Nomad: A Story from The Reels

by Brian Ewing

  Púca thanked Andrick for his statement and asked both him and Fitz Ackerman to leave the room a few minutes while things were discussed. The two men walked out of the newly constructed office and stood against opposing walls. Andrick was on the wall opposite of the door they had just exited and could see there had been a sheet of paper taped on it that was written in black Sharpie: Púca’s Office. Andrick must have missed that when all the men entered but it made sense why that office had a poker tabletop in the corner.

  “You sure this is what you want, Nomad?” Fitz Ackerman spoke, arms crossed while leaning on the opposing wall while looking at Andrick.

  “Why wouldn’t I?”

  Fitz gently shook his head. “Just making sure. This is way different than adhering to your own schedule and rules. When you join a club, you are an arm of the club. When Púca or Mason says jump, the only thing you do is react. You are a soldier within the ranks. No longer a one-man army. As long as you know what you are getting yourself into…”

  “I appreciate the concern, Mr. Ackerman. Believe me when I say—”

  “My concern isn’t for you.” Fitz cut Andrick off. “I, too, am a non-member now. But these men will always be my brothers. I have seen Nomads try to integrate into camps and clubs and it fails almost every time.”

  Smart and challenging, Andrick thought.

  “I will always bleed 3S. I live in Saratoga City, but I hear everything 3S related through the grapevine. If I hear of any mishap with a Nomad recruited from the Spokane chapter, I will make it my business to come right a wrong.”

  I do know how to pick them.

  Before Andrick could respond, the large man with the pun for a name, Tiny, opened the door and summoned them back in. Púca had been sitting on the front of his desk, arms crossed, while the rest were scattered among the room.

  “After careful deliberation,” Púca started, looking over at Freddy and Rug mainly, then back to Andrick, “we have decided to allow Mason’s proposal to have you join our brotherhood.”

  The intensity of his demeanor lightened slightly as he uncrossed his arms and approached Andrick. It was then that Andrick saw something in Púca’s hand as he approached. He extended his arm and presented Andrick with a patch large enough to be put on the back of his currently blank cut. Andrick ran his fingers over the devil horns in the embroidered work of the 3S MC logo, then looked back up at Púca.

  “Congratulations, my friend. When we need you to be a Saint, you will be a Saint. When we need you to be a Sinner…”

  Everyone in the room started to chuckle.

  “…you be a sinner. Understood?”

  Andrick sure did. “I believe I can manage that just fine.”

  CHAPTER 25

  Sisto was starting to feel sick to his stomach. He couldn’t believe he let Fitz run off with a bunch of hooligans. He had been pacing back and forth, feeling the brace he wore start to chafe his inner thigh. It had been ninety minutes and they had not exited the building. Sisto looked at the entrance to the building the men had entered, to see it was guarded by two men that were not drinking or interacting with anyone. They must have been assigned that detail by Púca and instructed not to let anyone in while they were in his office. Sisto tasted Italian dressing in the back of his throat. The tangy zest made him smack his tongue around his mouth and try to loosen the strong flavor.

  Sisto looked at his burner phone, one of the things he picked up while at SCPD that morning, to avoid any incriminating documents if his phone were taken. It said it was a quarter to nine. Sisto thought how pissed off Bell would be if upon check-in he would have to tell the man that he had lost a civilian during his first dabble of undercover work. Pacing around another ten minutes, he saw shadows start to emerge from the building as they approached the glass door. One by one, the men that went into the complex for a meeting started to exit, letting Sisto start to relax. The moment was short-lived, however, as only Tiny, Cary, and two of Mason’s men exited. For some reason, Fitz, Púca, Mason, and that quiet guy, Andy, were nowhere to be found.

  Sisto’s initial reaction to retch started to return. He was turning into a ball of nerves and realized he was going to have to create a diversion to sneak into the complex and make sure Fitz was not in trouble. He watched as Freddy and Rug made way to the beer troth, filling up plastic cups with the barricade of kegs that were lined up. The two walked away towards their tent area and Sisto followed them through the moving crowd, but once they passed a man that was standing still, it threw Sisto off guard. The man was the only person not currently in motion and had been staring right at him. It took a moment to recognize the man in the extenuating circumstance. Sisto had to stare for a good ten seconds before his mind notified him that it was his teammate from SWAT, Kendrell.

  Kendrell, sipping a beer in hand, gently shook his head at Sisto.

  “Surprise, Asshole.” A voice spoke as Sisto felt a light shove from behind.

  Sisto felt like a complete phony and should have the title psychic removed from his résumé. The wolf-like, devilish grin and warm greeting came from none other than SCPD SWAT team leader, Luke Norton.

  “What in the fuck is going on here?” Sisto asked, completely baffled.

  “You know, all this talk of you having the second sight, really seems to be overrated. Based on your face, I assume you didn’t get in touch with Bell yet?”

  Fuck me, Sisto thought. Maitland wanted to send someone to cover Sisto and Fitz in the field. Of course, they would send the biggest prick on the planet to watch his back.

  “You’re…the backup?” Sisto barely was able to speak, looking then over to Kendrell.

  “We are all here, Dipshit.”

  Sisto now glanced around and aside from Norton and Kendrell, he saw Fuller at the DJ station, slightly dancing and only giving half of her attention to the slob hitting on her. The other half of her attention had been glancing at him and Norton, fifteen yards away.

  “Wow,” Sisto stated in awe. “I can honestly say, I was not expecting this at all.”

  “Where is the biker?” Norton asked, referring to Fitz.

  “Well, funny you should ask.”

  “Sweet God, you are already activating my Irritable Bowel Syndrome. Where the fuck is he?”

  “Honestly, I am kind of glad to see you. I could use your help with something.”

  The next ten minutes Sisto had given Norton an abridged report of what they had been doing and that Sisto thinks he may have found a potential offender within Mason.

  “Mason a first name or last name?”

  “These people are like feral animals; I am surprised they even have two names.”

  Norton not amused kept staring.

  “I have no idea, Norton. I may have heard it but I don’t remember.”

  “Anyone else feel good for this?”

  Thinking throughout his nightmares he endured the last twelve hours, Sisto realized he didn’t have many that fit the killer’s profile.

  “I have subjected myself to adulteresses, aggravated assaulters, money launderers, pimps, and Phil. No one aside from Mason is rubbing in that murderous way.”

  “Phil?”

  “Yeah, remind me when we are done with this to contact the Rock Springs General Hospital. They got an orderly feeling up everyone in the coma ward.”

  The look of distaste was momentarily replaced by intrigue. Norton wondered what it must have been like to have dark and horrible things thrown into your mind by simply brushing up against a stranger.

  “Okay, Sisto. What do you need from us? I got Powers and Tomb on standby in the van up the road. Just Kendrell, Fuller, and myself here.”

  “You see those doors over there?” Sisto pointed. “That’s where Fitz went to his meeting with the others, but just now, only half the guys came out. Fitz, along with Mason and one of his guys, and the owner of the complex, Púca, are still in there.”

  “Pooka…these fucking names,” Norton said.

  Sisto shrugged. “You
think you can create a distraction to get those two guys guarding the door to be occupied a few minutes so I can slip past them?”

  “Why don’t you just let me get in there and you create the distraction, Chief?”

  “Norton, you have no idea what anyone looks like…do you even know what Fitz looks like?”

  “Yes, I have his consultant ID image from SCPD.”

  “I have been training with you. These guys recognize me. If I get caught, I can say I am the cripple looking for a restroom. They find you snooping, you are leaving in a body bag.”

  “What is with that dumb getup?”

  “Long story, just believe me when I say it makes sense and has a purpose. You gonna help me or what?”

  “Give me ten minutes,” Norton said, turning away and signaling for Kendrell and Fuller to meet him off at some rallying point.

  Ten minutes. Ten minutes felt like an eternity knowing Fitz may be in trouble and Sisto let it happen. He started to think about Ama. He knew if something happened to Fitz, intentional or not, it would put a strain on his and Ama’s friendship due to the conversations they had before leaving. He cared for Ama and didn’t want to see her with anyone other than him, but he also didn’t want her heart to be broken. He looked back to see if he could find Norton and the others as the anticipation was killing him. He was going to make sure Fitzgerald Cornelius Ackerman was safe and sound and if for some reason was not, would do everything he could to get him back with the pieces that remained in the current moment.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Fuller walking back from wherever they had been conversing, right up to the far side of the dance floor. It was just below the stairs towards the back entrance, right where the two men tasked with protecting the door would clearly see her. Behind her was Kendrell and Norton, staggered in positions. Norton started swaying with a beer cup in hand, making his way towards Fuller. Sisto saw how the scenario was playing out. He started towards the side of the complex wall, scaling it slowly until he was no more than ten feet away from the two, armed men. That’s when Sisto heard a commotion on the dance floor.

  “C’mon, baby! You know you want some of this!” Norton yelled, slurring and signaling towards his genitals in Fuller’s direction.

  “My boyfriend is here, and he will fuck you up, you drunken asshole!” Fuller spat back.

  The acting was top-notch, considering the limited time they had to put something together. Right on cue, Kendrell starts shoving through the crowd to confront Norton.

  “You better take your honkey ass away from my Queen, motherfucker!” Kendrell yelling loud enough for the doormen to realize a situation was brewing, but still low enough to have a deep, scary tone.

  “Oh, sorry my man. I was just in the mood for some milk chocolate.” Norton slurred and presented himself as racist and perverse.

  The doorman saw the drunk white man trying to procure milk chocolate from the African American woman while moving his tongue back and forth in a sexual manner. The two guards looked at one another and as they saw Kendrell, a physically intimidating specimen, approach Norton with rage, the two men abandoned their post to break up what was sure to be a fight. Sisto heard more chattering among the played-out confrontation but slipped into the building quickly and jogged the best he could with his brace on, down a hallway to avoid being detected.

  To the right was a massive tarp, where behind it, Sisto could see ladders, paint cans, power tools, and more. It looked like they had left everything from Friday and didn’t want anything moved, simply putting up the tarp to avoid having to wrap up their project, then bring everything back the next week. Sisto went to the left, avoiding the stairs that were right in front, leading to the next floor. As Fitz and the rest went off initially, Sisto watched the men enter but saw no shadows ascending behind the tinted glass. Sisto went to the end of the lobby and hooked a right behind the stairs, which led to a hallway with many offices completely constructed. They had no doors attached, but some had hinges in place, waiting for the slabs of material to be delivered at a later date it seemed. Sisto went to the end of that hall and saw a fire exit stairwell door propped open by a five-gallon bucket.

  The stairwell was still internal to the building but led Sisto up to the second floor which had also been propped open. The doors had a mess of wiring next to each frame, presumably getting ready for electronic security passes. Sisto stepped in and looked around the dark floor. There was a sales floor on the left and right and directly down the center were rows of offices. Sisto made way cautiously past the office doors, one by one. After the third office, he remembered he had his thrift store karambit blade sheathed on his belt. Sisto removed the curved, sharp blade and had it placed with the crescent outward, allowing the razor tip to be the first thing to hook into an approaching assailant if needed.

  Sisto heard muffled sounds from the next office. He peeked in to see a passed out, overweight woman atop a sleeping bag, moaning in her sleep as she rustled along in a drunken stoop. Sisto became relieved and continued. He kept wondering what he would say to Ama if this situation didn’t come out the way they had hoped. Sisto made himself a promise, that no matter what, he would get Fitz back to her so they could continue whatever relationship they wanted. Sisto wanted to be with her, but he yearned for her happiness more than anything.

  Another sound at the last office on the left broke Sisto’s train of thought. Fighting stance and blade in hand, Sisto slowly made way towards the end of the hallway. The windows had been covered by a large red sheet, possibly multiple sheets, to give the office privacy. Sisto assumed being the only one with no visibility, it was probably one of the higher-ups. Púca, Cary, or it even could have been reserved for Mason.

  Fuck, Sisto thought.

  He could imagine what Mason was doing to Fitz at that moment. Flashes of the crime photos provided by the FBI flooded his mind. A dozen souls with empty life stared through those images. Every one of them with broken capillaries around their eyes and neck. Some with burn marks from being incapacitated. All ended up in the same manner, as a psychopath’s chew toy. Sisto wanted to tear Mason’s head off just for putting him through the terror of potentially losing another friend.

  Huh, I guess I do consider Fitz a friend.

  Now at the office door where all vision into the room had been impaired by the red sheets, Sisto waited to see if he could hear anything. There was a small light, possibly a lamp or computer screen keeping the room from complete darkness. It illuminated the red sheets just enough to let Sisto know it had been on. There was no sound that Sisto could hear at first. He wondered if he was mistaken. He looked around at the office opposing the one he had been standing in front of to see that door wide open with nothing but darkness inside.

  Just then a muffled cry from beyond the door was audible. Sisto shot his direction back to the closed door. Palms sweaty from nerves, he instantly got a flashback to the night he squared off against Carson Vinnova. It was the most nerve-racking experience of his life. A few fractures, bruises, and stitches later, he escaped on top. It did not come without a price though. He had lost Caden, as well as his best friend, Craig. The memory of the two men sharing beers on the rooftop before Sisto got called away about a case, bled into his mind. They were supposed to take a trip to Las Vegas together.

  Sisto buried the memory as it brought more strain to his heart and came back to the current situation at hand. He would not let Fitz become another Craig. Fitz was going to make it out of this hellhole in one piece. It was a promise Sisto told himself right before being shocked by another muffled cry behind the door. Sisto grabbed the handle and turned quietly but it had been locked. Sisto assumed that may be the case and had to figure out if he was willing to blow his cover if it was not Fitz behind the office door, but some druggies getting high or someone in a business meeting. The third muffled cry determined the next action.

  Sisto told himself that his cover be damned, he was getting in the office. He stood back and was about to kick
in the door when noticed the handle he had tried to turn, had some light from within the office coming out of the edges. The handle had not been secured, as the workers had seemingly been in a hurry to wrap up what they were working on before the event started over the weekend. Sisto put the blade of his curved knife into the opening and jiggled a moment until he heard a bolt fall within the door itself. Sisto pressed hard and felt the handle pop off on the other side. Sisto kicked the door open and saw Fitz Ackerman. He couldn’t describe what saw in words at that moment. It was nothing he was prepared to encounter.

  Fitz Ackerman was in the middle of a sexual act with someone he had bent over the desk. Both he and the man, who Sisto recognized was Púca, had a horrified look like kids caught shoplifting. Fitz unmounted himself from the money laundering, motorcycle club President and hurryingly pulled his pants up. Púca quickly pulled his pants up as well and cleaned up his tie. Both men started to babble until Sisto spoke.

  “Aye, I don’t care what you two were doing. It’s none of my business. Fitz, I need a moment of your time.”

  Fitz looked over at Púca who already had a firearm in his hand and rose his hand gently to indicate that he would deal with what Sisto witnessed. Púca, looking flustered, sat in his office chair while Fitz and he stepped out and closed the door.

  “What the fuck are you doing here?” Fitz demanded.

  “Really? You have the balls to ask me that right now? Everyone got out of the meeting and you disappeared. My heart jumped to my ass, man. I thought something happened to you.”

  The two men stood in the dim hallway a moment, unsure how to proceed.

  Fitz finally sighed and tried to explain. “Sisto, when we were back in the hotel room and I told you about why I left?”

  Sisto nodded, acknowledging he remembered the conversation.

  “I had mentioned that along with my cousin dying, I had gone through a bad breakup.”

  He let the last word linger a moment.