“Unveiling Secrets: How Jess Phoenix’s ‘The Race’ Transforms the Meaning of Survival in an Unforgiving World”
Undeterred, he pantomimed kissing along with the pelvic thrusts. Clearly this was going in a direction I had not anticipated, so I gave one last glance back to the crest of the hill. Still no Erik or George in sight.
“Ch-ch-ch!”
Anthracite responded, and I began leading him around Dirtbike. When the man realized I had no intention of abandoning my horse to commence open-air sexy times, his face morphed into a sneer I’ve seen before, on other continents.
As I passed the bike, trapped between him and the horse, he lunged for my left arm. I shook him off, now in fight mode. My knife was in my right pocket, but my right hand was gripping Anthracite’s reins. I used my left hand to activate the emergency signal on the GPS tracker the race organizers had provided. I had duct taped it to the left shoulder strap of my backpack, and hitting the HELP button gave me a small measure of reassurance. On my scientific expeditions, there was no HELP button. After the button glowed orange, I parried another of Dirtbike’s attempts to grab me.
