by Reid, Ruby
Knowing that he had that dark part to him—a part that was capable of such remorseless violence—was like living with a bomb in his head. He could sense that side of him lurking at the controls of his actions and thoughts whenever he got into a fight. The hell of it was, though, that he had come to hate that part of him. It made him feel like a monster. Worst of all, knowing that part existed when a large part of him badly wanted to be with Amanda seemed like a huge contradiction. How could two such polar extremes exist within one person?
He assumed that a shrink would tell him that it was because he had felt the need to be loved for his whole life. His father had been a semi-violent drunk, and his mother had been the cardboard wife, only spending time with him when it was absolutely necessary. She had been more worried about saving her own ass from her husband’s violent tendencies. Love had never come easy to him. During his countless one night stands, a few had become something close to dating, and only one of those had felt anything like love.
But now there was Amanda, and all of that changed. Had he known that there was something about her from the start? Had he sensed it when he had rescued her from that creep in the restaurant parking lot? He thought so… only then, less than a week ago, he hadn’t known it for what it was.
Those thoughts were interrupted by the approaching sound of a purring engine. Living around motorcycles for so long, Alex knew a bike engine when he heard it, even from a distance. He turned to look back the way he had come, waiting for the glow of a headlight. It appeared two minutes later, lightly bouncing down the road towards him.
As he watched Slim’s bike pull up next to him, he again felt bad that his friend had gotten involved. It was not his fight. Sure, it could be stretched to say that because Marco O’Brien was an enemy to the Unknowns, it sort of was Slim’s fight. But as far as Alex was concerned, the main goal at the end of this was Amanda’s safety and, if he was lucky, her eventual forgiveness.
Slim killed his engine several yards away and walked his bike up beside Alex’s.
“Looks like trouble follows you even when you aren’t part of the club,” Slim joked.
Alex smiled and surprised them both when he gave Slim an awkward man-hug. Slim returned it awkwardly and said, “You’re good people, Alex. But I’m not about to go Brokeback Mountain with you out here in the middle of nowhere.”
“Thanks for coming,” Alex said.
“Of course. You got a plan?”
“Aside from ‘kill, kill, kill,’ no, I don’t.”
“Hey, that’s a plan that’s always worked for me. Let’s get to it.”
Slim then reached into his saddlebag and retrieved two guns that Alex had seen several times in his years on the road with Slim. They were both standard Glocks, the kinds that Jameson preferred for Unknown work.
“The good news,” Slim said, “is that they’re both fully loaded. The bad news is that I don’t have any more ammo. So if you need to take a shot, make sure it’s a good one. You know if he has any hired hands?”
“He had one with him earlier. But I took care of him. I’d never seen the goon before, so I guess he’s hiring local muscle.”
“Yeah, he has a history of that. I’m going to assume he didn’t bring you all the way out here to have a one-on-one with you.”
“Yeah, that’s what I figured.” He then looked to his phone. He had fifteen minutes left out of the two hours Marco had given him.
“Time to go?” Slim asked.
“Yeah.”
“Lead the way.”
Alex started walking down the state maintenance road. An old sign scarred with buckshot informed them that the road would end in half a mile. The road was partially made of gravel with the other half consisting of ruined pavement. Their footsteps were quiet, masked by the tall grass of the field around them.
They walked along the edge of the road, Slim directly behind Alex. The road made a slight bend and then straightened out again. After several hundred yards, Alex saw the shape of a building and a car parked in front of it. A light was on inside the building. As they got closer, Alex tried to determine what sort of building it was, but it was difficult to do in the dark. His guess was that it was some sort of retired power station or a random shed that the state had once used to store equipment.
As they got closer, Alex then saw the other car. It was parked along the side of the building, almost as if it was supposed to be hidden but whoever had done so had done a terrible job.
“Yeah,” Alex said. “Two cars. He’s definitely got some help.”
“That makes this a lot more interesting.”
“You say interesting, I say dangerous.”
Slim shrugged nonchalantly, but it was apparent that he was also beginning to understand the gravity of the situation.
“I think we should—,” Alex started to say, but was interrupted.
The sound of a gun blast filled the night, and ground two inches from Alex’s right foot seemed to explode. He went diving into the tall grass, followed by Slim. As they hit the ground, more gunshots sounded out and bullets tore through the grass all around them.
For a moment, Alex was sure that he had been shot. His stomach ached as if there was a fire inside of it, but then he remembered the wound that he had gotten there earlier in the day. His heart hammered with the knowledge that he could have very well been killed moments ago. He then looked around furiously for Slim, hoping that he had also made it to the ground safely. The grass sucked in terms of defense, but he thought it might at least do a suitable job of keeping them hidden.
Alex tried to say something to Slim, but his voice was drowned out by more gunshots. Alex listened closely to them and was pretty sure the assholes down there were simply laying down fire to scare them. It spoke of inexperience, but it also clued Alex in to the fact that they probably had ample ammunition—something that Alex and Slim did not have.
“What now?” Slim asked as the gunfire finally settled down.
Alex shrugged, hating the fact that he didn’t have an answer for the man that had come out here to help save his life.
The two men shared an uncomfortable glance as they lay in the grass while the night came alive with the sound of more gunfire.
“They’re just trying to scare us,” Alex said. “I don’t even think they really know what they’re doing with those guns. I think we can advance between their bursts. One of us pops up and lays down a few rounds while the other crawls forward. Alternate doing that, and we can get there.”
“Good idea,” Slim said. “But that would get you down there with very little ammo.”
Alex had thought about this, but had seen it as trivial. If he could make it down to the building and find Marco, he didn’t think he’d want a gun. He wanted to tear Marco apart with his bare hands and bathe in the blood.
CHAPTER 8
It wasn’t nearly the first time that either Alex or Slim had ever been in a gunfight. As Alex lay pinned to the ground with bullets whizzing by him overhead, he hoped that this would play to their advantage. If Marco had gone out and hired a few armed thugs, the chances were good that the only experience they had in this situation was the up close and personal sort of shootings that often took place in gang communities.
That was Alex’s hope, anyway. If he was wrong, there was a very good chance that he wouldn’t even make it out of this field, much less make it down to the building below them. He stayed down, waiting for a momentary pause in the gunfire. It finally came, and the night seemed far too quiet in contrast.
Alex looked to his right and saw Slim’s shape hunkered down in the grass. They shared a nervous look and Slim gave a signal, holding up the number three and then pointing ahead. Alex got the message and nodded his agreement.
Slim then started counting off on his fingers. One. Two. Three.
Both men got to their feet in a crouching position to remain low the ground and advanced quickly. They fired off a few shots, not wanting to waste their ammunition but wanting the en
emy to know that they were armed and weren’t going to take any shit. They dashed forward, nearing the place where the field ended and the clearing with the building began. They ran forward until they heard the first report of return gunfire and then dropped back to the ground.
Alex rolled several feet to the left as he hit the ground, wanting to get closet to Slim. They had just about reached the end the tall grass and wouldn’t have any sort of cover for much longer. Also, any lucky blind shot into the grass could strike them at any moment.
Luckily, though, the return gunfire didn’t last very long. It stopped several seconds after it began. Slim gave the signal for a three count again, but before he could give it, they were interrupted.
“Alex!”
It was Marco’s voice, shouting to him from the building that was now less than twenty-five yards away. Hearing it infuriated Alex and made him want to simply charge down there and open fire, danger be damned. But if Marco did have Amanda, being killed wasn’t going to help her at all. In fact, if he died, he was pretty sure Marco would kill her anyway.
He did not respond to Marco, but waited to see if he had anything else to say. As it went with most egotistical people, it turns out that he did.
“I see you brought a partner to help you,” he said. “That wasn’t part of the deal.”
Neither was bringing hired guns, Alex thought.
“But here’s the new deal,” Marco went on. “You and your buddy stand up and toss your guns. Once you start walking down here, I’ll let your friend walk away from this unharmed… like he was never even here.”
Alex didn’t buy it at all, but he knew men like Marco. If he played along and gave Marco the idea that he was fully in control, it would be easier to pull the wool over his eyes when the time was right.
“Are you there, Alex? Or did one of my men get you?”
Alex wasn’t about to give away his position just yet, so he remained quiet. He looked over to Slim and whispered, “I think I need to play along for now. I’m going to stand up. Wait about ten seconds and then follow my lead. I have an idea, but you’ll have to listen closely.”
“Your show, boss. But be careful. Marco is crazier than a bag of cats.”
Alex was beginning to believe this. But it was another reason he thought it was a good idea to stand up. He wanted Marco to think he was winning and that he, Alex, was fearful.
Slowly, he got to his feet. As he did, he raised his hands above his head. When he was fully standing, he looked to the old building ahead and did his best to take in the scene. Marco was standing just outside of the door. There were two men a few yards ahead of him, both standing in a shooter’s stance. One had a handgun, and the other had a stout-looking shotgun.
He then realized that the car they had seen was running. As he stood, the headlights came on and fully exposed him.
“Throw the gun down,” Marco said.
Alex did so, throwing it directly towards Slim. Then, trying to speak without moving his lips, he hissed, “Pick it up.” There was motion in the grass as Slim did exactly that.
“Now get your buddy up off the ground,” Marco ordered.
“I need to know you have Amanda,” Alex said.
“Have your friend stand up.”
“No deal,” Alex said. “I need to know for sure you have here.”
Marco took this moment to think for a moment, and as he did, Alex talked through a mostly-closed mouth again, speaking to Slim. “Three of them. Marco’s in the center. They’re all slightly to your left about twenty yards out. Come up blazing after I’ve taken three steps. Shoot for about three seconds, and then drop again.”
“Roger that,” Slim said.
Marco poked his head into the building and said something that Alex couldn’t hear. What he did hear was the voice that came screaming out of the building moments later. It was a woman’s voice that was so laced with fear that it sounded almost like a wounded animal.
“Alex!”
It was Amanda, and hearing her voice like that tore him apart from the inside. He took a deep sigh and then took his first step forward.
“I need your partner to stand up,” Marco said. “Now.”
Alex ignored him and continued stepping forward. One step, then two, and then the third.
“Last warning, Alex,” Marco said. “Get your friend to—,”
Slim sprang up from the grass with both guns in his hands. There was only a second’s pause before he opened fire. He heard someone scream from down at the building and he hoped with a violent and sick desire that it was Marco.
The firing of Slim’s guns also gave Alex an opportunity to run forward. He made it almost all the way to the edge of the clearing where the building sat before Slim stopped firing. As he ran forward, Alex saw that the man that had been shot was not Marco, but the man to Marco’s left. Marco had instantly ducked inside when Slim had popped up and started firing. The thug to the right of the door was on the ground, writhing in pain and still screaming.
The man to the left of the door finally broke out of his surprise and started firing back. Alex hit the ground at once as Slim’s firing stopped. When he landed at the edge of the grass, he realized that he was out in the open, now fully out of the tall grass.
“Slim!” He yelled. “Gun!”
He looked back, but Slim was nowhere to be seen. He didn’t respond to his name, and there was no motion in the grass. As Alex looked back, shots continued to blare out from the front of the building as the remaining thug took shots at him. With no other alternative, Alex dove back into the tall grass and began to crawl on his belly back to where Slim had been shooting from.
The clearing round the building was quiet behind him. He assumed this meant that Marco and his remaining hired hand were regrouping. Alex started to think of a game plan to use this to advantage, but all thoughts in that regard were cut short when he came to Slim.
He saw the blood first. It was splattered in the tall grass in an abstract pattern that looked nearly black in the darkness if night. The headlights behind him flickered from it and made it look sinister.
“Slim…,” he said.
“One of those bastards is a good shot,” Slim said.
Alex slide up beside Slim, and his heart sank at what he saw. Slim had been shot just below his heart. The blood that had already escaped his body was pooling around him, and more was coming out. As he spoke about the capabilities of the shooter than had got him, blood came bubbling out his mouth, and he started coughing.
“I’m sorry, Slim,” Alex said. “Hang tight, and I’ll run to the bikes and call for an ambulance.”
Slim laughed. Through the blood, it sounded like laughter from an insane asylum. “Cut it,” he said. “Look at me. I’ll be dead before an ambulance gets here.” He coughed again, and more blood came out.
“I’m sorry,” Alex said again, mainly because he didn’t know what else to say.
“No time for sorry,” Slim said. Alex couldn’t help but smile, as it was such a typical Slim-thing to say. “Just… pick up these guns and go take care of this.”
Slim let out a groan here, and his face was filled with pain. He shook his head. “Go now,” he said, his voice now little more than a whisper. “I don’t want you to see me die. I’ll be damned if that’s how I want you to remember me.”
Alex wanted to say something more—to express his gratitude—but he also wanted to respect Slim’s final wish. So he gave a solemn nod, fighting the tears away, and picked up both of the guns. He gave his good friend one final glance and then turned back towards the clearing and the building ahead.
Trembling with anger and determination, Alex stalked forward. He didn’t crouch down or hide in the grass any longer. Instead, he walked across the field as a man on a mission, with death on his mind and his hands really to dish it out.
CHAPTER 9
At some point during the gunfight, Alex had torn his stitches and the wound below his chest had opened up and started bleeding. This,
coupled with the fact that it was hard to grip the gun in his left hand due to the splint, made him feel slightly crippled as he stepped out of the field and into the dirt lot that housed the abandoned building.
Once, when he had been fourteen, he’d gotten into a fight with five older guys at school. They’d broken his hand, chipped a tooth, blacked both eyes, cut his arm, kicked him in the balls, and sprained his ankle. But he had still won. Until now, that beating had been the worst he had ever taken. After a while, he’d learned to fight too well—almost eerily so.
