No Man Left Behind: A Veteran Inspired Charity Anthology

by Elizabeth Knox

  Skid’s eyes closed and I nudged him with my foot. He looked around and stood, stretching before he pulled his shirt and cut back on. Black hair slicked away from his face, he was starting to grow a beard, hoping to move past the teenage look he still was cursed with. He only got his club name because he loved to drift his bike around, skidding the pavement, and generally being loud.

  “Let’s grab something to eat before it’s all gone,” I encouraged, and he followed me to the picnic table set up under a large pavilion.

  The music was blaring from speakers set up near the roll-up door to the garage, and the smell of weed filled the air. We both made a plate and sat down, digging into the tender ribs and grilled corn. Tammy, one of the older sluts, wagged her ass as she walked up, sitting her ass on the table across from us.

  “You boys want some company?” she purred in a nasally tone, squeezing her naked, fake tits, trying to be seductive.

  “Pass,” I replied and watched as Skid shivered in disgust.

  No one touched Tammy anymore since she had been rode hard and put away wet too many times to count. She continued to hang around the club, hoping to catch a member and become an old lady. No one wants their old lady to be the doorknob of the club, so she keeps getting passed over and passed around.

  She grabbed her fake tits and squeezed them together in her hands, trying to be seductive as she turned to Skid and asked, “What about you, baby? You want to have a good time?”

  “Hell no!” was his reply, and she huffed before jumping down and stomping away.

  Her ass jiggled in the wrong way in her tiny cut-off shorts, and I laughed as she disappeared into the crowd of leather vests.

  “That was mean.” I continued laughing, and he joined in, clinking his beer bottle to mine. “You could have at least gotten some head from her.”

  “Fuck no! She deserved it. Since I showed up here, that crazy bitch has been asking to ride my cock. I’d rather fuck my hand than let my dick anywhere near her nasty ass. Do you know one time I watched her fuck three brothers from Florida, and she went ass to mouth.”

  I spewed my beer and nearly fell onto the floor from the look of repulsion on his face. A few brothers joined us and had the prospects bring fresh beers to the table. Kicking back and stretching my leg, I enjoyed the freedom the membership and brotherhood now afforded me.

  Chapter Three

  Sadie

  Uncle Mick called me early in the morning to let me know Dalton, I’m sorry, Skid, was being patched into the club tonight and I was so happy for him. My younger brother wanted to be a DeathHound since he was old enough to walk, always imitating Uncle Mick and popping wheelies on his little bike. It wasn’t the future I wanted for him until I saw how happy being a hang-around made him.

  Our uncle was a retired member of the club who left when he couldn’t ride anymore. I watched my uncle go from alive and happy to spiritless and depressed when his arthritis became too much to continue riding, and I worried a future for my brother might be the same. They didn’t ask him to hang up his cut, but his pride kept him from the runs and club events. I hoped with my brother joining, my uncle would at least spend some time with the brothers. I know they all miss him but respected his wishes.

  Mick wanted me to know in case Dalton didn’t come home that he was safe, reminding me to keep my younger brother, Jacob, at home. We lived in a small two-bedroom house a few miles from the clubhouse. I’d been working on my business degree at the local community college and working full-time waiting tables to make ends meet. The house wasn’t fancy, but the area was safe enough for us, and with the club protecting us, I never worried. Anything was better than the hellhole I grew up in.

  Our mom died almost two years ago from a drug overdose, but it had been years since she was a part of our lives, and since I was twenty-two and living on my own since I was sixteen, they granted me custody of Jacob. Dalton was within a few days of his eighteenth birthday when the stupid bitch took an overdose of heroin and never woke up. He went to Uncle Mick and gained his prospect patch the same day. Occasionally he stayed overnight with Jacob and me, but most of the time, he lived in his small cottage behind the clubhouse. Each brother had a place to crash and many of them lived there full time.

  I spent many nights in Uncle Mick’s cabin with my brothers tucked into the bed beside me when my mother was too fucked up to take care of them. I was four years older than Dalton and fifteen years older than Jacob, but I was still a kid too. She neglected us all, and her brother tried to pick up the pieces where he could. None of us knew who our fathers were, and I hated her for that.

  Life around the clubhouse was crazy on a good day and insane on others, but in all the chaos, they were a brotherhood that protected their own. Spending time there I saw respect, loyalty, and deep down inside, I craved the affection the brothers showed their old ladies. Affection and love my own mother never gave us, and seeing that it was real and obtainable, I wished someday for someone to love me like that.

  I was working on making dinner when I heard the back door open. Turning, I saw Jacob walk inside, his size smaller than an average nine-year-old. Dalton was the same way when he was little and now I’m dwarfed by him, so I wasn’t worried, but I hated how he was picked on for his size. I knew some of his anger was directed at our shitty mother and the way she died, and often I caught the brunt of his frustrations.

  Expecting another argument about why he was late getting home from school, I noticed he was unusually quiet and withdrawn and immediately knew there was a problem. Jacob was an active little boy who would talk your ear off about anything and everything.

  “Jacob? Are you okay?” I asked, setting the spoon down and slowly walking to him.

  He turned, his blue eyes filled with tears, and it was then I noticed the red drops of blood covering his clothes and face. Rushing to him, I fell to my knees and tried to inspect him for injuries, only to have him pull away from me and step back.

  “Jacob. What . . . what happen? Are you hurt?”

  He shook his head and a tear fell onto his face. He swiped it away embarrassingly, streaking the blood below his eye, and I gently reached my hand out to him. Jacob linked his fingers with mine and I pulled him to me, not caring if I got blood on my clothes.

  “Will you tell me what happened?” I whispered, and he shook his head again. “Will you tell Dalton?”

  He nodded quickly, still silent, and I released my hold on him reluctantly. Looking into his soft blue eyes, I spoke softly, “Let’s get you cleaned up and we can go find him.” He shook his head again. “Do you want to go right now?” He nodded, causing another tear to fall, and I fought my own. “Let me grab my purse and we’ll go to the clubhouse.”

  I got him secured into my old beater car and headed toward the clubhouse, unsure if they would even let us in. I hadn’t been there since I was a teenager and from what I remembered; it was always a loud party with liquor flowing and plenty of willing women. Worried about what we would walk into, I sent Dalton and Uncle Mick a message letting them know I was on the way to the clubhouse.

  The Death Hounds compound was over forty acres of land situated less than a mile from the only entrance to the Flats. They were the barrier between trouble and boredom. The road leading into the Flats was exactly like I remembered, and the closer we got, the higher my anxiety got. My life there was a horror show and from an early age, I knew to avoid Marco and anyone who was associated with him.

  He peddled the drugs, ran the prostitutes, enforced his laws, and he was brutal to anyone who crossed him. Trying to keep my head down, I locked us inside at night and made sure to never be out alone. I made that mistake when I was fifteen and I carry the scars on my body to this day. No one had ever seen them but Uncle Mick. I made sure of that, and now that I’m getting closer to my nightmare than I’ve been in years, I’m fighting the need to take Jacob and run. I heard rumors Marco was dead, but the fear was still present and overtaking my rational brain.

  I se
e the lights from the compound up ahead and I glance over to see Jacob staring out the window, silent and trembling.

  “We’ll be there in a minute. You doing okay over there?” I asked, a noticeable tremor in my voice.

  He whispered, “I’m okay,” and I exhaled a deep breath.

  Gripping the steering wheel tighter, fighting my sweaty palms, I turned into the driveway and stopped the car at the ten-foot-tall gate blocking the entrance. A prospect walked out of the little house and placed his hand on his gun as he approached the car.

  “What’s your business here, darlin? You looking for a good time?” he asked, peering into the car and down to my chest.

  I looked down and realized I left the house in my comfy shorts and a tank-top under my t-shirt with no bra. This was not the way I wanted to walk into the club for the first time in years, my hair tossed into a messy ponytail, no makeup, and a pair of flip-flops. Tugging my shirt, hoping to cover myself, I leaned into the window and whispered.

  “I need to see Dalton. Shit, Skid. I need to see Skid.”

  “He’s already got enough sluts warming his bed tonight, darlin. Why don’t you come back another time and leave the kid with a sitter.” He chuckled, glancing at Jacob who was stretching to see inside, his entire body trembling.

  “Listen, asshole. Tell Skid his brother and sister are here and it’s an emergency,” I yelled, fighting the tears that were quickly building in my eyes.

  “Sadie?” he asked, and I nodded, the tears overflowing from my eyes.

  “Shit, girl. My bad. You should have said so. Let me get the gate for you. Heads up, it’s crazy in there tonight,” the nameless prospect said and pulled the gate open, revealing the raging party underway.

  I pulled the car into a space immediately next to the gate, hoping to make a quick getaway after Jacob explained why he was covered in blood. He’s a good kid and I don’t think he hurt someone, but I needed to know exactly what happened so I could protect him from whatever blowback would come at us. No matter what, I would protect both my brothers, like I’d done my entire life.

  As soon as the car stopped, Jacob unhooked his seatbelt and pushed the door open, darting from the car and running toward the sea of drunk men and naked women. I jumped out after him, screaming his name.

  “Jacob. Stop. Jacob!”

  He disappeared into the crowd and numerous members turned to see who was yelling, their eyes locked on me as I tried to push into the crowd. A hand grabbed me around the forearm, and I froze in fear as I heard his whispered words.

  “Let him go. I’ll keep you company.”

  On instinct, I turned and kneed him in the crotch, and he dropped to his knees. I looked up and saw more than a few Death Hounds turn their angry eyes to me. I tried to step back when I was met with a large body stopping my escape.

  My vision turned spotty as the memories surrounded me from all sides. The last thing I remember was falling to the ground and my head bouncing off the pavement before everything went black.

  Chapter Four

  Kade

  I was enjoying the evening, our brothers celebrating not only mine and Skid’s patching into the Death Hounds, but a successful alliance with the Devil's Handmaidens MC down in Georgia and Alabama. They would be additional security to the club when we needed to go through their territory, and they had good connections to a few arms dealers we wanted to do business with. It didn’t hurt that they were a group of badass females who were easy on the eyes and tougher than most men I knew.

  Even though I was relaxed sitting under the picnic pavilion, there was a part of me that was always on alert. Downside of military service was they taught you to always be looking for an incoming attack, so when I saw the gate slide open on the far side of the yard, my eyes took in the old car and I dismissed it as another member or possibly the girls arriving after they left the MC owned strip club in Rockhampton.

  “You want another beer?” Skid asked and I shook my head, breaking my attention on the car.

  I lifted my half full beer and he nodded, knowing I never got drunk, only buzzed. Taking a sip of the warming beer, I found myself in a conversation with Smokey about the newest shipment of ammo arriving this week. Finding legal guns was easy, but finding ammo was growing harder and harder.

  “Maybe we should offer re-loads for the range and we could make a decent profit. It would ease the need to source new ammo for target-practice, and we could do all the work in house,” I reasoned, leaning my arms onto the wooden table, and lowering my voice.

  While we were all brothers, each member had a unique role in the club, and we didn’t openly discuss business in case a hanger-on or club slut was around. A murmur from the side of the yard made me turn my head and when I saw a small boy running through the brothers screaming Skid’s name, I jumped up and quickly grabbed him from his conversation.

  Memories of scared children running from insurgents in Iraq filled my vision, and I fought to keep myself grounded in the present. My hand trembled, and my heart raced as Skid came around the table and saw the little boy running toward us.

  The look on his face was pure panic as the little black-haired boy saw him and increased his speed. Stopping in front of us, the boy placed his hands on his knees and fought to catch his breath as Skid came around the table and fell to his knees.

  “Jacob?” he asked, and when the little boy stood up, the blood splatter on his shirt was visible to all the brothers sitting under the pavilion. “Jacob, are you okay? Where’s Sadie?”

  Realizing this was the little brother who Skid adored, seeing him covered in blood and the utter panic on his face, I swung around, trying to figure out why he was here and where his older sister was. He looked over his shoulder toward the gate and we all turned our attention to the quickly growing group of Death Hounds closing in on someone.

  He pointed to the beater car parked near the gate and when I saw a brother fall to his knees, the circle of Hounds grew tighter. Skid sat him down and barked ‘Stay’ while my feet carried me to the disturbance. Getting closer, I could hear Skid running behind me and as I approached the group, I realized his sister was on the ground, bleeding.

  “What the fuck?” I shouted, pushing brothers aside, trying to get to the center of the group. Reaching Sadie, I crouched down and saw she was bleeding from a gash on her forehead and I bellowed, “Who the fuck hurt her?”

  “She passed out,” someone replied, and the group stepped back, giving me room. “No one touched her.”

  Skid fell onto his knees in front of her and leaned over, brushing her dark hair from her face. I gasped when I saw the beautiful woman, vulnerable and bleeding, lying on the ground.

  He patted her face. “Sadie, wake up.”

  “What the fuck happened?” he yelled as the gate opened and Mick, a non-active member of the club, pulled in.

  The old man ran to us and dropped down, his knees cracking as he inspected her for injuries. Her clothes barely covered her small tight body and when she moaned, I gently rolled her onto her back. Seeing she was barely dressed and still unconscious, I whispered to Skid, “Let’s get her to your room.”

  “Your place is closer,” he replied, and I slid my arms under her neck and knees, lifting her from the dirty concrete.

  Mick, Skid, Smokey, and a trembling Jacob followed us through the throngs of members, each watching us with a curious gaze. I wasn’t one who was generally gentle, so I’m sure it was a shock to see me carrying the small woman, whispering words to get her to wake up.

  Skid opened the door to my small home and Bear, my German shepherd, ran to the door and sniffed Sadie as I gently lowered her to the bed. The door closed behind us and my small room was even smaller as we all checked on her, assessing her injuries.

  Skid turned to his little brother and lowered to his level as Mick wet a washrag in the sink and started cleaning the blood from her face. “Jacob, what happened to Sadie? Is this her blood on you?”

  Jacob’s small voice cut throug
h the room, “No.”

  The little boy burst into tears, pulling Skid into him, and wrapping his arms around his big brother. I made eye contact with her uncle, who in turn looked to our President, Smokey, for what to do.

  “Let’s take Jacob outside and see what happened to him. Gunner, you sit with Sadie in case she wakes up. Doc’s on the way to check them both out,” Smokey decreed and Mick, Jacob—who was being carried by Skid—and Smokey left me and Bear alone with Sadie.

  I checked her pulse and found her heart rate to be erratic. She shook, and I covered her with a blanket. Bear, my faithful companion, crawled gently into bed with her and placed his head over her lap as I finished cleaning the blood. She had a minor cut on her head with a knot forming, but otherwise, she appeared to be unhurt.

  Bear whined, and I reached over, rubbing his head. When I first prospected with the Hounds, I was still having nightmares. Waking up in a cold sweat and always on edge, I was struggling to move past the pain and impending doom that being in Iraq instilled in me. One afternoon a few weeks after I moved into the tiny house behind the clubhouse, Bullet knocked on my door and in a state of panic, I pulled him inside and shoved a gun into his temple.

  He talked me down and I thought for sure I was about to be killed. Instead, he and I got on our bikes and rode for two days. No words, no explanations. Just the open road and the wind rushing past my face to help me finally calm down. When we arrived at our destination, it was another chapter of the Death Hounds.

  Not knowing what to expect, it surprised me when he introduced me to a brother who bred dogs for service animals. When we walked around to the kennels, I saw Bear and the moment I approached his cage; I knew he would be what saved me. They trained him to know when my anxiety was growing too much and when my PTSD flared beyond what I could control; he was the only thing that could bring my focus back to now.