Free Jackal by Jeff Stone Page A

tired. It seemed the flight from California, my ride with Hú Dié, and the stress over what I was about to do had taken its toll. I lay down and stretched out. The long, heavy vehicle absorbed every trace of road vibrations, making it feel as though I was back home on my living room couch. Two minutes later, I was sound asleep.
    “Jake! Wake up!”
    I opened my eyes to find that we’d arrived at the state park. I’d slept like a rock the entire drive. I sat up and sawthat the window between Michael and me was down. The limo was pulling up to the park’s entrance gate.
    “I hope you brought some cash, Jake,” Michael said.
    “Yeah,” I groaned, and I fished my wallet out of my pocket.
    Michael stopped beside an entry gate and lowered his window.
    “Five dollars, please,” a park ranger said.
    I handed Michael a five-dollar bill, and he gave it to the ranger in exchange for a receipt to tape to the front windshield.
    “What’s the best way to get to Pine Loop?” Michael asked.
    The ranger handed him a map. “It’s in here. Very easy. Just stay on this road.”
    “Thanks,” Michael said. He pulled away from the gate and unfolded the map.
    I rubbed my eyes.
    “Looks easy enough,” Michael said.
    “Yeah,” I replied. “It’s not too far from this entrance.”
    By the time I put on my helmet, sunglasses, and gloves in the back of the limo, Michael was already pulling into the Pine Loop parking lot. I didn’t see any other cars. Michael parked, and we both got out. He took my mountain bike off of the rack as I slipped my hydration backpack over my shoulders.
    “Here you go,” Michael said, handing my bike to me. “I don’t see any sign of your honey.”
    “What?” I asked.
    “Your girlfriend.”
    “Oh.” I glanced at the time on my phone. “It’s only two forty-five. I’m early.”
    “Well, take your time. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be waiting inside the limo for you. If I’m asleep in the driver’s seat, just knock on the window. I’ll have it open at least partway because it’s kind of hot out here. Don’t get heatstroke or anything.”
    “I won’t,” I said, pointing to the hydration hose clipped near my right shoulder.
    Michael nodded and climbed into the driver’s seat, and I pedaled across the parking lot to Pine Loop’s start/end point.
    It was indeed a hot day, but the moment I hit the trail, which was shaded by tall leafy brush, the temperature dropped at least five degrees. It dropped another five degrees once the brushy stretch ended and the trail opened up to huge, widely spaced oak trees.
    I inhaled deeply, savoring the rich aromas of the forest. I felt my stress begin to melt away. My oversized mountain bike was designed for this type of trail, and it handled this section as smoothly as the limo had handled the open road.
    The view was spectacular, with the trail running up and then down several deep ravines. I’d learned in science class that the glaciers of the last ice age had stopped advancing near Indianapolis, which is where I lived. The land was flat as a pancake there. Here, though, it was very hilly, like Kentucky or Tennessee.
    I breezed along the edge of a particularly deep ravine and slowed down. The trail was under a yellow cautionary status, after all, and this stretch contained a few puddlesof water. Riding through the puddles would leave ruts on the trail that would then harden and make it miserable for future riders. Worse than that, puddles were slippery. I didn’t want to find myself slipping down that nasty drop.
    I cleared the stretch along the ravine and wove around a few switchbacks, then over some small hills.
    Then I stopped.
    Before me was the steep, silty hill that Hú Dié and I had talked about. To one side was a thick cluster of ferns.
    I climbed off my bike and pushed it into the ferns. I didn’t think anyone would be riding along this trail at this time of day on a weekday, but I wanted to play it safe. I found a big pine tree among