August and Sam looked at the busted glass windows in the front of the motorcycle shop. There were no cycles in the showroom.
"Nothing here, Sam," August complained. "Look," he said, "we need to find something fast. I don't want you to leave Ted and Claire back at that store with no transportation for very long."
"Yeah, yeah, August. I get it. Let's look in the back first," said Sam. "Turn your flashlight on, big guy, and don't let any rats near me." Sam pretended to shudder. "I hate rats." He turned his flashlight on and they moved through the broken doors into the back room, a large repair shop with aluminum garage doors.
"Hey, if we can get these bay doors open we might see better," Sam said.
A few minutes later, after the screeching of twisted metal and rusted gears, bright sunlight blazed into the interior of the repair bay. Sam ran from one workbench to another, stuffing tools into the bag slung over his shoulder.
"We need to go, Sam. There's nothing here we can use."
"There's a lot of tools if you know what you're doing, big guy."
August headed for the open doors, stopping suddenly and staring. Without saying anything, he turned and walked to a workbench, grabbed a rusty crowbar and walked out the door.
"Hey!" Sam shouted. Clapping a hand over his mouth, he stared at the shadows, looking for motion. Zs weren't the only things to be afraid of in this new world. People were people, even now. Reaching into the waistband in the small of his back, Sam produced a Glock and stepped into the interior shadows, stealthily making his way toward the huge open door.
He watched August walk up to a large trailer with locked double doors, where he slipped the crowbar into a padlock on the back. With a quick twist, the lock shattered.
Sam looked around and stepped into the sunshine, replacing his weapon. "What the hell, August. You scared the wits out of me. I didn't know what you were doing…"
The creak of metal against metal cut Sam off and the back doors of the trailer swung open. Inside was a motorcycle, a Honda Shadow.
Sam leaped into the back of the trailer and whistled softly as his hands moved over the engine. "I don't think there's anything wrong with it, August. Let me check it over, but this is pretty good."
August stepped into the trailer and pushed the large motorcycle out into the bright sunshine. Sam grinned at him. "This Shadow should work, August. You need a large motorcycle like this; you're a big guy," he said.
"Can you get it running?" August had to admit the cycle was a nice machine, still looking in good condition, in spite of years of storage.
Sam knelt beside the bike. "The tires need some air. I'll need some gas for it. If you can bring the gas cans, I can have you going in half an hour." Sam had pliers and a screwdriver in his hands and was already working on the engine, not even looking at August.
The work took more than an hour. Finding a manual air pump was the hardest part, but there was a working one in a locker in the repair bay. The gas seemed okay. After cleaning the plugs, Sam crossed his fingers and pressed the starter. The Shadow roared to life, sputtering. Black smoke belched from the tailpipe.
Sam frowned. "Well, it isn't purring, but it's running. I guess you're good to go." August threw a leg over the seat and sat down, the shock absorbers bouncing. Sam laughed. "Perfect fit! Don't forget to stop every hundred miles or so or you'll wear yourself out." He slapped his hand against August's broad back then stepped away, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "Oh, and say hi to Hemanth and Holden for me."
"Will do, Sam. Good job on the bike," August said.
Sam waved, a crooked grin on his face as August disappeared north on the cycle. "You should have a nice trip, August," he said to himself. Sam looked longingly across the street at the restaurant with the collapsed blue roof. "I sure would have liked some pancakes…" He climbed in the truck and drove deeper into the heart of Pueblo.