Minus

by Jack Davenport

  I moved in closer, staying low and out of sight, to a window. I slowly peeked in and could see Minus tied to a chair. His head was swollen, and blood was pouring from his mouth, soaking his beard. My hand covered my mouth to hold back a gasp. My eyes flooded with tears and my jaw ached from fighting the urge to break down in sobs. I had to stop this animal before I was too late; that is, if I wasn’t already.

  I composed myself as I crouched down and made my way to the front of the house where I found the splinters of the front door littering the porch. This was obviously not a planned-out location for the creep, so at least I had that going for me. This was unfamiliar territory to him, he was currently distracted, and I had the element of surprise. On the other hand, this guy was a professional killer and I was a girl with a marketing degree and a bolt-action tranquilizer rifle. It may not have been the wisest choice of all the guns I could have taken from Duke’s cabinet, but I’d never killed anybody, and I didn’t want to start today, if I could avoid it. I still had Minus’s pistol, just in case. Even though my brother’s club was clean, pretty much all the members carried guns. I grew up around them and knew how to defend myself, and was plenty handy with both handguns and rifles

  I stepped into the house’s tiny entryway, crouched down below a low wall that ran all the way to the living room. The creep’s back was to me, and Minus was directly in front of him. I could hear Minus speaking; his voice low and muffled, and his words garbled. From where I was all I could hear was something about “sex with your sister,” before a loud crashing sound. I peeked over the top of the half-wall and could see Minus tied to the chair on his side with the creep standing over him, his back still to me. I used the chaos as an opportunity, popped up from my hiding place, and squeezed off a shot which went at least two feet high and right, missing him completely.

  The creep spun around to face me, utterly confused at what he was looking at. I loaded another dart, and slid the bolt to chamber another round, as he reached behind him, producing a knife. I fired my second shot, this time hitting him squarely in the chest. He staggered back, tripping over Minus who lay motionless. I pulled out the pistol and ran to the two men, who lay of the floor in a twisted heap.

  “Don’t move, or I swear I’ll kill you,” I said, my gun trained on the creep.

  He looked down at this chest, already clearly disoriented from the tranquilizer dart.

  “These things were meant for horses, but I’m pretty sure they work on assholes too,” I said.

  He pawed at the bright orange end, but to no avail. He began to lose motor function and his eyes rolled back into his head.

  “How does it feel, bitch?” I said and stomped his crotch with everything I had.

  * * *

  Minus

  How was I in a car?

  “Hold on, baby,” I heard Cricket’s sweet voice over the roar of the engine.

  How the hell did Cricket find me?

  “Jase? Can you hear me?” she asked.

  I smiled, through great protest of my face, and gave her a ‘thumbs up.’ It wasn’t all the way up, but it was the best I could manage.

  “We’re gonna get you to a hospital, baby, don’t worry,” she said, turning back briefly to look at me.

  “What... happened?” I gurgled. Blood from biting my tongue, and lost teeth filled my mouth. Deep cuts from the cable ties stung my wrists, and I was highly concussed. I remembered only fragments of the past hour or so, thanks to my friend with the phone book, but most of his beating was, unfortunately fresh in my mind.

  “I got you out of there,” Cricket said. “Try not to move or speak, I’m gonna get you to a hospital. Stay with me!”

  I could tell by the tone in her voice that I was in bad shape.

  “Sounds like a plan,” I replied and passed out.

  Minus

  “Jase? Jase? Baby, wake up.”

  I could hear Cricket’s voice, as if she was calling to me from the opposite end of a long, narrow hallway.

  “Jase, wake up.”

  My eyelids felt heavy and ached. In fact, there wasn’t much of me that didn’t currently ache, except of course, for the parts of me that were in pure agony.

  “Jase? Can you hear me?” Cricket asked, and I felt her squeeze my hand.

  I squeezed back.

  “Jase! Baby, can you hear me?” Cricket rasped in excitement.

  I forced the only eye open that I could. “Jesus, what does a guy... need to do to get a little... rest around here?”

  The room erupted with laughter, which honestly scared the shit out of me more than anything.

  “Oh, my God, honey, we were so worried,” Cricket cried and kissed my hand.

  “Welcome back, shithead,” I heard Clutch say, and his image came into focus.

  “Where am I?” I whispered.

  “You’re at OHSU,” Cricket replied.

  “Portland?” I exclaimed. My throat felt like I had swallowed razor wire.

  “Easy. Try not to talk too much. You’ve had a tube down your throat to help you breathe.”

  “How long... have—”

  “Four days,” Cricket said quietly.

  My eye opened slightly wider, and Cricket continued, “They had to put you into a medically induced coma to relieve the swelling in your brain. They started the procedure to bring you out of it about 20 minutes ago. Everyone is here. Clutch, Cutter, a bunch of the Saints.”

  “How did I get here?” I asked, rubbing my neck.

  “I called Cutter on the way to the hospital in Savannah, and he reached out to Eldie.” She left me briefly, returning with a cup of water. Sitting me up, she guided the straw to my mouth and I drank greedily. “Slowly, honey. Don’t gulp.”

  I nodded, taking as much as I could... the cold soothing my throat.

  “Her father is the head of neurosurgery here,” Cutter explained. “And when she told him you were her friend, he had you medevacked here immediately. You’ve been under his supervision and care the whole time.”

  “He was called away for a minute, but said he’d be right back.” Cricket leaned down close and whispered, “The cover story is that were you involved in a bar fight, defending the honor of a nun.”

  I looked at her puzzled. “A nun?”

  “Haven’t you heard the old joke about a nun walking into a bar? It was the only story I could think of at the time, don’t judge me. Besides, my friend, Sadie, actually was a nun and she met her man in a bar.”

  “I’m gonna need to hear that story one day.”

  She grinned. “I’ll tell you later.”

  I smiled, then pointed up to my head.

  “Dr. Gardner says you’re going to be fine. You suffered a nasty concussion, but he was able to get the swelling under control without surgery and the rest of your bumps and bruises are healing without complication. If all continues to go well, he says you should be out of here in four or five days.”

  Clutch nodded. “The Doc says you probably won’t be any stupider than you were before, so that’s good news, but you ain’t doing any modeling any time soon.”

  “Unless it’s a gig where you have to play ground beef,” Cutter laughed.

  I shifted. “Duke... Pearl?”

  “Shhhhh. They’re fine,” Cricket said. “The paramedics and police arrived right as I was leaving, and they were treated for only minor injuries. The drugs had no lasting effects, and apart from being very sore from being dragged around by an unidentified blonde woman are doing fine.”

  “What happened to—” I rasped, squeezing her hand tightly.

  She smiled. “The local police arrested a man by the name of Francisco Duarte, of Boyle Heights Los Angeles, for kidnapping and burglary. It seems they found Mr. Duarte, a.k.a La Cuchilla, or “The Blade” in a cabin, not far from the Double H Ranch. He’d had some sort of altercation with an, as of yet, unidentified party and a mishap with a tranquilizer gun. They found a host of illegal medications in his car and were able to trace his trail back to the Do
uble H Ranch. Police are also looking for others that may have been involved, but so far have no leads. Not surprisingly, La Cuchilla isn’t talking.”

  “He’s a dead man anyway, once Los Psychos gets ahold of him. He probably won’t make it out of prison,” Clutch said. “They don’t take failure too lightly, and he failed big time,” he said laughing hysterically. “He got shot in the chest with a tranquilizer gun... by a chick!” He was laughing so hard, tears were streaming down his face.

  “This chick might have a few of those darts left for you, if you keep flappin’ your gums,” Cricket snapped at Clutch, once again causing the room to erupt in laughter and cheers.

  A squatty nurse suddenly appeared in the doorway with a scowl on her face. “You have too many visitors, and you’re making too much noise. You’re disturbing the other patients.”

  “And you, ma’am, are disturbing to look at, but I wasn’t givin’ you any shit about it,” Cutter said to more howls.

  “Alright, everybody out or I’m going to call security!” she hollered, and the motley crew filed out.

  Cricket stayed put, right by my side. The nurse also held her position by the door, where she stood and eyeballed Cricket.

  “Look here, nurse Ratchet,” Cricket said. “My man almost died, and I haven’t been able to speak to him in four days. So, if you think I’m going anywhere, you’re gonna need to call for a psych-eval on floor number six... for yourself!”

  Lucky for her, she backed right off, and Cricket wasn’t asked to leave again.

  * * *

  Three days later, I was climbing the fucking walls. I’d had my fill of hospital food, daytime TV, and the never-ending cycle of good nurse/bad nurse. I swear to awkward teenaged-years Jesus, there’s never been a profession that attracts both living saints and utter masochists.

  “Good morning, baby,” a voice sweeter than any nurse’s surrounded me, as Cricket entered the room, her arms filled with a giant wicker basket.

  “I love it when you call me that,” I said, as she leaned down to kiss me.

  “Really? I’d have thought tough guy Minus would have a problem with such a sweet pet name.”

  “Pet name?” I asked smiling. “You been hanging around Dogs too much,” I teased, and she kissed me again.

  “I’m just surprised you like it when I call you baby, that’s all.”

  “The first time you did, I knew I was still completely in love with you,” I said.

  “When was that exactly?” she asked.

  “When we were on the phone, the night we left for Savannah,” I said.

  Her cheeks flushed. “When my brother was there? You heard that?”

  I smiled. “Of course. That was the end for me.”

  She came in for another kiss, and I made sure to savor every moment with her. I couldn’t wait to get out of this fucking bed, and these fucking clothes, and throw her on the back of my bike and ride for miles. With Cricket by my side, and the Burning Saints behind me, I truly felt like there was nothing I couldn’t do. Cutter would be here soon, and we’d have some decisions to make, but for now I wanted to stay focused on Cricket.

  “I can’t believe you caught that.” She sighed. “You should have seen the look on Hatch’s face.”

  “I’d pay a million dollars to see video of that.”

  “Speaking of...,” she looked around before continuing, “... a million dollars.”

  “Yeah?”

  “I’ve been thinking a lot about what I want to do with my salary money.”

  “What’s that?” I asked.

  “I’m going to start a non-profit organization that takes in street kids and teaches them how to build and repair cars, trucks, and...”

  “Motorcycles,” I finished.

  “Yes,” she beamed. “And horses. I want to help the other Minuses and Clutches on the streets of Portland and teach them a trade; give them goals to strive toward. Teach them how to start their own businesses. How to take care of animals and land. Maybe it starts with fixing up bikes, and later we can add culinary classes, or who knows what else,” she said, waving her arms excitedly.

  “I think it’s great, and as much as I hate to admit it once again, Cutter picked the right person to help turn this club around. I love you, Cricket Wallace, and I can’t wait to face the future with you.”

  “I can’t wait to get you out of this bed and into yours, or mine, or whoever’s,” she said kissing me again.

  “How about our bed?” I asked.

  “Ours?”

  “Let’s get a place together, of our own. I don’t have a place here in town, and I don’t want to stay at the Sanctuary. You’re just renting anyway—”

  “Yes!” she exclaimed, showering my tender tomato of a face with kisses.

  “Ow! Careful.”

  “Sorry, baby,” she said, just as Cutter and Clutch walked in. Cutter looked much frailer than before we’d left for Savannah. I think the stress of everything was wearing on him and I wondered how much longer he’d be around. I was angry that the two of us couldn’t have figured out a better way to communicate earlier on. I felt like I had so much to learn still from Cutter, and I hoped I still could before it was too late.

  “Get a fuckin’ room, you two perverts,” Clutch said, while assisting Cutter, who was now using his cane full-time.

  “This is my room, dickhead!” I retorted.

  “Yeah, well not for long ’cause we gotta get you outta here, pronto,” he said.

  “What’s up?”

  “Viper’s on the move,” Cutter said, taking a seat.

  “A guy that does some jobs for Wolf told him he spotted him in Old Town last night. He was in civilian clothes, but he had two huge dudes with him,” Clutch explained. “Since La Cuchilla’s failure at the Ranch, Viper had been laying low, and by that, I mean, dropped completely out of sight. Los Psychos club activity around Portland had also slowed to a crawl.”

  “What the fuck would Viper be doing in Old Town?” I asked.

  “I dunno, man. Maybe that’s the point. Hide out where no one would think to look.”

  “Maybe,” I said. “We need to know more about Viper. I don’t like how in the dark we are about this guy’s life here in Portland. Our resources clearly aren’t good enough.”

  “What, then?” Cutter asked.

  “It’s time for the Burning Saints to join the twenty-first century,” I said. “Cricket, you were telling me about your hacker friend. This guy trustworthy?”

  “He’s a Dog,” she said.

  “Who cares if the guy fucks around, is he any good?” Clutch asked.

  “She means he’s with the Dogs of Fire, dickhead,” I said.

  “I swear to God, it’s not too late to pull the plug on you. I can get Doc Gardner back in here and make him do it. He likes me.”

  “Booker is the best,” Cricket said, ignoring Clutch. “I can call him now, if you like. What do you want to know?”

  “Everything,” I said. “Just because we haven’t been able to find a paper trail on him, doesn’t mean one doesn’t exist. Ask Booker to throw everything he can on this guy and I’ll make sure he’s compensated fairly.”

  “He won’t take your money. I can guarantee that,” she said.

  “Then, tell him he’ll be helping to take a bad guy off the streets, and that the Burning Saints will owe him one.”

  “What are you thinking, Minus?” Cutter asked.

  “I’m thinking we can either solve this the way we used to, with brawn, and start a war with Los Psychos by killing Viper and his crew, or we can use our brains and find a way to end this before things get worse for everyone.”

  “I agree, but what’s data-mining gonna do for us at this point? The war has already started, hasn’t it? I mean, shots have been fired. Look at you!” Clutch exclaimed. “I’m the club’s Sargent and I’m saying it’s time to hit Los Psychos now; while they’re down.”

  “We don’t even know if they are down, Clutch! For all we know, they
’re playing possum; waiting for us to make a move before they attack. Los Psychos have been one step ahead of us the whole time and we still don’t know how.”

  Cutter and Clutch shared a heavy look.

  “What is it?” I asked, almost afraid to hear.

  “We didn’t want to tell you until you were feeling a little better,” Clutch said sheepishly.

  “Tell me what?” I said, growing irritated.

  “It was Grover, man. He was the mole. He’s been feeding information to Viper for over six months.”

  “No fuckin way,” I said. “Not Grover.”

  “It’s true, brother,” Cutter said. “He fell in with some of Viper’s crew at the Nine Ball and started working for them shortly after. We found bugs in my office, as well as on your new bike, and in your phone. That’s how they knew so much, and how they followed you to Savannah.”

  I felt sick. Next to Clutch, Grover had been my oldest friend and ally. We’d always had each other’s backs. For him to betray us like this was unimaginable.

  “Where is he now?” I asked.

  “We don’t know. He disappeared when we got word about what went down in Savannah, and we haven’t heard from him since.”

  “He’s sacred. He knows that he’s been made,” I said.

  “And that he’s a fuckin’ dead man when I see him,” Clutch spat out.

  “No,” I said.

  Clutch turned to Cutter. “We have to take them all out right now. Grover, Viper, his whole crew, and everyone that’s backing them. We must show everyone that we are still strong. We have to strike now.”

  “And I say no,” I ground out.

  Clutch looked sharply at me, then over to Cutter. I could see him study Cutter’s face for a reaction, but he made none. Cutter sat as still as a stone, saying nothing. Perhaps his silence spoke louder than anything he could have said. There was to be no verbal passing of the torch, no ceremony or pomp. This was the moment that I became the President of the Burning Saints Motorcycle Club. From within a hospital bed, I’d given my first order to my Sargent at Arms, and with that taken my place.

  “We can’t be that club anymore,” I said softly. “If we kill Grover, if we murder one of our own, we’re no better than Viper and Los Psychos. This is our line in the sand. This is where we decide what kind of club the Burning Saints is going to be from now on.”