The wheels of Kayde Harper’s motorcycle slid to one side as they touched crusting slush and ice, throwing him off balance. He gripped tighter with his gloved hands and made a gentle correction to keep from hitting a snow drift. What was he doing out here? Snow blasted against his 2006 Honda Shadow, nearly sending him to the ditch. In all of his nineteen years, he’d never experienced anything like this. He’d hated the miserable hot Texas summer days, but at least spring there was tolerable. The weather knew to be warm in the spring back home.
The snow was getting thicker. His bike seemed to groan as he pushed forward. This is insane! he thought. The wind gusts pushed against him, threatening to topple him over. Snowflakes as big as golf balls blurred his vision. A sign a few miles back had alerted him to an upcoming town. If he could just stay on the road long enough to get there…
If it wasn’t for the stupid, consuming music he wouldn’t be out here. The thought seemed ridiculous at that moment as a haunting whistle of wind blasted around his helmeted head. Kayde had grown up in a house engorged with music. It was part of his family’s DNA—like having a crooked nose or thin lips. But they weren’t like other families with musical abilities. Their music carried a kind of power—supernatural-like. His dad had tried to dig into their history, to find out where this had all begun. But their genealogies mysteriously cut off at about 130 years back, leaving a million unanswered questions.
Scowling again, Kayde tried not to think about it all. But he couldn’t escape the music. It was like a consuming fire. The more he tried to resist hearing it or tried to avoid its dark influence, the more it seemed to grow, washing over and around him like a raging mudslide, suffocating him. It haunted him. Or should he say hunted him? No matter where he was, it chased after him like a predator ready to pounce and devour. It thrilled him—and terrified him. The things he’d done…
The bike’s engine sputtered, slowing the machine down from its previous .2 mph. Kayde quickly pulled over to where he thought the side of the road was—who could tell for sure? Everything was white. The motorcycle died as Kayde came to a stop. What now? He turned the key, attempting to bring the machine back to life, but it only coughed and died again. Could a motorcycle catch cold?
Rubbing the snow from the gauges, Kayde groaned. Could I be more idiotic? he wondered. The needle on the gas gauge was buried under the ‘E’. He’d run out of gas in the middle of nowhere during a freak spring blizzard!
After cursing and stomping his feet like a ten year old who’d just had his video game taken away, Kayde calmed enough to remember that sign a ways back. Glenville, Montana. A town called Glenville was somewhere close. Why did that name sound so familiar? Had it been one of the towns his dad or grandpa had talked about? He wasn’t sure.
He should start walking, but he didn’t want to leave his bike. Someone was bound to come by and see him. How couldn’t they? Kayde was the only black thing out here in the middle of a sea of white; black helmet, black coveralls, thick black coat, black gloves, black boots. He must look like a burnt Stay Puff marshmallow man. He struggled with zippers and buttons to reach his cell phone. No service. Figured. He stuffed the useless thing back in his puffy pocket.
A faint tune played in the back of Kayde’s mind. He groaned. The sounds of his dad’s music boxes, although magical and beautiful, always carried bubbly emotions or unwanted memories. This was a familiar melody from a music box his dad had made specifically for him. The last words his dad has spoken to him echoed in his memories. “I hope you find yourself out there, Son. I hope you find the answers you’re searching for. Be careful and know you’re always welcome to come back home. You know we all love you.”
Kayde swallowed the lump that threatened to form in his throat as his thoughts returned to the present. He didn’t want to be thinking about home right now. He needed to get as far away from home as possible. Besides, other than the gear he now wore, his dad hadn’t been any help. He needed to keep going.
A subtle voice whispered in his head, “Where will you run?”
Kayde put on a determined scowl. He knew exactly where he was going. He was focused on getting to the Canadian border. He wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was because he knew his grandpa had been born and raised in Canada. Maybe Kayde could feel closer to him there—feel the peace and comfort he’d felt before losing the only person who’d ever understood him; the one who’d given him the bike that had carried him all of these miles.
Or maybe just because it was so different from what he was used to; the opposite end of the States and as far away from Texas and all the suffocating music as he could get. Too bad he hadn’t been as focused on his gas gauge as he had been on his destination.
The wind picked up, sending biting bits of snow and ice at him. His body stayed warm enough under all his gear. But his feet started to feel the chill. Would he stand out there until his toes turned as black as his boots? Maybe this road trip hadn’t been such a great idea. But he had no other choice.
Kayde froze—well, not literally. He became still as music suddenly sounded clearly through the air, mixing in and through the roaring wind. He jerked his head around, trying to find the source as his heart beat a quick rhythm; nothing but swirling snow in every direction. Great. Just what I need! The music grew louder. Kayde ripped the helmet off of his head, revealing a black (of course) ski mask. The wind cut through the fabric like tiny knives. His ears were almost numb before he realized the music was coming from his brain—or something. It was coming from inside of him somewhere.
Kayde angrily shoved the helmet back on his head, hoping the motion would jar the sound out of his skull. It didn’t. He tilted his head back as he closed his eyes and sighed. The music was louder, forcing its way into his mind and heart, into his core. Kayde attempted to silence it for a moment, but then stopped.
This music was different. No music box tinkling or dark images or deep, empty caverns. A melody played—sweet, intoxicating, and haunting; but haunting in a good way. Kayde listened more closely as the melody hummed in his ears. Strange emotions erupted inside of him. Warmth seeped into his skin and a crazy weightlessness enveloped his body. Something was drawing him closer. He could almost see something in his mind’s eye; a form, a presence…