Nogs was riding point, with Big Karl beside and a little behind. The rain and wind blew past them, pushing along the road as if it wanted them to reach the town.
The others were riding in loose pairs behind them, going only as fast as the conditions would allow. Taking no risks beyond being out in a storm. Needing to get to where the Lord of the Flies wanted them to be.
A fly crawled across Nogs’s face, its inky body flattened into the surface of his flesh. The biker’s eyes were vacant but he wore a smile, as they all wore smiles, identical to that of the little man who was safe at home in his bedroom.