Outlaw: Screaming Eagles MC

by Kara Parker

  He didn’t want Sophie to grow up without a father. He was going to die in this hole and no one was ever going to know what happened to him. She was going to think that her deadbeat biker dad had skipped town one day and never come back. She would grow up hating him and telling everyone that she had never known her father and didn’t care to.

  “Oh, little Falcon. You always thought you were so much better than me, but look where you are now. A rat, beaten, bloody, bruised and left in a hole to die.”

  He had been hearing his father’s voice for a while now, it probably wasn't a good sign. Falcon hadn’t thought about his father in ten years. He had no idea what had happened to the man, maybe he had died like this. Maybe he had pissed off the wrong people and died cold and alone, just like his son would.

  “You thought you were such hot shit when the Screaming Eagles took you in. You remember that fight that we had? We were screaming at each other. You told me they were your family now and that you were done with me, didn’t need me anymore. Now look at you, you disgusting, weak, piece of shit, traitor.”

  “Shut up,” Falcon mumbled to the empty room. He was so tired, he could barely keep his eyes open and his head kept drooping to the side. But he couldn't really sleep; he was in too much pain and the cell was too uncomfortable. He could only doze in and out for a few moments, which was somehow worse than no sleep at all. It was a tantalizing glimpse of sleep; it was a drop of water for a man lost in the desert; it wasn’t enough.

  He couldn’t control his thoughts anymore. First it was the out of control counting and now he could not make the voice of his father shut up no matter what he did.

  “No one’s coming for you, son,” his father’s gravelly voice said. “You fucked up and now you’re screwed. You’re just like your old man. You’re a fuck up. You’re gonna die in here and nobody’s gonna miss you. But that’s what you get for fucking a cop.”

  Why was it his father’s voice he was hearing and why did he remember it so clearly? He wasn’t sure if the man was dead or alive, but he had been a shitty father when he was around, so it made sense that his hallucination was equally as unhelpful.

  “Go away,” Falcon murmured, his head slumping to the other side. He needed to sleep and eat and lie down in a bed. He needed a shower and a fistful of painkillers. He didn’t want to suffer anymore. He was looking down the barrel of the rest of his life and what he saw was this: hunger and thirst and pain and the walls of this cell.

  “I named you, Falcon. It was my decision. Did you know that? Did I ever tell you why?”

  The mirage of his father asked him. Where was he? Falcon turned his head and tried to see where the voice was coming from, but all he could see were the bare, grey cement walls of his cell. There were splotches of blood smeared across the floors and walls, and while he couldn’t remember putting it there he was sure it was his. “Fuck off,” Falcon murmured.

  “When your mother told me she was pregnant with you I panicked. I didn’t want to be a father. I didn’t want to be saddled with some kid. I left on a Tuesday morning. I got up and told her I was going to find some work to help support her and the baby, but I was planning on leaving and never coming back. I didn’t even have anywhere to go. I just wanted to be in a place where I wouldn’t have to pay for diapers and watch some kid. I was on my bike driving down the street when this bird zoomed right past me; it was so close its wing clipped my helmet. I thought I was going to have a heart attack right there on the bike. But then it flew away and I figured it was some weird fluke and kept going. But then it came back. Two more times it flew right past my head; it was like it wanted to tell me something. It was like something out of a fairy tale, a bird who was bringing me a message.

  I pulled over onto the side of the road and took off my helmet and looked around wondering what the fuck was up with that bird-”

  “I hear something,” Falcon whispered. “I can hear wings.” It sounded like the ruffling of a thousand feathers. It felt like they were all around him, cushioning him and gently caressing him with their wings.

  “So I’m pulled over on the side of the road and then, I shit you not, this fucking falcon lands on this branch about two feet from my head. I could see every inch of it. It had these beady little eyes, and sharp claws and it kept tilting its head like it was looking at me, like it was trying to figure me out.”

  “Do you hear it?” Falcon whispered. His head was pounding; his mouth was dry. He needed to move, but he wasn’t sure if he could. He pushed himself forward and hand over hand he pulled himself across the floor towards the bars. Inch by painful inch he moved, leaving the sound of his father’s voice behind.

  “So, I’m feeling like a madman looking at this bird like I expect it talk to me-”

  “Be quiet,” Falcon said. “I’m trying to listen.”

  The sound of the feathers was getting louder and he couldn’t figure out if it was just his concussed brain playing tricks on him. He knew his father wasn’t there, but the birds sounded different. They sounded so close and so real like he could reach out and touch them.

  Falcon turned his head and looked up as he heard pounding footfalls above him. Someone was running. No, lots of people were running. Using all of his remaining strength he pulled himself up until he was standing, more like leaning, against the bars. Using his good eye, he looked around the dungeon, but he didn't see anything or anyone. But the footfalls above him were getting louder and heavier. People above him were running away from something or towards something. Still trapped in the basement Falcon had no idea what was going on.

  Was he in trouble? Was something going on? He was trapped, it wasn’t just the bars that imprisoned him, but his injured and bloody body was a prison as well. Even if escape did present itself he wasn’t sure if he could walk let alone run. Through his bloodshot eye he stared down the hallway waiting to see what would happen. He could still hear the birds.

  Maybe they were angels coming to rescue him. Not that Falcon was expecting a ticket to heaven, but what else could that noise be?

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Falcon pressed his bruised face against the bars of his cell, straining to see what was going on. He could still hear the rustling of an uncountable number of feathers and the sound of running feet, but there was another loud noise. It was a loud banging. Bang! Bang! Someone was hitting something, something close to him, but he couldn’t figure out what.

  Then there was one final bang and the sound of footsteps pounding down a flight of stairs. For one moment, for the briefest of moments, he thought she was an angel. She came flying down the stairs with her gun out as she raced past the empty cells all the way to Falcon who was in the very last one.

  “Oh my God, Falcon,” Grace said. She was staring at him through the bars and her eyes were wide with fear. “What did they do to you?” She reached through the bars and took his bruised hands in her own. Her skin was so soft and smooth and the sight of her in front of him was almost too beautiful to describe.

  “Are you really here?” Falcon asked, his words slurring together as he tried to talk around his swollen lip and his broken nose.

  “I’m here. We’re gonna get you out,” Grace said, still holding his hands. “This is my partner, Mike. He’s gonna pick the lock.”

  Falcon looked down as Grace’s partner quickly opened a lock picking case and got to work on the lock. He was a shorter, stocky guy who barely glanced at Falcon as he got to work.

  “Do you hear all of those birds?” Falcon whispered. “I can hear birds...”

  “Yeah,” Grace said with a crooked smile. “So, uh I was having trouble getting you, so we tried something crazy.”

  “Crazy doesn't begin to describe it,” Mike said as he continued to work.

  “What did you do?” Falcon asked. Part of him couldn’t quite believe she was really there. Maybe she was just another figment of his imagination, another hallucination he couldn’t control.

  “We released about two hundred and fif
ty pigeons into the clubhouse,” Grace said. “Everyone’s distracted and they can’t tell if it’s a prank or an attack, but it doesn’t matter. We don’t have a lot of time and we need to get you out of here before someone figures out what’s up.”

  Then the lock clicked and the door swung open. For a moment Falcon couldn’t believe it. He had been staring at those bars for what felt like years. In his mind they were sunk all the way down to the core of the earth and were as immovable as mountains. The fact that they had opened was impossible. He would have sworn they couldn’t move at all, but they had been opened and all he needed to do was walk out.

  “Come on,” Grace said, grabbing his hand and pulling him out the door.

  “No,” Falcon said, pulling his arm away from her and backing farther into the cell.

  “Grace, we gotta go. You said he was going to be cool,” Mike said his head turning towards the wide-open door. “We don’t have a ton of time here.”

  “Where were you?” Falcon slurred. “How long have I been down here?”

  “Four days,” Grace said. “Falcon, you have to believe me when I tell you I tried to get to you, but I had to be careful. I didn’t know what happened or where you were. All I’ve been doing these last four days is trying to find you. Please, you have to believe me.”

  Falcon fell against the back wall, barely able to keep standing. Grace was here; she was here rescuing him. How many times in the last four days had he hoped for and imagined this? But she wasn’t his savior; she was the reason he was in here.

  “Think about Sophie, Falcon,” Grace said, she walked into the cell and took his hands gently guiding him towards the door of the cell.

  “Did they hurt her?” Falcon asked.

  “No, she’s fine. We’ve been watching her. But I’m sure she misses you. Don’t you want to see her?” She was pulling him out of the cell.

  It felt wrong for him to walk out of the cell. He had convinced himself he was going to die in there and then to not die was confusing. But Grace was pulling him and he wanted to go with her and he thought about Sophie, about seeing her again, and he took that one step over the threshold and then he was out.

  But he was still weak and exhausted and barely able to stand. Mike and Grace steadied him as best they could as they hurried up the stairs. The clubhouse was in chaos. There were birds everywhere. Pigeons lined the rafters above them and sat along the bar. The floor was covered in white bird droppings as people yelled and ran for cover while others tried to catch the wayward birds.

  No one saw them. No one saw as Falcon, Grace, and Mike slipped out of the back door. There was a black SUV in the parking lot, but the Screaming Eagles had about ten black SUVs, so Grace’s didn’t stand out. Falcon was quickly ushered into the back seat and then Grace and Mike got in the front and they peeled out of the parking lot.

  “Holy shit!” Mike said, pounding his fist against the dashboard. “I cannot fucking believe that actually worked. Birds, Grace. Who would have thought that birds would work?”

  “We’re not out of the woods yet,” Grace said.

  “You still think bringing him back to yours is a good idea?” Mike asked.

  Falcon was lying down in the back of the SUV. The cushions were so soft beneath him and the air around him was so warm. He looked up and out the window and could see the blue sky and the occasional tree branch as they sped down the road. He was out; he was actually out. It wasn’t a hallucination; he had escaped.

  He pushed himself into a sitting position and looked out the window. The world was still there. There were still people out driving their cars and living their lives. Falcon had been stuck in a cell beaten and bloody and he had almost forgot that there was a world beyond those cement walls. It seemed insane that the planet had continued to spin and exist without him.

  “Where are we going?” Falcon asked. “Where are you taking me?”

  “Falcon,” Mark said, turning around to look at him. “What did you tell them? Did you tell them anything about Grace or the investigation?”

  “No,” Falcon said, shaking his head, his eyes still staring out the window.

  “It’s okay if you talked. You were tortured and everybody talks under torture. That’s why they do it, because it works. You’re not in any trouble and no one is going to think less of you if you told them about the investigation.”

  “I didn’t talk,” Falcon said, looking Mike right in the eye.

  Mike nodded and turned back around.

  “For right now, we’re going back to my house, Falcon,” Grace said as she continued to drive. “If you didn’t tell anyone about me, then it’s the safest place for you.”

  Falcon nodded. Taking him to her house was the least she could do. This was all her fault. From start to end everything bad that had recently happened to him all led back to Grace. He didn’t want to go back to her house; he didn’t want anything to do with her. But he needed a place to stay. He needed a shower and a bed and he needed to lie low while he recovered. Grace’s apartment was as good a place as any.

  They stopped in a random parking lot and dropped Mike off. He gave a worried look in Falcon’s direction like he didn’t trust the other man alone with Grace, but eventually he closed the door and left and Falcon and Grace were alone. She pulled out of the lot and headed east. The sun was setting and everything was bathed in an orange glow. Falcon hit the button to roll down his window and took a deep breath of the afternoon air.

  Freedom. He was out. He had survived it. The worst possible thing that could happen had happened and he had come out on the other side. They say that what doesn’t kill you only makes you stronger. Falcon certainly wasn’t stronger at this moment, not physically, but there was another strength. He knew what he could handle now, how far he could go. It made him feel strong and invincible.

  He was hurt, but not dead. He was going to get better. He was going to get stronger. He was going to be physically stronger than ever before. The Screaming Eagles had no idea what they had done. Did they really think that this was all it would take to break him? He was going to get better and then the Screaming Eagles were going down.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  “I think I might be a little past first aid at a cop’s house,” Falcon said. He still couldn’t see out of one eye and he couldn’t breathe through his nose. His ribs ached every time he took a breath and coughing was utter agony. He could only see her eyes as she stared at him from the rear view mirror. Her green eyes were tinged with worry and it seemed like she was glancing back to check on him every other second as her eyes flicked between Falcon and the road.

  “My mom was a nurse, so I know more than the average girl,” Grace said as she made a turn onto a nice looking residential street. “Plus, the Screaming Eagles will be looking for you and the hospitals are the first place they’ll go. We can’t let them find you; we need to hide you somewhere safe and at the moment my place is the safest.”

  The road was lined with ranch houses painted in muted colors and impeccably green lawns. Falcon had never been inside one of these nice houses. He had driven past them a few times, but everyone he knew lived in apartments and split levels out the outskirts of town.

  Being in this neighborhood felt wrong to Falcon. He didn’t belong here and anyone who looked at him would know it. His motorcycle and now his bloody and beaten face marked him as a man who didn’t belong amongst such pristine houses. He belonged in places with dirt roads and dive bars where liquor was cheap and women were cheaper. People here would turn their noses up if Falcon walked past. They would complain about the noise of his bike in the late hours.

  She turned down another street, taking the route that was so familiar to her and so strange and alien to Falcon. Finally, at the far end of a long, mostly empty lane, she turned into a driveway in front of a small brick house. It was quaint and rustic looking in a way that appealed to Falcon. It wasn’t new and he liked that. This was no cookie-cutter house with it’s effective plastic siding. No, thi
s was an old house, a holdout from when an entirely different type of people lived in this area.

  Grace opened her door and stepped out of the car. Falcon followed. As he opened his door Grace rushed to help him. She held out her hand to steady him, but Falcon just brushed her off. His legs were shaking and he was in pain, but he stood on his own two feet and took a few steps onto her onto the vibrant green grass of her lawn.

  Grass. Dirt. Sky. Had Falcon ever really appreciated them before? He had been in that cell for days and he had been sure he would never see anything other than cement and iron bars for the rest of his short life. But here he was. Falcon knelt down in the grass and ran his fingers over the delicate green blades. He felt their spindly arms caress his hands as he moved his arm back and forth above them.

  He could smell the dirt beneath him, he could feel the wind on his face. He was alive and he was free. How many men had never come this far? How many had died, alone and cold, in the bowels of the Screaming Eagles’ headquarters? How many would only see the sun from the prison yard? At that moment he wanted to cry. He wanted to fall and let the soft ground cushion him and he would have been fine just sleeping outside in the grass with the blue sky above him.