Working as an orderly, Wex saw the waves of patients – more dead than alive, sadly – wash into the hospital until they had to start turning them away.

He was no dummy – had nothing to lose, except . . .

a classic Victory –

none of the gizmos, nothing automated; pure analog, baby. Perfect for a getaway like this.

He mounted his motorcycle and sped off toward the wilderness; he’d lay low for a few days, let it blow over.

This flash fiction in 75 words was crafted for the M3 blog’s Flash in the Pan (motorcycle).