rolled back simultaneously, the collective roar shifting to a deep, guttural
deceleration. Brakes engaged, and the massive column of motorcycles began to shed
speed. Jim expertly navigated his heavy bike to a stop just a few yards shy of the
object. Behind him, the rest of the club followed suit, fanning out across the lanes.
Within moments, Interstate 15 was effectively shut down. Cars and semi-trucks
coming up behind the bikers hit their brakes, confused and agitated by the sudden
roadblock. Horns blared in the distance, but the Iron Souls paid no attention. Jim
kicked down his stand and killed his engine. The sudden silence was jarring, broken
only by the ticking of hot exhaust pipes and the restless murmurs of the riders
behind him. He stepped off his bike, his heavy boots crunching against the gravelly
shoulder, and walked toward the object. It was a burlap sack, tied tightly at the top
with a piece of frayed rope.
“What is it, boss?” asked Jax, the club’s Vice President, pulling up alongside Jim.
Jax was a lean, wiry man with a scar running down his cheek, but his eyes were
filled with the same curiosity as Jim’s. He unclipped his helmet and hung it over his
handlebars, staring down at the dirty bag.
“Looks like trash,” muttered another biker, stepping forward. “Somebody
probably lost their feed bag. Let’s just kick it to the shoulder and get moving. The
cops are gonna be here any second with traffic backed up like this.”
Jim stared at the sack. The midday sun was brutal, and the heat radiating from
the asphalt was enough to cook an egg. He raised his boot, intending to nudge the
bag to the side of the road to clear the way. But just as the tip of his steel-toed boot
brushed the coarse fabric, something impossible happened.
The bag moved.
Jim froze. He blinked behind his aviators, wondering if the heat waves were
playing tricks on his eyes. But then it happened again. A weak, desperate twitch
from inside the burlap. A collective gasp rippled through the bikers who were
standing close enough to see it. The angry honking of the delayed cars faded into the