Chapter 8 - The Highway of Kings
At 6:00 AM on Sunday morning, Interstate 55 North looked like a living ribbon of chrome and steel.
The weather was pristine, a crisp, brilliant autumn morning where the sun reflected off the changing maple leaves and the polished paint of over three thousand motorcycles. Riders had come from Iowa, from Indiana, from as far away as Texas, answering the digital call sent out by the Iron Skulls.
At the center of the massive convoy was a specialized, sterile medical RV provided for free by a local Springfield dealership. Inside, Ava lay on a soft bed near the window, hooked up to her portable monitoring equipment, while Troy sat beside her, wearing outfit number eighty-eight: a giant, plush pink flamingo suit complete with a yellow beak that poked out over his nose.
"Look at the flags, Daddy," Ava whispered, her face pressed against the glass.
Outside the window, the highway overpasses were packed with thousands of ordinary citizens. They stood on the concrete structures, waving pink sheets, throwing glitter into the air as the convoy passed, and hanging massive banners from the railings: RIDE HARD, PRINCESS AVA!
Every twenty miles, a new chapter of state troopers took over the escort, their flashing blue and red lights clearing the road ahead, their sirens giving a soft, rhythmic wail of respect as the flamingo and the princess moved toward their battlefield.
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The roaring hum of three thousand engines vibrating through the asphalt wasn't a sound of intimidation; it was a lullaby of absolute, collective protection. It was the sound of a world that had decided, for one beautiful day, that a single child’s life was worth blocking the gears of commerce.
When the convoy finally reached the city limits of Chicago at dusk, the skyscrapers of the Loop were lit up in a brilliant, spectacular shade of pink—a corporate tribute coordinated by the Chicago Fire Department and the city's unified biker clubs. The mountain had brought his princess to the castle, and the army was standing guard at the gates.
