Warriors (Gutter Dogs Book 5)

by Carey Lewis

  The other things had to do with tracking down the Boppers, which wasn’t hard, just had to follow the dumb shits from 7-11, and getting a meeting with Cyrus through his brother. So they were brought to the house in a residential neighborhood, Dax squished in the middle of the backseat of the Volvo with Ajax and Cochise. The new guy they called Snow had to get in the trunk but he didn’t seem to mind as long as they played good music.

  This Snow kid seemed pretty excited, saying he’d never been to ‘the cave’ before while Cleon went inside to make sure Cyrus wanted to see them. When Cleon came back a couple of minutes later, he seemed to be in a foul mood. He didn’t like telling his fellow Boppers they had to wait outside. Snow was a little disappointed but tried not to let it show.

  As soon as Dax walked in, he thought it was a grandmother’s house. There was a plastic runner on the carpet, which Cleon was leading down to the door that went to a basement. On the walls were pictures of family members - grandchildren, children getting married, typical grandmother shit. He forgot what a grandmother’s house smelled like until he walked through the door - some kind of slow cooker smell, the definition of a home cooked meal.

  He could hear the sound of a game show. Dax expected if he went to the end of the hallway, he’d find a senior sitting on a reclining chair that would offer hard candy from a dish on the coffee table.

  Cleon led them down the rickety wooden stairs into the unfinished basement. He was surprised, seeing Cyrus for the first time, sitting in the middle of the room. He wore all black, a button down shirt done up to the neck, thick glasses on his face that made his eyes comically huge. The biggest surprise though was seeing how young he was. Probably a year or two younger than Dax and Lex. There was nothing threatening about him.

  Cleon got to the foot of the stairs and presented them in an exaggerated gesture, like he was presenting royalty. When Cyrus dismissed him, he swore he heard Cleon spit and then stomp up the stairs like a child that didn’t get his way.

  “Have a seat,” Cyrus said.

  As Dax and Lex walked into the room, Dax could feel Cyrus’s eyes on them, watching them like a hawk, putting a picture together; evaluating. Lex sat on the easy chair and Dax on the once discarded kitchen chair brought to Cyrus from someone’s trash pile.

  And then Cyrus waited. Clasped his fingers on his lap and waited, staring at them. It was chilling to see someone this young be so under control, so cool, not showing his hand to be bad or good.

  “I’ll just get to it Cyrus. Our leader, Zax? You know Zax?” Lex asked.

  Cyrus nodded.

  “Yeah, well, he was killed last night. Right in his home.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Goddamned shame,” Lex said. “I don’t think the cops even know yet. Went over this morning and saw him.”

  “No one talk to you yet?”

  “What I just say?”

  And Cyrus stared again. His big eyes seeming to take in more than sight had to offer.

  “We understand you’re coming up. Word on the street what it is and all.”

  “Any idea who did it?” Cyrus looked at Dax and he felt a shiver go through his body. The point blank question and looking straight at Dax, right in his eyes, it shocked him. He felt himself go wooden, hoping not to give anything away. He thought Cyrus would be able to read it all over his face.

  “No, it could’ve been anybody. Anybody trying to make a move,” Lex said.

  “I’m still in the fog why you’re here.”

  “We uh. This is a little embarrassing,” Lex said. “We need help.”

  “You want me to find out who popped your leader?”

  “If you can. But more than anything, we want protection. None of us want it happening to us.”

  “You know the only way you can get protection is if we absorb you. That’s the end of the Outcasts.”

  “Shit Cyrus, it’s already the end of the Outcasts. As soon as they killed Zax it was the end of the Outcasts.”

  “I have muscle. Some, but not much. They come at you full force, I’m just getting my own guys killed. I can’t fight a war.”

  “Oh shit, you haven’t heard?” Lex asked, faking surprise, looking over at Dax. He hadn’t heard either, actually had no idea what Lex was trying to do. “The Black Knights put the word out. Boppers ain’t to be touched.”

  For the first time, Cyrus broke just a bit, letting a smile creep into the corner of his mouth. “Is that right?”

  “I’m surprised you didn’t hear. Mesiah I guess put the word out. You on the up and up, not to be trifled with.”

  “So you get your protection by coming under our banner. What do I get?”

  “Cyrus. You get us. Us two, plus we got Max and Rex that serve for muscle.”

  “And that’s a good deal?”

  “I’d like to think so.”

  “Also get this bad blood from whoever you pissed off enough to put a cap in your man.”

  “And as long as Mesiah’s around, that ain’t nothing you got to worry about. I figure it’s win-win, you know. You’re on the up and up, figure you got to be looking to expand, right? Now you got more resources and we get protection. Win-win.”

  It seemed to be exactly what Cyrus wanted to hear. Dax was sure he had his doubts because Dax had his own, but for different reasons. He wasn’t sure if Cyrus bought it even if he did just watch Lex do the best acting he had ever done.

  And now the Outcasts were Boppers.

  This time they were sitting in an actual coffee shop - one of those that spent a fortune to look like a hole in the wall. It had an industrial, fifties feel to it, with high open ceilings that had the pipes showing. When Dax tried to order a milkshake, Lex ordered him a mocha. Lex himself made the jump to real coffee.

  Across the booth from them was Max and Rex, the two of them barely squeezed in. Max had to be about three hundred pounds, fat but powerful. Rex was smaller, maybe two-thirty, two-forty, but solidly built. He had the useful kind of muscle; not the kind for showing off but the kind that could pick up mountains.

  “Those the kids with big hair?” Max asked, scooping up his mashed potatoes. When he ordered it, the cashier said they didn’t have mashed potatoes, or any potatoes for that matter. Max told her she better fucking find some, gave her a look like it would be in her best interest. Rex ordered an omelet.

  “I don’t want big hair like that,” Rex added, a string of cheese hanging on his chin.

  “We’re not going to have big hair,” Lex said.

  “I don’t mind the plaid though. If those are the same kids.”

  “You can wear the plaid if you want, but we can’t wear our tags no more.”

  They both looked up, confused, food stumbling out of their mouths.

  “The Outcasts are no more. For now.”

  The two of them still looked confused.

  “I told you. You guys remember when I said Zax was gone right? That means the Outcasts are gone, can’t be going around wearing the tags if we’re gone.”

  “I don’t got no other shirts,” Max said.

  “You can wear it under the plaid. That’s allowed right?” Rex asked.

  “As long as you can’t see it,” Lex said.

  “I don’t have any plaid either.”

  “We’ll go shopping after this,” Rex said, biting into his toast.

  That’s when Max looked around, looked at all the patrons in the coffee shop, noticing the hipsters for the first time. “There’s a lot of plaid here. Can just take one of their shirts, save the money?”

  “You think any of these shirts going to fit you, you fat fuck?”

  “Then we’ll take two.”

  “Because you’re a seamstress now?”

  The waitress came over, Michelle, Dax thought her name was, asked how everything was while holding the urn of coffee.

  “You’re not touching your mocha,” she said to Dax, mock pouting. Dax didn’t know what to say.

  “We’re fine,” Lex said, making su
re she got the point to leave them alone. Dax kind of liked her. She wasn’t his type, or the type he was supposed to go for. She was clean looking, her hair was neat and shiny. She looked like maybe she went to college, had a future.

  “Let me know if you need anything,” she said with a smile, locked eyes on Dax for a moment before she went off to the next table. It was weird because this was the kind of snobby place that made you go to the counter to get your stuff after you ordered. He didn’t think they had waitresses.

  “Cops come to see you yet?” Lex asked, leaning forward now, lowering his voice to a whisper.

  “No one come see us.”

  Which was weird. Dax thought for sure he saw a shadow in the washroom at Zax’s place, thought for sure it was Kenzie in there. Wondered why she didn’t call the cops. She waited too much longer, Lex was going to find out she was a witness. He’d expect her to go over there and find the body.

  “You know what to say when they come right?”

  “What am I, an asshole? Rex asked.

  “Just want to make sure. Because they will come.”

  “We know what we say, we got our shit in order.”

  “So we’re Boppers now? Is that right?” Max asked.

  “For now.”

  “I don’t understand what that means,” Max took a piece of Rex’s toast and started sopping up the butter on his plate.

  “It’s like we’re undercover. We’re Boppers as long as it takes to figure out what Cyrus is doing. Then we take him out, go back to being Outcasts, but when we do, the Outcasts are on top. That make sense?”

  “I don’t care, we trust you Lex,” Rex said.

  Dax saw the smile grow on his face, then Lex turned to him, waiting for praise.

  “It’s your world Lex, we’re all just living in it.”

  “That’s why I need everyone always keeping an eye on him. I’m going to try to get close, but I need you guys for when he’s out of my sight.”

  “I hear he’s working with The Boss,” Dax said, hoping it was enough to scare Lex off whatever he was planning.

  “The Boss ain’t no gang. We’re a gang, it’s what we do. You think The Boss gives a shit who he works with? He just wants to line his pockets like the rest of us. We’re just going to show him we’re the best ones for the job, then we work with The Boss.”

  Dax looked away, looked over at Michelle behind the counter, ringing a muffin up on the cash register. She smiled at him quickly, then lowered her eyes. If things were different, Dax thought.

  “And if he don’t like that idea, we just convince him.”

  Lex finally picked up his coffee and took a sip. He immediately spit it back out.

  “This is fucking awful.”

  Lex didn’t care much for his big boy drink.

  He had a black mask over his head that smelled like citrus. Cyrus was in the back of a plumbing van, sitting on the floor, praying the back door wouldn’t open when they took the sharp turns the driver seemed to like. He could hear the tools rattling around on the shelves, making him wonder if they stole the van, or if they just went all out on appearances.

  They assured him it was standard protocol for anyone that wanted to meet with Mesiah, have a face to face. The Black Knights were very secretive about their headquarters; only a select few in their own organization knew where it was.

  He didn’t trust Lex. Wasn’t sure how much of what he said was true but the thing that intrigued him was Lex mentioning the Black Knights telling everyone he was not to be touched. Cyrus didn’t believe that either, but it gave him an idea.

  The van pulled to a stop and Cyrus heard some shuffling, people getting out of the van, then the back door opened and he was led out, told to watch his step. They weren’t rough with him but strong enough to let Cyrus know he shouldn’t try anything.

  When the mask finally came off, he was given his glasses back and saw he was in a giant factory that probably made steel at one point. It was completely refurbished, looking more like a relaxed game palace now with pool tables and couches, some arcade games along the walls, air hockey table. Looked like paradise for a twelve year old. He imagined the parties they had here, girls probably danced in those cages that hung from the ceiling.

  Sitting in front of him, he guessed was Mesiah. Cool looking guy, wearing sunglasses and military fatigues, the black beret on his head tilted to the side. The sash of bullets across his body told everyone he was cool but not someone to be fucked with. Between his fingers was a giant smoking blunt, the arm holding it propped up on the elbow of the giant throne made of steel.

  The Black Knights looked like African war lords, people walking around, toting AK-47’s. Everyone of them had one, along with the black beret, bullet sash, and sunglasses.

  “You come to me. Why?” he asked. Cyrus didn’t know if the African accent was fake or something put on for show.

  “Got some word you touting on the street people best not be laying hands down, you feel me?”

  “We speak English here, Mr. Cyrus,” the low, raspy voice booming in the large structure.

  It was a habit he got into when he was younger, growing up as a geeky kid, thinking he had to act street to be left alone. He didn’t realize no one understood what he said, that was the real reason he was left alone. He still did it when he got nervous. He was with the big time now, standing in front of the largest gang that existed for a hundred miles.

  “I been told you put the word out not to touch the Boppers.”

  “And if I did?”

  “Just wondering why we never heard it.”

  “How would that concern you, Mr. Cyrus?”

  “Just wondering if I can trust the man the word come from.”

  Two men now came from either side of Mesiah to stand next to the throne, flanking him.

  “You are allied with The Boss. We do not speak with him. He is not one of us.”

  “If Morgan Freeman was threatening, he’d sound just like you,” Cyrus said.

  “State your business here,” Mesiah said. Cyrus saw the two men change the grip on their rifles. It wasn’t a major move, just enough to send a chill.

  “The Boss, I know he offers me some protection, but I know it’s not enough to get me good with the other gangs. One of these others is spinning shit in my ear.”

  “Mr. Cyrus, now you are wasting my time. We don’t care who’s giving you pillow talk. You should hope you get to your point soon.”

  Being the largest gang around, with numbers and firepower, the Black Knights were an all black gang that oversaw all the smaller gangs that operated in the area. They let the gangs do what they wanted, and they knew everything, but they only got involved when the activities would affect them. Once in awhile, when they felt forced, they would step in and settle a situation to make sure it didn’t get out of hand and bring unnecessary attention.

  All the gangs answered to The Black Knights.

  “Let’s say I was in the market for a new partner. One I got now not having eyes for the world. Let’s say the world I got in mind have the same effect Coca-Cola has.”

  Mesiah didn’t say anything, just stared at him from behind those dark sunglasses.

  “Everyone out there pimping the same product,” Cyrus continued, “bringing the world together as one. Everyone having that one thing in common, you feel me?”

  “I still fail to see the purpose of your visit.”

  “Bringing me to why I’m here. We pool all us together, under one banner, we got it locked down. We all working together, no need for fighting. We’re all the same.”

  “You have enough Coke for everyone?”

  “And then some, that’s not the problem. The problem is the shipping. Getting it up here. We get that figured, we got ourselves a new world order.”

  “And who would run your new world, Mr. Cyrus?”

  “Shit Mesiah, you would. With me at your side. Think of it this way - we take all these little bitch countries that been scrapping it out? We put all th
em together into one country, what they got to fight about anymore? They all the same now, no use for it. You’re the President, I’m the Vice.”

  It got Mesiah to think, puffing on that giant cigar filled with pot. He was relaxed, the smoke slowly flowing out of his barely parted lips.

  “Your proposition is not one to be forced. Something everyone will have to agree to.”

  “You behind it? Shit, they going to be falling over themselves getting in. Maybe you’re not thinking about it, but you get bigger by it too. Maybe deal with some problems you got with others,” referring to the larger gangs, the motorcycle gangs, some mafia - the ones the Black Knights had been butting heads with.

  “You will no longer have a use for your current partner.”

  “I’ve made my peace with that.”

  Cyrus was getting closer to his dream, what he saw could happen and what he saw himself as. But he needed Mesiah to agree, to give him the clout behind it so he could be the man in charge. With Mesiah behind him, there was no telling how high Cyrus could go.

  “I’ll put together a summit, see if they want to come together under one banner.”

  And Cyrus got his wish.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “You sure it was the Black Knights?” The Boss asked.

  “Put a hat on his head, threw him in a plumbing truck. Hour later, plumbing truck drops him off, takes the hat off his head. Dude takes the hat off was wearing bullet sashes like Miss America.”

  “I didn’t think he had it in him, the little geek. Quite a jump.”

  “You thought he was just going to steal a shipment?”

  “Kind of yeah. Cyrus thinks bigger though, I knew that wouldn’t be his move.”

  “He steals the shipment it’s a one time deal,” Bulldog said, learning.

  “What he needs is my contacts, who I pay off. Thought he’d make a play for those.”

  “Mick’s seen some new guys around. Says they dress like they’re in a punk band. Sounds like the Outcasts to me.”

  The Boss looked at Bulldog, both of them sitting on the swing The Boss made, overlooking his back yard. The Boss had his tea, Bulldog wasn’t ready to give up his coffee yet.