The Great Race – Part 3 – The Bear

“Malus turn around! Turn around!” Emerson hollered with an edginess that betrayed a hint of panic as he leapt from his Go-Devil (product of Ying Research Inc. – order yours today) and dove under the fallen tree that lay across the trail. Malus needed only a second to size up the rapidly approaching ursine automata before quickly maneuvering his Go-Devil into an about face. Emerson hopped onto the passenger seat located immediately behind the driver and most vociferously encouraged a hasty retreat.
 
With a single swipe of its metal paw (all the more formidable for its dagger-like claws) the ferocious mechanical beast obliterated the fallen tree, at once clearing the obstructed path. Remarkably, Emerson’s Go-Devil was spared any damage as the steamworks behemoth lumbered after the two fleeing Gangplankers. For all its effort, the mechanized horror belched great plumes of a rank black smoke as if having gorged itself on a feast of coal and sulfur.

“Squire!” Emerson called out, staring back over his shoulder. “It is gaining on us. Open this thing up!”

Because of the finesse required in maneuvering through the tortuous wooded trail, the steamworks bear continued to gain ground until the two fleeing men emerged from the densely thicketed wood onto the more open terrain of the mountain slope. Freed from the winding forest trail Malus was able to throttle up to full power.

Gradually the two New Babbagers began to increase the distance between themselves and the pursuing monstrosity. The beast appeared to show no signs of abandoning the chase, and while it was no longer gaining ground it had found some measure of reserve allowing it to maintain a steady pace about fifty yards behind the two men racing up the steepening mountain trail.

“Quick!” Emerson shouted into Malus’s ear. “Turn off the trail and cut across country!” The two men leaned to the right as Malus drove the propellered vehicle off the trail to the left, riding perpendicular to the slope. The mechanical bear cut across country at an angle meant to intercept the two men. While it appeared as though the bear was only moments from heading them off, Emerson’s tactic of leaving the trail may have had some merit as the depth of the powder off the trail seemed to be slowing the bear somewhat.

“Do we have a gun?” Emerson asked.

“A flare gun in the side bag!” Malus called back. “Try not to shoot me.”

Emerson reached into the saddle bag, locating the flare gun which he grabbed by the barrel and pulled from the bag. With the flare gun firmly secured in his right hand, Emerson was just about to twist to the left in order to aim downhill when the gun accidentally discharged. The bright red fireball flew off about a hundred yards above them, impacting directly into the side of the mountain.

“Oops!” Emerson said, realizing it was only a single shot gun. He was about to ask if they had another when a sudden rumbling could be discerned above the hum of the engine and whir of the propeller. The avalanche he had triggered with his errant shot spread across the mountainside with remarkable speed.

“Downslope, Squire, downslope!” Emerson’s shout coinciding with Malus changing course. The mechanical bear appeared frozen, as if it had trouble processing the fact that it’s prey was now headed back in its general direction. In moments the Go-Devil raced past the confused automata which suddenly seemed to comprehend it’s peril. Turning it began to flee down the side of the mountain ahead of the avalanche. But the creature was not as adept at running down the mountain as it had been at running up. It stumbled, then tumble and before long was falling out of control leaving broken bits of metal and torn wire in it’s wake.

As the ground began to level off once more the weight of the avalanche lost force. “We did it Squire!” Both the bear and the avalanche appear to have come to a halt.

Malus slowed and turned back towards the left, making his way towards the trail. He pulled to a stop near a large piece of wreckage from the steamworks bear that had come to rest in a heap of smoldering scrap and melting snow. Emerson jumped off the backseat of the Go-Devil and pulled at a loose piece of metal, furrowing his brow as he studied it.

“Look here.” said Emerson. ‘Made in Bump.’ he read then looked up at Squire Malus with a puzzled look on his face. “Why on earth would someone in Bump be building giant mechanical attack bears?”

Malus just shrugged. Emerson tossed the debris back on the ground.

“All this excitement has stimulated my appetite.” said Emerson. “Give me a lift back to my Go-Devil and let’s break for lunch. Junie packed some sandwiches and a thermos of hot chocolate in the side bag of my Go-Devil… and might I just say, she makes the best hot chocolate ever.”

Malus nodded. “Hop on.” the Squire said, then turned before firing it up the engine. “I couldn’t help but notice a tree blocking the trail preventing your escape from that…” he nodded towards the rubble, “thing.”

“Yeah.” said Emerson nonchalantly as he climbed into the rear passenger seat. “I noticed it hanging over the trail when I sped by the first time.” he paused, eyes shifting downhill. “The force of my Go-Devil racing past must have dislodged it.”

Malus narrowed his eyes then fired up the engine and rode them back to the wooded trail where Emerson had left his racer.

***

It was about an an hour later when Emerson Lighthouse and Martin Malus were just finishing with the clean up from their midday break in preparation for the second half of their race.

“Dammit – there are no buttons on the front of this racing suit” Emerson said, his voice registering a mild degree of discomfort.

“Perhaps you shouldn’t shop in the ladies’s section.” Malus snickered.

“I’ll have you know, this is not a lady’s suit. It is what’s known as unisex.” said Emerson with a degree of indignation.

“Is that so?” smirked the Squire as he watched Emerson struggle and contort to reach the fasteners located on the back.

“Squire, do you mind unhooking me?” Emerson said finally turning around.

Malus sighed then obliged. 

“Thank you. I shan’t be a moment.” said Emerson, peeling the suit down below the waist and turning to the nearest tree. “Then we can get started aga…” The revving of the Squire’s Go-Devil cut him off. With a wave and a smirk the Squire called out, ‘Bet you’re regretting that third cup of hot chocolate now, Sir Sir!” then took off down the trail.

“That bastard!” Emerson cursed as he finished his business then struggled to refasten his racing suit while simultaneously running to his Go-Devil.

To be continued