Finally, I seemed to come to my senses.
For what seemed like an eternity my world had consisted of nothing but a blinding white and red flash, screams of both engine and voice and periodic, rapid fire lightening tearing open my body. But as I opened my eyes, the cloudy grey sky seemed to come into focus, and I was aware of the bike rolling forward without acceleration or steering.
Michalea, the girl from before was clinging on for dear life off the front of the bike, her legs scrambling frantically, searching for any purchase that might prevent her from slipping forward and under the heavy wheels of the bike.
The involuntary tightening of muscles around my torso as my body came back from its near comatose state refreshed the agony in my chest as I reached forward, grabbing the handlebar with one hand and the shoulder of Michalea's shirt with the other.
Stretching my fingers, I just managed to reach up and around the break lever. Another wave of agony struck as the bike's wheels locked into the dirt, skidding around and tossing me off to the side while throwing Michalea off the front, fortunately well clear of the bike.
I was stunned, if only for a moment. The now, all too familiar, sickening, feel of adrenaline began to pulse through me. I coughed while I was lying there in the dirt, blackish colored blood splattering up over the lower half of my face and chest.
I vainly tried to wipe it away, but only succeeded in spreading it further. I rolled over onto my stomach and pushed myself up onto my hands and knees. I tried once to try and pull myself the rest of the way, but couldn't manage it. Then, I felt a pair of strong, broad hands around my arms pulling me up. Back on my feet I was face to face with John.
He was covered in blood, blood from the undead- I knew, but I couldn't help feel like it were Augustins. I flinched.
"Come on! We need to get to the bike."
I looked back around, and saw Michalea was way ahead of us. She'd already righted the bike and was tearing it around back toward us. I was moved by her courage.
As soon as she was up beside us, with Johns help, I jumped up on the seat, directly behind her, while John climbed on behind me. He put his back on mine, and firmly planted his feet in the baggage racks. The horde was closing in on us again, it seemed a few of them had trouble with the slippery decent of the hill. We tore off back towards the camp, the cloudy sky beginning to weep down on us. The air had an ominous, yet cleansing feel.
We finally chanced back onto the road leading back to the farm, and I felt a momentary relief, the hard part was over. But it was shattered as we rounded the final corner. The small farm house was roaring alight, bright orange flames defying the young rain. Gunshots were firing, and struggling masses could be seen silhouetted against the fire.
I could have cried.