everything. Starting out, he had to
stay low, and then as the speed built up, he rose higher and higher
until he was riding on the very edge, and the audience was gasping. It
was a thrill a minute that you couldn’t get anywhere else.
And even then—anything could go wrong.
After the show was over and the crowd was thinning out, he sat
still for a moment remembering what it was like. The crowd, the
applause, and as he looked up at the empty cage, he saw himself
rounding it, the loud sound of the cycle creating a kind of cocoon he
felt safe in.
Suddenly he could hear the barker as he stood outside the tent…
“Come one, come all! You little lady, and you sir. Ask anyone
who’s seen the show, and they’ll all tell you the same thing. It is more
than worth the money. For the small price of admission, you get
thrills, chills, and sometimes spills. It’s an experience you can’t get
anywhere else. A memory that will last a lifetime.
“Hey, boys, the show is scary enough that the girls will be willing
to cuddle up, so what are you waiting for? Mom, Dad, after this show,
the boys will want a motorcycle of their own. The show is for
everyone from eight to eighty. If you’re under eight, you probably
won’t understand it, and if you’re over eighty, your heart probably
can’t stand it. For the rest of you, you can’t imagine what goes on
inside, so don’t even try. If you already have a ticket, you don’t need
to get in line. You can climb the stairway to the observation gallery
and get the best spot to watch the stunt riders perform. The rest of you
just form a line here to my left, give the young lady your money, and
that’s all there is to it.”
Yes, he wanted to come back. Maybe all he’d been waiting for
was an excuse.
Finally, he got up and headed toward the caravan of the carnival’s
owner, Pepperico Rubin. Peppe was a transgender man who did an act
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