Girlymann steadied an eye on the pack of black metal beasts. He knew they meant trouble and were quickly gaining on them. Campy and Vic picked up speed. They could see in the distance the pinnacle of the climb where the road went between two colliding mountain tops.
"Let's go for it." Campy yelled.
And they did. Each man put as much muscle to the pedal that they could. Their bikes flew up the climb. It surprised those in the chase, for at first, they kept to the speed that would have had them near the cyclist. But now, the cars had to speed up as well, trying to reach them before the cyclist reached the summit.
The road became steep and then very steep. Each turn was like climbing a spiral staircase, the curve went almost straight up against the mountain's side making the boys take the curves wide. It added almost twice the time, though it took less energy. It gave an edge to the motorcars that gained distance every second that slipped by.
Campy knew what to do. But could the Belgian make it? He could, thought Girlymann. And as he geared for battle. He forced his upper body to relax, holding lightly to the bars and concentrated on getting as much oxygen in his lungs as he could. He would need that for the final push and when Vic saw what Campy was doing, immediately did the same. He instinctively, tucked in behind Campy and began to relax, taking deep breaths as they used only their legs to power the bikes.
It was cool from the altitude and helped the boys from overheating, Once Campy flushed his blood with oxygen he raised from the saddle and shifted gears. The bike responded by increasing the speed and as soon as he hit a curve, Campy settled in the seat and shifted again, to ease the steep climb.
Vic followed suit tucked in behind Campy. It helped. The cars too had to slow in the curves before gaining speed and though it made their pursuit harder, Campy could hear the strain on the gears of the automobiles become louder, like lions in pursuit, as he and Vic sweated and strained to put out more strength to save their necks.
The top was near, veiled with a mist that clung to the pine trees, it cooled the air and brought a stillness to the area. The only noise that could be heard were the breaths of men and roar of machines trying to catch them.
Girlymann could feel his legs tire but willed himself to stay his ground, his breathing grew heavy and he could hear the Belgian behind him. He didn't know how long Vic could hang on. He didn't know how to help him either, other than hope the draft he gave the domestic was enough.
A shot rang out, followed by machine gun fire. The bullets ricochet off the sides of the mountain when they struck the hard granite around Campy and Vic. A little more, just a little further and they would be surrounded by the high clouds of the mountain's top. Just a little more, Campy thought when he felt the sting and saw blood drip from his arm.
To be continued......
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