Beat by Jared Garrett Read Free Book Online Page A

that they were about to watch me die right before their eyes in a few minutes. I turned right and started pedaling. “The Bug is no more! I, Nik Granjer, shall prove it!” Pushing hard, I followed the path’s twists up a small hill. The kinetic motor kicked on to help me get up the hill. The chip must’ve fallen back into the slot. I felt the electric motor ease the amount of pressure I had to use to move the pedals and scowled inwardly. I needed to get my heart rate up, not have help going up hills. I forced myself not to look back at the group of Pushers; I was sure some of them thought I was going to die. 
    The hill sloped downward into a popular recreation area that had a bunch of trees all around. I pedaled quickly, pushing my heart rate quickly past 100. No warning beeps. The glue was working so far. And if it didn’t stop the knockout—well, it would. It had to.
    Not about to die. I repeated that phrase in my head a few times, pedaling steadily, the wind cooling my face.
    I had to change this. Either way, I wasn’t going to live a lifeless life. One of infinite boredom.
    I slowed to turn around. I took a deep breath and adjusted the wad of glue. Releasing my breath, I counted down from five. On “one,” I shot off, gulping air and trying to swallow it past the knot in my chest. “The Bug’s gone,” I whispered, the wind sweeping my words behind me. 
    I hit the bottom of the hill, pumping the pedals hard and gripping the handlebars tightly, and sped up the slope. My feet moved faster as the stupid kinetic motor kicked on again. The Bug’s gone. I was at 120, easy. No beeping. I hit the hill’s crest, pulled up on the handlebars of the cycle and got some air, and then dropped fast. “The Bug’s gone!” I shouted, exhilaration making my voice louder than I’d expected.
    I pedaled harder, my legs beginning to burn. My hands felt completely stuck to the grips of the handlebars. I had to be at 130 or more. “It’s gone. It’s gone,” I sang under my breath between gasps. This had to be the fastest I’d ever gone—I guessed I was going 40 kilometers per hour, at least.
    Swerving around a curve, I blasted past the gathered Pushers right when I was certain I’d hit 140. Might as well make sure of it. My breath caught painfully in my throat and chest.
    Digging deeper, I pushed my cycle faster, up another hill, this one bigger. I had to have broken 140. Had to. The charge in the kinetic motor must have been at max after all this pedaling. This time I appreciated the help getting up the hill. I hit the top of the rise, shot down, and then tapped the cycle into a near stop as I pulled it hard to the left. The back wheel screeched and fishtailed around. I was already pedaling again, back up the hill. My thighs ached, wanting to quit. The motor made things a little easier. I pushed harder. My heart pounded hard, like the beat of the hammer machines in the Enjineering Dome. It felt like my heart wanted to rip open my chest. Coming down the hill, I kept pedaling even though it hurt, wanting to maintain my pulse. I felt like I must have been hitting 150 or more. My stomach was tight; I felt almost sick. Was the Bug about to attack me? Everyone knew 140 was just the minimum safe threshold and that each person had their own vulnerable range.
    What was my range?
    I pushed the question away. No way. I knew I was right.
    I brought the cycle to a shuddering halt with a bunch of fast taps on the brake sensor, sliding to a stop right in front of the others. Gasping for breath, I shot my hands into the air. “Bug’s gone!” My entire body shook from exertion. I was right! Elation filled me with energy; I wanted to shout loud enough to wake up the entire city.
    Melisa and Bren stepped forward, each of them grabbing a wrist. Melisa had grabbed my left wrist, so she checked to make sure the glue wad was still under my Papa. Then both of them concentrated quietly for a few seconds. “Be still!” Melisa said, glancing