Arsen

by Kathryn Thomas

  “We done here?” Arsen asked, keeping his tone neutral. “We’ve still got a long ride ahead of us.”

  “Yeah, we’re done. Let me know if this fake shit makes you grow two heads or something.”

  Arsen nodded. “Count on it. You find the source and we’ll take care of it. Making molly is one thing, but stamping it with the Heart and Dagger? That’s something else.”

  “Yeah. That’s like wearing an Advocates patch when you’re not an Advocate. We find out and you’re going to have a real bad day.”

  Arsen dropped the two fake tablets back into the little bag and folded it into his pocket. “You got that shit right.”

  The two men shook and turned, their brothers forming up on their Presidents as each group walked back to their leaning bikes. “Hey!” Jason called, causing the Blades to turn. “You sure you don’t want to leave her with us?”

  Arsen gave him a dismissive wave and a smile, a smile that disappeared as soon as his back was turned. “Prick,” he muttered just loud enough for Zane to hear.

  “It would solve out problem,” he pointed out.

  “Not in the way I want it solved. She give you any trouble?” he asked Chet.

  “She started to follow again, but once I stopped her, she just stood and watched.”

  Arsen shook his head. “What am I going to do with you?” he asked her, expecting no answer and getting none.

  “Let’s get something to eat, gas the bikes, then get the fuck out of here,” Zane said, and Arsen found himself agreeing. He divvied up the cash, mounted, and felt the woman slide into place behind him even before the Indian rumbled to life.

  Chapter 5

  They did a gas and go at the Love’s just before hopping on the interstate for the return trip to Tucson, but then stopped again at Daybreakers Café. This was their normal haunt for lunch when they were making a delivery.

  “Seven this time, Mary,” Chet said as they stepped into the diner.

  “Who’s your friends?” the older woman asked, giving the other woman a hard look.

  “My boss, his boss,” he said pointing first at Zane then Arsen, “and some friends.”

  “What happened to her?”

  “A crash.”

  Mary looked at him. “Uh-huh.” She turned and led the party to a large circular booth in the back and placed the menus on the table. “Jen will be right with you.”

  Arsen normally liked to sit on the outside, but he wanted their companion in the center, so he slid in with Zane on the outside to his right. She sat and stared straight ahead, not picking up her menu. He offered her his, and she took it, but he could tell from watching her eyes she wasn’t seeing it. He sighed.

  “What should we order her?”

  “A psychiatrist?” Berk mumbled.

  “You have a problem, Berk?” Arsen challenged.

  “Other than she bit me?”

  “You’re the one who grabbed her.”

  “You’re the one who wanted her on the bike.”

  “I didn’t say muscle her. If she didn’t want to get on the bike, that’s her choice. She’s obviously been abused, so that’s on you.”

  “What do you want from me, Arsen?”

  “How about a little compassion?”

  “We don’t know her. Maybe she brought it on herself.”

  “Really? What would Marla have to do for you to beat her like that?”

  Berk paused. “I don’t know. Maybe nothing.”

  Arsen grunted and let it drop. If she’d bitten him like she had Berk, he’d probably be cranky too.

  “What can I get you gentlemen to drink?” Jen asked, trying hard not to stare at the battered woman. She took their drink orders and left.

  “Do you know what you want?” Arsen asked, but she gave no indication of hearing. “A burger?”

  He gave up for the moment and worried about his own lunch. Jen brought their drink orders and he noticed her staring at her water. As Jen took orders, he offered her the glass. “It’s yours. Go on.” She took the glass and downed it without stopping.

  “For you?” Jen asked.

  “What are your soups?”

  “Chili, loaded baked potato, and chicken with wild rice.”

  “She’ll have the potato with sourdough. I’ll have the bacon cheeseburger. And another water for her as soon as you can. Make it two.”

  Jen took Zane’s order, left, and returned in a moment with two more glasses of water that she sat in front of the woman.

  She stared at the glass until Arsen nudged it toward her with a finger. She picked it up and downed almost the entire thing before stopping. She panted for a moment, then drained it as soon as she’d caught her breath. She reached for the other glass, but Arsen slid it away.

  “You can have it, but I want you to wait a second, okay? Too much cold water, too fast, will make you sick.” He slid the glass back in front of her. “It’s yours, and you can have as much as you want, but I want you to wait until your food arrives to drink it, okay?”

  She sat and stared at the glass. He wondered what she had gone through, and how long she’d been without water. As they waited, Jen brought two more glasses of water, which Arsen clustered in front of her. She didn’t reach for the glass again. He wanted to offer it to her, but he also didn’t want her puking and making any dehydration worse.

  When Jen returned with their tray, she continued to stare at the glass. “Go ahead,” he said softly, sliding a glass to the edge of the table. She took it, but only took a couple of swallows before putting it back.

  “Good girl,” he smiled, pushing her soup in front of her.

  “Anything else for you gentlemen?”

  When nobody wanted anything, Jen left. Arsen slid the soup in front of him and tasted it. “Shit! That’s hot! You better wait a minute for it to cool.”

  “You’re treating her like baby,” Berk sneered.

  “Better than letting her hurt herself,” Arsen replied, ignoring Berk’s tone.

  “What are we going to do with her?” Zane asked.

  “I don’t know. Maybe take her back to the clubhouse and have Doc Holiday look at her.”

  “Why?” Chet asked. “She’s not our problem. We can leave her here. She’s safe. She’ll have eaten and had something to drink. She won’t get heatstroke. Mary and Jen will watch her. We can call the cops and they could pick her up here.”

  “You’re sure she won’t walk out the minute we leave?” Arsen asked.

  “What if she does? She’s still not our problem.”

  Zane nodded. “I have to agree with Chet. She could be wanted by the police for all we know. We don’t need that.”

  “So just dump her?”

  “We’re not dumping her, Arsen,” Greg joined in. “We got her off the side of the road. We’ve fed her and got her out of the heat. What else do you want to do?”

  “How about we make sure she’s okay before we give her a boot in the ass?” he snapped. He gave her soup another stir to help it cool. He tasted it again, but it was still painfully hot.

  There was an uncomfortable silence before Zane spoke, his voice gentle. “We’ll follow your lead, you know that, but I want to make sure you understand what you’re doing. This won’t bring Holly back.”

  That stung. “I know. It’s not about Holly.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then what’s it about?”

  He sighed. “It about doing the right thing. I wasn’t there for Holly, but I can be here for her. If Holly were still here, she’d be the first one to tell all of you to go fuck yourselves, and she’d do anything she could to help this girl. You all know it.”

  Zane leaned back in the booth. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

  Arsen looked around the table. All the brothers were looking sheepish, even Berk. “I understand she’s not our problem, but I can’t just leave her stranded. I would hope someone would do the same if it were one of your old ladies.”

 
“Yeah, okay. Fuck it,” Greg muttered. “Let Doc Holiday check her out. He probably knows somebody who can get her the help she needs anyway.” The rest of the brothers nodded in agreement.

  He tried her soup then slid it in front of her. “It’s good. Try it.” She made no movement so he placed the spoon in her hand. “Try it.”

  She looked at the soup a moment then dipped the spoon into the thick liquid and brought it to her lips. She took several bites then stopped.

  Arsen finished chewing his burger. “You have to be hungrier than that. Come on.” He gave the bowl a bump with his finger to encourage her and she started eating again. He broke off a bite sized bit of bread, then dipped it in the soup and handed it to her. She looked at it a moment, before she took it, placed it in her mouth, and chewed slowly.

  It made for a slow meal, with Arsen having to continuously hound her to eat, but as the soup disappeared, she needed less and less encouragement.

  “Doctor Hollander, please,” Arsen said into his phone as she slowly ate. Doctor Richard M. Hollander, Doc Holiday to the club, had been the club doctor for three decades, longer than Arsen had been alive. Grizzled but sweet, he’d patched up every member of the club at least once.

  “This is Doctor Hollander.”

  “Doc, Arsen. Can you stop by the clubhouse on your way home? I have someone for you to look at.”

  “Who, and what happened?”

  “Who, I don’t know. Don’t know what happened either, but it looks like somebody kicked the shit out of her.”

  “Her?”

  “Yeah. I picked her up walking along the side of the interstate.”

  “Where is she now?”

  “Having a bowl of soup in Yuma.”

  “Yuma?”

  Arsen chuckled. “I’ll explain it all when you get there. Can you stop by? Bring your magic bag. I think you may need it.”

  “Yeah. It’ll be about five before I can get there.”

  “That’s fine. We won’t be back to Tucson until four, four thirty anyway.”

  “If you found her outside, and she’d been out there any length of time, make sure you get her cooled down and give her lots of water.”

  “Already on it, Doc.”

  “See you about five, then.”

  “Thanks, Doc.” Arsen killed the call, then immediately dialed his phone again, calling his Sergeant at Arms. “Phil, find somebody who’s free to take the van and get to Dateland to pick up a motorcycle.”

  “Why?” Phil asked.

  “There’s an abandoned Fat Bob sitting on the side of the interstate, if someone hasn’t stolen it already. I want it picked up and brought back to the clubhouse.”

  “Okay, but stealing bikes isn’t really our gig, you know what I mean?”

  “It’s either already stolen, or I have the owner with me.”

  “What?”

  Again Arsen laughed. “I’ll explain it when I get there. Just get on it. If I don’t see it on the way past, I’ll call, and whoever you sent can turn around.”

  There was a pause. “I’ll make it happen.”

  He turned his attention back to the woman. She was sitting again, the bowl empty and a glass of water untouched. Finished or not, she was done. They had to get on the road if they were going to beat Doc Holiday back to the clubhouse. If she wanted more water she could get it when they stopped at Gila Bend for gas. They would all be ready for water by then.

  Chapter 6

  We finally stop, and I worry the kind man is going to try to leave me again. I want to go with him, but he refuses to allow me, though he promises he won’t leave without me. He leaves me by his motorcycle and I watch as he walks a short distance away and talks to other men. Being by his bike makes me feel a little better; he can’t leave without me knowing so long as I stand by his bike.

  I stand in the broiling sun, unable to even sweat, my mouth so dry I can barely swallow and my tongue feeling thick and sticky. Finally, he returns to the bike and I sit down behind him. The black leather seat is painfully hot, but I didn’t care. I have endured far more pain, and felt far less safe, than what I feel now.

  We stop for gas and I stay close to him, standing near his bike, so he can’t leave me behind. I pray for water, but immediately after filling the bikes, he settles into the saddle again. I step onto the bike behind him and we are off. We ride only a few miles before stopping again. The kind man takes me into a diner and its blessed coolness where he gives me all the water I can drink. Never has anything tasted so good. After the second glass I think he’s going to deny me more, but he promises me as much water as I want if only I wait and not drink it too fast. My thirst has been partially quenched and I can wait.

  Food arrives and my mouth waters as I hope for a scrap. He pushes a bowl of soup in front of me but then begins to eat it himself and I swallow my disappointment as I yearn for something to eat. He only tastes it, then stirs it, the rich aroma of potatoes and cheese filling the air. Finally, he gives me the spoon. I’m afraid to believe he’ll allow me to eat, but he encourages me. I’d been denied food so often as I was used over and over, even the stale sandwiches I’d been given tasted delicious, but nothing like the soup with the piece of bread. Rich and creamy, it is the most wonderful thing I have ever tasted. I eat a few bites but then stop, wanting to save some for later, but he encourages me to eat more, then more still.

  When there isn’t enough left to save, I finish it, hoping for more, but he offers me nothing else. I’m disappointed, but I’d eaten more now than my last two meals combined, and my stomach is uncomfortably distended with water and food.

  I sit, my hunger diminished, my thirst quenched, the cool air making me drowsy. If only I could sleep and not worry about being awakened by a man demanding my body.

  The men on either side of me begin to move, sliding away from me. I look up, and the kind man smiles down at me, his hand held out as he calls to me. I don’t want to move. I want to sit here on this comfortable bench, or to lay down and sleep. He calls to me again and I go, sliding out as he takes my hand and helps me stand. I stagger and weave, my head spinning. He grips me strongly, holding me up and preventing me from falling, until my head clears.

  As I find my feet, he slowly loosens his grip, allowing me to stand. He looks at me and I can see concern in his eyes and I am touched. It has been so long since anyone looked at me that way.

  I follow him out. I’m exhausted, but I force myself to walk, make myself place one foot in front of the other. We reach his motorcycle and I wait for him to stand the bike upright then climb aboard. Again the seat burns my ass and legs, but I don’t care. The kind man is taking me with him, and that’s all that matters.

  We rumble out of the parking lot and back to the interstate. I’m turned around, everything looking the same in the desert. It seems like I’ve seen this all before, but I’m not sure. We ride for a long time, the desert heat like a blast furnace, but the rushing air makes the ride bearable.

  I become drowsy again, the rumble of the motorcycle and my full stomach trying to drag me into the darkness of sleep, but if I fall asleep now, I’ll fall from the bike and be injured at best, killed at worst. I lean into his back, resting my head on his shoulder, my arms going around his waist, the embrace feeling natural and I am comforted by it.

  I nod a couple of times, jerking awake when I feel like I’m falling, but I am still tucked securely into his back. I am nodding again when I hear the tone of the bike change. I struggle out of the twilight of sleep as he exits the interstate. We continue to slow and I see the sign.

  Gila Bend! He’s taking me back! I can’t go back. I’d rather die than go back. He continues to slow and I throw myself off the back of the bike. I land hard, bouncing and tumbling. The pavement is hot, burning my naked skin, but I can’t take the time to assess my wounds. I jump to my feet and run, bouncing off a car before dashing across the road. I am running into the desert, but I don’t care. Better the hell of the Arizona desert than the hell of my pri
son.

  I hear the roar of his motorcycle, then the pounding of his feet as he gives chase. He’s too fast and he catches me just as I clear the railroad tracks. I fight, holding nothing back, but he’s too strong and he quickly overpowers me.

  Chapter 7

  The Blades exited the interstate in Gila Bend. Their bikes were nearing their limit on fuel and this was the best place to stop for gas, the near exact halfway point between Yuma and Tucson. They were going to fill their bikes, grab a quick drink, then make the final two-hour drag to the clubhouse.