The pack of them had met up on the trails and now sat astride their bikes at the top of the Widowmaker. No one remembered who had named it that and no one so far as they knew had ever died on that short, steep hill. One of the trails that led into the woods was flat and featureless until it wrapped around a monstrous elm tree and plunged down to a dry and rocky creekbed. The change in pitch was so sudden that one’s front wheel often left the ground and both bike and rider seemed to be in freefall until they arrived at the bottom, rubber side down or not.
The Tombs
