The VERY WIP opening to my novel

Have fun!! I'll gladly tell all of the lore to anyone who asks in the comments!!

It's not much, but there's a LOT tp go into the novel-

A paper’s first page  fluttered in the New York City wind. It had blown a long way from the heart of the concrete jungle, each gust firing it farther and farther away as it swam through the autumnal sunset.

With a small, damp splat, the page landed against the windshield of a stranded motorcycle. The engine clicked chaotically as its exhaust billowed a noxious mix of cloudy steam and fumes. The lone rider leaned forward from the seat and  pressed the center of the page and peeled it from the glass. The back of his glove swiped off the wet residue.

“October 1st…” She read out the header. The bold letters had faded from days in the sun, but their meaning was clear. “October 1st Marks Three Days; Mourning Turns Into Bloodshed,” She paused and reread the words carefully. The image plastered in choppy black and white glowed bright with white flames wreathed in tiny black and gray silhouettes,

She huffed and crumpled the soft paper between her fingers. Regardless of what day it was now, the message seemed like an ominous foreshadow after her own blaze of glory. Her sweat wicked off her clothes as she eased away from the seat and stepped into the sprigs of grass along the highway….

“Wha’did ya say yer name was, kid?” The pickup truck howled above his voice.

“Chapeltown. My name is Chapeltown,” She gritted her teeth and leaned into the door as another bump shook the entire vehicle. Her bike scraped in the back.

“Ah yeah I remember some’n ya said ‘bout yer name, now,” The older man chuckled. His peppery neck flapped and shimmered with sweat. “Soo, Chapeltown, what left ya standin’ against the road like that? Engine troubles?” The awkwardness in the man's question was palpable. He glanced sheepishly between the road and Chapeltown, who seemed expectedly tense within his truck.