The Hunter and the Prey 02

Chapter 2 - The Hunt

The next evening, the Iron Dogs, as the bikers from the diner called themselves, met at Jake's former cattle ranch, which hadn't been worked in decades. It lay twenty miles north of Van Horn on the edge of the Chihuahuan Desert. Jake had already closed the motorcycle shop he ran out there. Now he waited for his friends in front of the old main house, which was built in the Mexican pueblo style. It was plastered with adobe and had the narrow, elongated window slits and wooden shutters typical of the region, built to keep the blazing sun out. One after another, the bikers emerged from clouds of dust. Jake, the club's president, greeted his men with handshakes. Billy was the last to arrive. He gave Jake a high five, but he looked downright sullen doing it.

Jake grinned: "Billy, you old warhorse, still sore that the little lady put you on your back instead of you putting her there?"

Billy scowled: "Seriously, Jake? You stop Henry and Bull, and then you go and hit on the little lady yourself. How does that make me look? We've got to teach that broad what it means to mess with an Iron Dog!"

"Come on in. There's pulled pork burgers, coleslaw, and cold Bud!" Jake was trying to be diplomatic. Billy grumbled something unintelligible into his beard and followed Jake into the main house.

The bikers settled in at an endlessly long table in the big dining room. The heavy table dominated the room. The ceiling was held up by massive beams that decades of stain and smoke had turned pitch black. A few oil paintings of the previous owners, dating from the nineteenth century, hung on the whitewashed walls. A sprawling wagon-wheel chandelier hung in the middle over the table. Thin rugs with traditional Navajo patterns lay on the floorboards. At one end of the room was a big open fireplace, though no fire was lit. Longhorn horns on the walls completed the décor. Time seemed to stand still here, and you half expected spurs to jingle and Clint Eastwood to walk through the door.

The club's two prospects brought out the food and drinks. The bikers ate and drank. The mood relaxed, and Billy's spirits lifted too. But Billy still wasn't satisfied. He turned to Jake: "Prez, about last night again. We look like a bunch of chumps now. Nobody's going to take the Iron Dogs seriously if we let this slide. I say we need to teach that lawyer a lesson!"

There was murmured agreement from some of the other bikers. Jake's eyes narrowed: "Billy, I think it's real damn shitty when my enforcer gets laid out in public. But you screwed this up. Honestly, how stupid is it to hit on a lawyer like that in the middle of a public diner? Those lines of yours might have worked on a crackhead streetwalker, let alone a high-society girl like that."

"How was I supposed to know she's a lawyer?" Billy shot back.

"Tell me, Billy, are you really this dumb or are you just playing dumb? It doesn't matter whether she's a lawyer or a management consultant or whatever. You saw she's not from our world, and it should've been clear she wasn't going to fall into your arms with joy when you came on to her with beer on your breath and started talking about fucking!" Jake was getting angry at this thick-headedness.

"Jake, don't play the woman whisperer now. You're hot for her too, and you're no saint!" another biker chimed in.

Jake's face hardened: "Guys, seriously, how dumb are you? What happens if we rough her up now? A lawyer? From Midland? After everybody in the diner saw Billy hit on her and get knocked on his ass? We'd have the FBI on our tails. That's conspiracy or something, and those guys don't joke around. We could kiss our smuggling to Mexico goodbye. And right now it's really paying off because of the tariffs!"

The bikers fell into a sheepish silence. Jake smirked. The pecking order was restored. Now he could afford to be more conciliatory. "Yeah, she was a hot piece, no doubt. But you go about that in a whole different way. Charlotte Roush is her name. She gave me her card. Here!" Jake held up Charlotte's business card like a trophy.

The bikers stared in amazement. "That's how it's done. Be friendly. Be helpful. Be interesting. I lured her in with a ride on a Harley." Jake grinned broadly. "And it doesn't hurt to look good, of course. Billy, I guess you're out of luck there!"

The bikers laughed. All except Billy, of course. Hank, the oldest of them, easily past sixty, was unimpressed and asked Jake: "So when's the ride?"

"Not yet. I have to get her gear together first. But Sandra should be about her size. I'll borrow a helmet, boots, and a riding suit from her!"

"Good thinking," said another. "And then you get a flat tire near a motel, and there's only one room left with a double bed!"

The room roared.

Jake grinned: "That sounds almost too easy. We'll see!"

Hank spoke up again: "She's not stupid, you know. Watch out she doesn't kick you in the balls!"

The bikers laughed like horses.

Jake smirked: "Yeah, she kicks like a mule! She's got to trust me and want me, too. But let's talk business now. Who's running the trip to Ciudad Juárez tomorrow night? Gonzalez is practically wringing his hands waiting on those Harley parts!"

The rest of the evening went to discussing smuggling routes into Mexico for spare parts.

A few days later, the phone rang at Charlotte's law office. Eunice answered as usual: "Roush Law Office. This is Eunice Delgado. How can I help you?"

Jake was on the other end: "Hi, my name is Jake. I'd like to speak to Charlotte."

"Jake who? I don't know you."

"Just Jake. Tell her I'm calling about the motorcycle ride. She'll know who I am!"

The penny dropped for Eunice: "Oh, you're that biker. I've heard about you. One moment." Eunice buzzed Charlotte: "Charly, the biker's on the line!"

Charlotte understood: "The one from the diner? The nice one?"

"A Jake, but he won't give a last name! He's calling about a motorcycle ride."

Charlotte was puzzled: "Okay, is he trying to avoid leaving a paper trail and that's why he's not giving a last name? Put him through!" She answered in her professional voice: "Charlotte Roush, hello!" "

Hey, it's me, Jake. How's it going?"

"Good, thanks, and you?"

"Oh, great. Bad people always do well, don't they? I've got everything together! Well, with the riding suit, I had to guess!"

Now Charlotte was confused. "What do you mean?"

"The gear for the motorcycle ride. You don't remember?" There was a hint of worry in Jake's voice that Charlotte hadn't meant it and might back out.

Charlotte laughed: "Oh, I get it. Yes, of course I remember. So this is starting to take shape."

"Shape is a good word. You're a 32C up top, right?" Jake's voice sounded like a challenge. "I'm asking because of the riding suit. We wouldn't want anything of the precious cargo getting squashed!"

Charlotte was unfazed. 'Does he think he can rattle me like that? Sonny, that kind of cheek costs you points on the artistic score.' She didn't hesitate to answer: "Yes, 32C. Now I know where you were staring the whole time. You seem to know your way around. Lingerie salesman, or have you had a gross of girlfriends?"

For a moment Jake didn't know what to say. "Neither!" he finally said. He laughed: "Of course a man picks up some experience along the way, but a gross would be a bit of an exaggeration. Let's get from your breasts back to the riding suit. It should fit. But it'd be pretty dumb if we meet up for the ride and it turns out to be too tight or too loose. Why don't you just come to Van Horn and try it on? We'll have a great barbecue at my ranch."

'Is that really the best you've got?' thought Charlotte. "Jake, oh, that won't be necessary. I wouldn't want to put you out. It's very simple. Just mail it to me, and I'll let you know whether it fits. And if it doesn't, I'll ship it back to you at my own expense."

Jake was silent. Then he said: "Yeah... but the boots. Those have to fit too..."

Charlotte cut him off: "Size seven and a half, simple as that. They run a little big anyway. That'll work. Either way, I won't have to drive to Van Horn to try them on. That was the point, wasn't it?"

"All good, then by mail it is!" Jake pretended not to be disappointed.

"Wonderful," Charlotte trilled with an ironic undertone. "Call me again when you've got everything together! Bye!"

She hung up. 'Hunter-gatherer, huh? I spoiled that one for you, mister,' she thought with a satisfied grin.

In the shop in Van Horn, Hank looked at Jake, who set his phone down with a disgruntled look. "She get cold feet?" he asked. "No, not that. But she's not easy to impress. She won't come to the ranch to try it on. I'm supposed to mail it to her."

Hank laughed out loud: "Smart girl. She's got you figured out. Lawyer, after all. You'll have to get up earlier than that, Jake. Try harder!"

Jake grinned back: "I grow with my challenges!"

Hank stayed skeptical: "Don't bite off more than you can chew. She's different from your usual chicks!"

Jake made a face and went back to the Harley he was supposed to be fixing.

In Midland, Eunice was bursting with curiosity. She couldn't stand it any longer. So she finally went into Charlotte's small but elegant office. Charlotte sat behind her sleek USM Haller desk of black laminate and chrome.

She looked at Eunice with a knowing, mischievous smile. "You want to know what he wanted?"

"Of course, Charly, I'm dying of curiosity!" Eunice was brutally honest, with herself and with others. Some people called that rude; Charlotte saw a kindred spirit in Eunice. She gave a brief account of the little battle of words. Eunice laughed: "He doesn't know you yet. Let's see what he comes up with next. Will he show up with flowers?"

Charlotte laughed out loud: "A biker... flowers? Never in a million years. Will he take me out to dinner? He probably doesn't even own a suit. And he wouldn't dare take me to fast food. Would he?"

"Maybe to a Dallas Cowboys match? But he doesn't know anything about you, not even whether you like football at all." Eunice was having fun dreaming up more comical complications. "Maybe to a rodeo?"

"Please, no," Charlotte groaned. "Not that. My father dragged me there as a kid. Macho men as far as the eye can see, in tight jeans bulging with their equipment, locked in an eternal struggle over who has the biggest... Stetson...

" Eunice burst out laughing: "Charlotte, you are absolutely impossible again... but funny!" Eunice trundled back to the motions for enforcement she had to draft, and Charlotte buried herself in a brief on a child support case again.

The bikers were curious, too, about how the story of Jake and Charlotte would develop. A few days later, over beers at the club, meaning Jake's old ranch, a lively discussion broke out about how best to get a shot at Charlotte. Billy had a more archaic approach: "Jake, you've got to show her who's boss. If it comes to it, you've got to slap her around!"

Even the other bikers considered that only barely an option: "Billy, hit a lawyer from Midland? You might as well go beg for a jail cell at the next police station," said a stocky, otherwise taciturn biker everyone just called "Hog."

Billy wasn't giving up yet: "Not in front of witnesses. When he's alone with her. Then it's his word against hers!"

Hog rolled his eyes: "Billy, take a look in the mirror. Who do you think a judge is going to believe? You or the lawyer?"

Jake laughed. "Okay, this is about me, not Billy with his beard and teeth you can read his breakfast off of, but Hog's right. That's out of the question. Besides, she'd resign on the spot. And you know where to, Billy!"

Everyone laughed. Hog piped up: "How about something truly Texan? Take her to a rodeo!"

Jake made a face: "You think she's into rodeo? You saw her. Designer clothes, drives a Mercedes SLK, lawyer, lives in Midland, the big city. I can't see it."

One of the prospects spoke up too: "Well, I always take my girls to the movies and then to Burger King!"

The pack roared. Hank laughed: "Yeah, Mike... holding hands with the lawyer at the movies and then fries, Coke, and a burger!"

Jake just made a face. The scolded Mike turned red and went quiet. Hank looked at Jake and grinned: "You've got to come at her from a completely different angle. Something she's not expecting, and not typical biker. Take her to a fashion show in Dallas or Houston."

The bikers laughed. One said: "I'd pay to see that. Jake in leather and colors, and her in a designer gown and shoes that probably cost more than a Harley exhaust."

Jake grinned: "Nah, I'd feel like an idiot. They probably wouldn't even let me in. I don't own a suit, either. And it'd be too boring for me anyway!" Jake brooded for a moment. The bikers fell silent. "But otherwise you're right, Hank. I've got to go about this a whole different way. And I think I've already got an idea!"

Jake grinned, and despite his friends' repeated questions, he wouldn't spill his idea. Jake kept planning and didn't tell his friends what he had in mind. To Hank he only hinted that it had something to do with nature and education. Jake searched the internet but wouldn't say what he was planning. It was almost as if he were afraid some of his idea might leak to Charlotte. After a few days he had finalized his plans. Finally Jake called Midland.

The phone rang at Eunice's desk. It was Jake. He was a known quantity now, and Eunice put him through.

"Hello, Charlotte, how are you?" Charlotte grinned: "Oh, I can complain. Everything's great!" Jake asked: "Huh? What do you mean?" Charlotte's grin widened: "Old lawyer joke. I can complain, as in file a complaint, so I've got revenue. Business is booming!"

Jake laughed: "Oh, now I get it. Good for you. Maybe I've got something good for you, too!"

"I'm all ears!" Charlotte was eager to hear what was coming. "Well, our motorcycle ride is still on the books. I've got a suggestion. We do a day trip to Carlsbad Caverns in New Mexico. If you leave in the morning, you can get there comfortably, tour the caves, grab a bite, and be home again by evening. Supposed to be really interesting."

Charlotte was surprised. She was quiet for a moment.

"Is that not your thing?" Jake asked, worried.

"No... on the contrary. I'm very pleasantly surprised. Jake, that's a great idea. I haven't been there in ages. Jake, please don't take this the wrong way, but after the 32C stunt, I didn't think you had it in you. But that's what happens when you let prejudice guide you. I think that's a fantastic suggestion. I'm in."

Jake was audibly delighted: "Awesome! Maybe next Saturday? And I'll send you the riding gear right away!"

Charlotte agreed: "Next Saturday works." "All right, my lady. So, I was of course hoping you'd say yes, and I did some planning. If we leave Midland at 8:00 a. m., then even with breaks and gas stops we can take the King's Palace ranger tour and have something to eat beforehand. If we want, we can also see the Big Room of the cave on our own, without a guide. And then we'd be back in Midland, conservatively estimated, by 7:30 p. m. What do you think?"

"Jake, I can tell the strategist has planned this beautifully. As we lawyers say, that sounds clear, exhaustive, and persuasive. I'm in. Then pick me up around 8:00 a. m. Write down my address: 721 West Dengar Avenue, Midland!"

"The cavalry will be there at 8:00 sharp, booted and spurred!" Jake joked.

"I'm looking forward to it!"Charlotte said simply.

Charlotte had barely hung up and entered the date in her calendar when there was a knock at the door. Charlotte had to smile. 'Curiosity, thy first name is Eunice and thy last name is Delgado,' she thought. "Come in, Eunice," she called.

Of course it was Eunice, who asked eagerly: "Well?"

"Signs and wonders still happen," Charlotte said with a satisfied smile. "That Jake invited me on a day trip by bike to Carlsbad Caverns."

Eunice said nothing for a moment. Then she said: "That was unexpected. I would've bet on Dallas Cowboys versus Washington Commanders."

"Goes to show you can be wrong," said Charlotte, who looked quite pleased. "I said yes. It's been a really long time since I was there. It's exciting and interesting. We probably won't make it in time to watch the bats fly out at dusk. We'll have to start back earlier. But whatever. Maybe he's not a typical biker after all!"

Two days later, Charlotte received a big package. It contained a leather riding suit and motorcycle boots. Jake was serious about this. Charlotte tried the things on in her bedroom. The boots were a little loose, but thicker socks would make them work. She remembered that from way back. The suit wasn't skintight. Above all, there was "room up top." Charlotte smiled. Had he overestimated the size of her bust? Was the wish the father of the thought? Or had he borrowed the suit from an acquaintance who was better equipped, and here Charlotte corrected herself, "more amply" equipped? She was proud that, at forty-two, nothing on her sagged. 'Quality over quantity,' she thought. Either way, it would work. She called Jake to tell him. She had copied his number from the law firm's phone system.

"Yeah?" Jake's rich baritone asked.

"Charlotte here! Hi, Jake, everything okay with you?"

"Yeah, can't complain," Jake answered, apparently having remembered the lawyer joke. "Or sue."

Charlotte laughed: "Glad you like my jokes. And I like the package, too. Neither is custom-made, but I can work with them. Even up top." She smiled.

"Yeah, figured. A little too loose shouldn't be so bad. Too tight would be more of a problem. The suit's borrowed from a distant acquaintance, and so are the boots."

"Okay, that's what I figured. So, Jake, see you Saturday!" She said goodbye.

"Yeah, I'm looking forward to the ride... and to you," Jake added. Then the two ended the short call.

The following Saturday, Charlotte stood ready, freshly showered, in the leather suit and motorcycle boots. She had packed the contents of her purse, plus a few apples, a banana, and a bottle of sparkling water, into a small backpack. A biker chick with a handbag would be a style violation. Besides, on a motorcycle, a purse would be damn uncomfortable, and she didn't want to stuff her expensive little bag into a saddlebag that might be oil-stained. For authenticity she had also tied a big bandana around her neck. At five past eight she heard the deep, dull rumble of a heavy Harley engine. She involuntarily remembered her youth and the ex-boyfriend for whom that sound was the pinnacle of all feelings. 'He would envy me to no end,' she thought, 'and on a totally customized chopper, too.' The buzzer rang. "Jake, is that you?" she asked through the intercom.

"Yep, your chauffeur, as ordered," he joked. Charlotte answered curtly: "Coming!" She smiled at Jake and shook his hand. "Good morning, Jake!"

"Hey," said Jake, "leather suits you!"

Charlotte smiled: "I know. I like leather a lot, too. But let's ride and not chat about fashion."

Jake folded down the passenger footpegs. He climbed on and started the engine. "Come on, hop on, Charlotte!" he said. Charlotte swung a leg over the bike and sat down. She tapped Jake on the shoulder and held on to his hips. Jake understood and rolled onto the street. He rolled through the streets of Midland and finally onto Texas State Highway 158 toward Gardendale, where they would switch to US Highway 385. Jake was pleasantly surprised. Charlotte hadn't been talking nonsense. She must have ridden before, and as a passenger, too. Without hesitation she leaned with him into the curves, and when he reached the highway and gave it gas, she moved closer to him to hold on. He felt her hands and her body, even if muffled by two leather suits. Charlotte felt much the same on the back seat. She felt broad shoulders and a strong back. Jake rode calmly and safely, as was to be expected.

'A biker, not a racer,' thought Charlotte. She felt more comfortable on his bike with every minute. The flat, barren landscape was marked by the oil industry. Around Midland, pumpjacks kept appearing, rising out of the brown-gray steppe overgrown with prairie grass and mesquite, bobbing up and down like slow, oversized woodpeckers. Tank farms completed the picture of a prairie landscape scarred by the oil business. The farther north they rode, the more the oil industry's structures thinned out, replaced by scattered ranches and farm buildings. What defined the scene was the huge arched sky and the boundless view to the horizon, toward which the road ran dead straight as a dark gray line. Jake had chosen the route through Seminole rather than the way through the town of Eunice. That gave them more of a classic desert experience and kept them away from the oil fields around Eunice. It was a bit longer, but more scenic if you liked that steppe feeling of "endless expanse." Time passed and the sun climbed higher. The heat rose, too. The horizon began to shimmer, as in the Sahara. In Seminole, Jake switched to US Highway 62 and continued west. The landscape got even flatter and even drier. There were hardly any trees or shade, just now and then cacti and low, thorny shrubs. This was the Chihuahuan Desert.

After a while, Charlotte began to feel the machine's vibrations distinctly in her lower body. That was unfamiliar. Her body had never reacted to a motorcycle ride like this. It started with a slight tingling between her legs, which then grew stronger mile after mile. It was extremely uncomfortable. She wasn't aroused, at least not in her head. It was pleasant to feel Jake's strong back, but she wasn't mentally stimulated. It was a strange, purely physical reaction to the constant vibration. The shock waves grew stronger.

'Oh my God,' thought Charlotte, 'I'm about to come on a motorcycle. Goddamn it, what do I do?' She shifted position, slid a little higher, farther from the vibrations, so to speak. That helped for only a moment. The feeling soon grew more intense again. She tapped Jake on the shoulder and shouted in his ear: "Jake, I need to pee. Stop at that diner up ahead!"

Jake nodded in understanding. He turned off the highway and pulled up at the diner. Charlotte smiled gratefully, got off, and went into the diner. The feeling between her legs eased right away. She went in and used the restroom. There she stuffed toilet paper into the suit between her legs, hoping to dampen the vibrations. Then they rode on. It didn't take long, though, before the tingling between her legs started again. The toilet paper had barely any cushioning effect. She tensed up more and more. That only made the shock waves between her legs stronger. She couldn't think of anything else as she stood on the brink of an unwanted orgasm on the back of Jake's bike. She was ashamed and searched desperately for a way out. Against her will, she focused more and more on the unwanted feeling. That fueled it even more. Another stop wouldn't help. She slid forward, then back. Everything helped at most for a brief moment. She understood that she couldn't stop it. Finally she surrendered to her fate. And then it happened. An orgasm seized her. She gasped and leaned forward against Jake. Another wave shot through her body. In her desperation she opened her mouth, and a stifled moan could be heard. Jake didn't catch that, though. What he did feel was that Charlotte suddenly pressed against him, doubled over, and bit into his leather jacket.

"You okay?" he called back. Charlotte didn't answer. Quickly deciding, he pulled over at the side of the deserted highway. Jake turned around and looked straight into Charlotte's flushed, sweaty face. She was breathing shallowly, a kind of breathing he knew from women during sex.

'That couldn't be, could it? Or could it, from the vibrations?' Jake wondered. "Charlotte, was that just a..."

Charlotte didn't let him finish. "Don't make me answer!" she said quietly. "Please, keep it to yourself. That's never happened to me before."

Jake couldn't help smiling. Charlotte saw it and her eyes narrowed. He had seen that look in the diner, right before Billy felt her knee.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Counselor. I stopped because I had a cramp in my butt. Okay?"

"Thank you," Charlotte said softly.

"Only," Jake said, "I hope I don't get cramps now for the whole ride...!"

Charlotte sighed fatalistically: "I hope so too!"

Jake started up again. Charlotte listened to her body in panic. But nothing was happening between her legs. Had the climax relaxed her so much that the vibrations were now ineffective? She didn't know. After a quarter of an hour's ride she relaxed visibly and could enjoy the ride on the Harley again. Only Jake turned his head back once more and asked: "All good, no more trouble?"

She tapped his shoulder in agreement. Jake nodded in understanding and gave it gas. Slowly the landscape changed again as they approached Carlsbad, New Mexico. Light-colored peaks now rose on the horizon. Those were the first foothills of the Guadalupe Mountains, where Carlsbad and the caves were located. Slowly, very slowly, the mountain range grew larger the longer they rode. At first, hills rose as flat swells that grew rockier the closer they got to Carlsbad. Carlsbad itself was a typical town of the American Southwest. Low buildings hunkered down under the sun along wide streets. Beyond Carlsbad, the landscape turned dramatic. The highway wound through canyons between high limestone plateaus and cliffs. Jake ignored a sign for Carlsbad Caverns National Park and rode past White's City. Charlotte saw the sign and didn't know what that meant. Did he know the area and have some special route? She wasn't afraid, though. She already trusted Jake that far. A short while later, this would clear up. Jake finally turned right off the highway and followed a simple road that wound through an increasingly green landscape. At a small lake ringed with tall cottonwood trees, he stopped.

He took off his helmet and turned around: "Rattlesnake Springs, practically an oasis in the desert out here, right?"

Charlotte took off her helmet, too: "This is really idyllic. A real oasis... even with birdsong. Nice idea, Jake!" J

ake smiled contentedly. At a heavy wooden table by the lake, he unpacked his backpack. He had ham sandwiches and chicken ones, a thermos of coffee, plastic cups, plastic spoons and forks, napkins, and a Tupperware container that revealed tomato salad when opened. It immediately gave off a pleasantly spicy aroma. Charlotte got hungry and felt embarrassed. Not because of her climax on the bike this time, but because she had only thought of a few apples, bananas, and some sparkling water.

"Jake, you planned this perfectly. I'm impressed!" she said honestly. "And the tomato salad, homemade?"

"Yeah, I'm single and have to feed myself," he laughed. "It's my mother's recipe!"

"It smells delicious. All I brought is a few apples, bananas, and some sparkling water." She added her provisions to the pile.

Jake grinned: "Complements it perfectly. Fruit for dessert and sparkling water to wash it down. Chicken or ham?" he asked.

"Chicken," said Charlotte, biting into the sandwich Jake handed her. "Mmm, this is good! Have you done this trip often, since you know your way around so well?"

Jake smiled: "No, not at all. But there's the internet, and I just thought about what a lawyer might like."

Charlotte ate her sandwich and drank some of the coffee Jake had poured her. She fell silent and glanced at Jake, who had turned away and was gazing at the lake. She liked Jake more and more. His domestic skills didn't strike her as funny for a biker at all. Quite the opposite: along with the perfect planning of the day trip, they had wiped away the impression from the earlier phone calls. Most of all, of course, there was the fact that he hadn't said a single word about her problem on the bike. Charlotte felt comfortable and happy. She was glad she had said yes. The amount of food had been well chosen, too. It was light and didn't make her sluggish. Charlotte felt full, but not sleepy or heavy, and felt well prepared for the upcoming tour of the caves.

"I think we should head to the cave visitor center now. Our tour, which I booked, starts soon. Okay?"

"Gladly, Jake," Charlotte replied. They quickly cleaned up and climbed onto the chopper. Then they headed back toward White's City, this time through that cluster of restaurants and souvenir shops, and on to the national park. The road got curvy, just right for enthusiastic motorcyclists. At the visitor center, Jake parked and picked up the reserved tickets. They locked their backpacks in lockers. Finally they stood at the big elevator that would take them down several hundred feet. They stepped in, the doors closed with a soft hum, and then they went down. Charlotte took Jake's hand.