by Jackson Kane
I startled, feeling Todd’s hand wrap around my arm and yank me back behind the store. I whirled around with a clenched fist, not exactly sure what to expect from him since I made my feelings about him crystal clear.
“Oh, man. This ain’t good!” Fear had drained the man of all his color.
I immediately knew I had nothing to worry about. Well, nothing to worry about from him at least. He peeked around the corner at the bikers.
The concern plastered across his face was disconcerting.
“What’s wrong, Tin Soldier?” After all, he was supposed to be this tough Army guy, and here he was pissing himself. I couldn’t help but rib him a little.
The look he shot me was all daggers. I loved it! “You afraid of real men?” I pushed harder, and to my surprise, he actually reared back to slap me, but stopped himself.
“Shut your fucking mouth!”
Wow, I honestly didn’t think he had it in him. He was a mess and a shitty person, but I never pegged him as a man who’d hit women. He began to say something else but couldn’t find the words. He then stormed off to his truck.
When Todd came back, he had a gun in his hand.
“Whoa, what the fuck, Todd?” I hissed, backing away. This was way too far! What was he planning to do with that?
“Do ya have any idea who the fuck that is?” He snarled at me, keeping his voice down. He was obviously still terrified. “It’s the Steel Veins MC. I think it’s a robbery!”
“The Steel what? Are you talking about those bikers?” I scoffed. My aunt and uncle weren’t exactly the Rockefellers. What could these guys possibly take from them? Their invaluable stack of old tires? “Who would want to rob this place?”
“Your uncle probably owes them money,” Todd mumbled.
“What? That’s crazy!”
Although, now that he said that, I remembered seeing a pair of bikers with that same symbol come by and talk to him the end of last month. Uncle wasn’t too pleased with the conversation, not that he’d felt the need to fill me in on the details.
“Yeah, they’re roughing him up,” Todd said, shaking his head slightly. His brows furrowed and his eyes became more focused. Even Todd’s breathing patterns changed. It was as if he was building up his courage for something.
“Roughing him up…” My words drifted off as real worry started setting in. Like hitting him?
That couldn’t be right.
I wasn’t able to hear anything besides a small army of engines idling. I needed to see what was going on with my own eyes, so I pulled Todd to the side and leaned around the corner.
It was horrible!
Beneath the wall of leather and boots, I saw Uncle curled up in a fetal position, bloody and screaming.
Aunt Gina had waddled out to them faster than I’d ever seen her move. It was like watching a monstrous water balloon rolling over uneven gravel. She pleaded for them to stop but was backhanded off her feet for the effort. Seeing her hit the ground so hard made me worried she might pop.
The man who’d hit her was a giant and obviously in charge. He was bald above the eyebrows, but with a full beard hanging from his chin to his belly button. And he was angry. If a mean, biker version of Santa existed, then I was looking at him.
My aunt and uncle were petty and annoying, but they didn’t deserve this! Especially, not Uncle. He was an idiot, but after he had a few cups of coffee, he wasn’t that bad.
I’d heard about things like this happening on the news and seen it on TV shows, but never in person. To watch it actually happen to someone you know… my weakness forced me to look away.
And that’s when I saw him.
In the back of the pack, casually resting on his bike and smoking a cigarette, was a man who embodied disinterest and disdain. He had the look of a man who was only there because he had to be. He appeared so out of place that it felt like someone changed the channel on me. One minute it was a documentary on “The Horrors of Gang Warfare” and then next it was, “High Plains Drifter.”
He had shaggy, mid length, rusty-brown hair and the dark eyes of Jason Momoa. He also wore a light beard that was less hipster and more criminal. He wore the apparently obligatory black vest with patches, but over a dusty-grey, button-up collared shirt that was open enough to reveal a light shock of chest hair on road-weathered skin. His thick, faded jeans covered the top of battered, metal-armored, black leather boots.
My heart raced a little faster as I watched him. “Jason” was thin but muscular and even from that distance, I could tell he was darkly handsome.
I had to look completely away this time. How could I find anyone attractive at a time like this! It was terrible! I was such a shitty person...I had to close my eyes. I just wanted to not exist. With all the noise, I couldn’t keep them closed for long, and when they did open... I almost had a heart attack, fell over, and died right there.
“Jason” was looking right at me.
I froze. My breath turned to sand in my lungs. I couldn’t get my body to do anything but stare at him. I became a living statue.
He regarded me curiously and smiled more to himself than to me, I think.
I didn’t know how much time passed while we just looked at one another, but without breaking eye contact or alerting anyone else, he pressed one finger to his lips. Quiet.
I swallowed, nodding. Had I been able to remove my mouth and throw it away, I would have.
There was a click behind me. Todd had loaded his pistol and leaned around the corner before I could stop him. He’d finally built up enough courage to act. What that action would be was anyone’s guess.
“Jason” immediately saw Todd, and his expression darkened into a disappointed frown. He slapped the biker’s shoulder next to him, held up three fingers, and pointed to us.
Without a word exchanged, three men took off running.
“Fuck! Hide!” Todd blurted in a mad panic at being confronted. His cowardice immediately broke through whatever resolve he’d mustered because he shoved me behind a flimsy stack of pallets in his dash to get to his truck.
I grabbed one of the tires and blocked off the gap between the back wall of the building and the pallet stack, then slid down behind it,
Oh God, would this be enough?
I needed to call the cops, but my cell phone was inside. Who was I kidding? I didn’t have reception here. Most of the time, it was turned off in my room.
I hate Oklahoma.
I was pretty sure Todd just bailed on me, the spineless fuck. But he didn’t have the chance. The first three shots were blocked by the pallets so I couldn’t actually see them. But fuck! They were loud!
I cupped a hand over my mouth to muffle a scream that refused to stop. Was Todd really shooting at them? Was he insane? There were twenty guys out there
“Yeah! Take that, you faggot biker fucks! I got enough for ya’ll,” Todd taunted desperately, trying to steady the shakiness from his voice. When he backed up, I could see Todd clearly through the cracks in my pallet wall. With upturned eyebrows and sweat streaming down his face in rivulets, it was easy to see that his confidence wavered on a knife’s edge. The second his bravado was tested, he would crumble.
And where did that leave me?
“I’m a goddamn war-hero, bitch.” Todd postured and spouted off at the mouth like he was in a rap video. “You think I’m afraid of y—”
First, it was the rapid, heavy footsteps crunching on gravel, then the whistle, and finally the right cross that killed Todd’s blaze of glory. Todd was dropped like a sack of rice, his gun clattering across the ground.
“Jason” stood right on the other side of my pallet wall. I saw him as clear as the creeping sunset that nearly silhouetted him. His sleeves were rolled up to show off his corded, steel forearms and scarred rough hands.
“Jason” thumbed the hammer of a large revolver from the resting to the firing position then back again as he looked down at the pathetic, sniveling creature. The biker’s mouth hung partially agape, his
own face twisted in grief and disbelief at what just happened. Eyes welling with tears, he drew in a ragged breath and hung his head.
Jesus, what the hell just happened? I couldn’t see who Todd was shooting at from my little hidey-hole.
“Oh, fuck, Remy…” another biker choked out the words. “I think Bren’s dead.”
Remy? That was “Jason’s” actual name?
“I–I didn’t mean to—” Todd stammered, openly crying. Todd raised his hands defensively, horror splayed across his features as he realized just how bad he had fucked up.
“Yeah,” was the only word out of Remy’s mouth as he raised his head and snapped a hateful glare at Todd. Sadness was deeply set into the wrinkles on Remy’s face, but it paled in comparison to the rage that flared in the man’s eyes.
Remy raised his gun hand without a breath of hesitation and turned Todd’s head into so much wet confetti.
I had just watched a man I knew die.
Clasping my hand back over my mouth, I fought down the swell of acidic vomit that spewed up to my throat. It was the single most horrible thing I’d ever seen in my entire life, but I still couldn’t tear my gaze away from the handsome monster that killed Todd.
“Crutch?” Remy asked, his body sagging a bit as he ran a hand over his face. His thick brown eyebrows slightly shifted upwards, and the lines in his frown deepened. Remy’s breath came in ragged, measured puffs as he pushed down a growing mournfulness.
“I’m okay.” The words were strained. The man sounded like he was in rough shape.
“It’s always fucking Crutch. Heh?” Another biker gruffly added. “What’d your mom feed you when you was a kid? Magnets?”
“Watch your fucking mouth! Have some fucking respect.” I heard someone punch someone else in reply.
My gaze was still numbly transfixed on Remy.
“Fuck, Tee! That hurt. Nah, shit—I’m sorry, Remy. Bren—Bren was a real good…”
Who was Bren?
Remy peered off in the distance. His head was so far away that I doubt he heard the other bikers at all. He wiped his eyes and nose with his arm, swallowed then finally turned back to the other men. “Tee, help Crutch back to his bike and see if Twatch can patch him up enough to…ride.” Remy’s voice cracked at first, but he coughed, took a breath, then pushed through, “Dollar, you string that piece of shit to the back of my bike. I want to litter the road with his fucking corpse.”
The edge that crept into his voice made me shiver all over.
“What about Bren?” Tee asked.
“I’ll bring him to Top. He’ll want to be the one to take him to Muse’s Place. Hoze, Black Nicky – tear this fucking place apart. I don’t want any more surprises tonight.”
“You got it, Rem,” Black Nicky replied.
Remy’s eyes flashed past me as he turned, then, for a brief moment, flicked back. He saw right through my hiding place. Saw right through me.
I was in shock, stinging tears streamed down my face. Again, I couldn’t breathe. Instead, I had bitten my bottom lip until it bled.
“Back’s clear. Start around the side.” Remy lifted his gaze and walked forward like I didn’t exist. When he disappeared behind me, presumably to pick up Bren’s body, I was able to finally take in air. He definitely saw me…
Why didn’t he say anything?
“Well, well, well. What do we got here? Good thing I doubled-back.” My flimsy pallet shelter toppled as the man Remy called Hose leaned a shoulder into it. His greasy hands grabbed me.
I screamed, thrashing in the struggle until my head bounced off the back of the building. Stars burned across my blurry vision as I was dragged out through the splintered, wooden debris of my makeshift shelter. It was a miracle that my glasses stayed on.
“You see my boy here kill your boyfriend?” Hose glared down at me. It was more of an accusation than a question.
I tried to say no, but nothing came out.
“Speak up, bitch! I ain’t got all night.” He pulled out his gun and leaned in so close that the chewing tobacco he had in his lower lip spattered my face when he talked.
“Fuck you.” I was as surprised as him when those words quietly escaped my mouth.
Where did that come from?
Despite knowing how badly this was probably going to go, I honestly didn’t think I had that kind of defiance in me. I always shied away from conflict, and here I was cussing out a biker? Was this what I was really like at the end of my rope?
“This cunt’s got a mouth on her. Oh, how I wish I had the time...” Hose dragged me to my knees and pushed my face hard into the crotch of his pants. I felt the heat through the denim as he dragged my face back and forth. Then I felt the barrel of the gun pressed against the side of my head.
“Let her up!” Remy’s voice boomed.
“You’re fuckin’ with me, right? She saw you, man!” Hose argued, but Remy only narrowed his eyes. The subordinate sighed in resignation. “Awright-awright-awright...”
“You wanna die on your knees?” Remy turned his attention to me.
“No.”
“Then stand up!”
I stood up. I didn’t want to die at all!
God, I hoped that was still an option.
Bren’s body was propped over Remy’s shoulder with careful ease bordering on reverence. Although he wasn’t bulky for his height, he was solid and surprisingly strong.
There was some renewed shouting out front, followed by two gunshots.
“Shit, Rem! Looks like Top got the news.” Black Nicky propped his hands on his hips and shook his head.
Remy looked past the other biker to the men by the pump, then back out into the distance. The muted sadness on Remy’s face deepened into a contemplative haze. He squinted directly into the last few rays of the dying sun as if he could burn the lingering memories of what had happened from his mind.
“Did they kill my aunt and uncle?” The dry, cracked words fell from my quivering lips. I could barely see through my tired, red eyes. How long had I been quietly sobbing?
None of the other bikers would look me in the eyes except Remy. He held my gaze but said nothing.
I slapped him.
I couldn’t believe I’d just done that, but I was proud of myself for not recoiling in fear. I was too scared shitless to be some kind of badass. Where was all this defiance coming from?
“Tonight wasn’t supposed to go down like this. We both got dealt a shit hand.” Remy let out a long, low exhale, flicking his mournful gaze back at me.
“Monster,” I spat the word through renewed tears. Todd, Aunty and Uncle… I might not have liked them, but they didn’t deserve to die. I stared hard into Remy’s stoic, dark eyes and found myself trying to slap him again.
This time, he’d easily caught my hand. “You got two choices. Make a break for it right now and get shot in the back or walk back to Top and the rest of the guys with me. I don’t know which is the mercy.”
“Which would you chose?” I asked.
“I’d have run.” Remy’s lips pushed into a thin white line as he brushed past me. “Bring her.”
Hose grabbed me and dragged me behind him. When we passed the side window, I could see the fire spreading quickly through the small store. The heat forced my already irritated eyes into slivers. I saw my textbooks on the counter next to the ransacked cash registers.
They burned.
Leaning or sitting on their bikes, the remainder of the Steel Veins waited for us. Twenty sets of hungry eyes stared at me like I was a choice cut of steak. They either wanted to cut me up for what happened to their friend or eat me.
I’m sure many wanted both.
It was dark enough that the front parking lot and gas pumps were awash in the brilliant, yellow-orange light from the fire. It gave everything a hellish hue. Had I already died?
Was one of them the Devil?
The Devil would ride a Harley, wouldn’t he…?
I didn’t actually know if they were all Harleys
. I realized that aside from the few bikes that came in for a fill-up, I’d never even touched a motorcycle. For the most part, all their bikes looked the same – big headlights, teardrop gas tanks, fat tires, and almost fully-exposed engines. The exception was the bike I saw Remy on earlier. That one looked Japanese, maybe?
My distraction was cut short when I saw both bodies. I felt horrible, but oddly, this time I didn’t cry. The whole thing felt real in a way and completely fake at the same time. I mean, I knew it was real. This was way too dark for one of those prank-based reality shows.
I never got to know my aunt and uncle, really. Looking at them lying on the ground, I found myself feeling bad about feeling bad. It was almost like I didn’t have the right to grieve over these people. I’d been up here a few months for school, but before that, I’d only seen them at weddings and once for a funeral. In my twenty-one years on this planet, I might have seen my aunt and uncle five times at most.
Originally, I was going to stay local and go to the college I’d started, but after my scandal with Professor Baker, my parents were far too eager to send me away. I really couldn’t blame them. Jonathan’s wife was very vocal and made our lives hell. The college out here wasn’t my first choice, but the legal fees from my indiscretion were stacking up and for everyone’s sake, I needed to get away. So to save money, my dad asked his sister if I could take their spare room. My aunt agreed, and here I was.
Now they were dead, I didn’t fully know how to feel about it.
Everyone wearing a bandanna removed it as Remy gently placed Bren across the gas tank on the lead motorcycle.
Top, the bearded behemoth who’d slapped my aunt earlier, was openly weeping. He grabbed Remy in a giant bear hug. Remy wasn’t a small man, probably five-foot-ten, maybe a hundred and seventy or eighty pounds, but in Top’s embrace, he looked like a little boy.
Remy patted him a few times on the back then began to tie Bren’s arms and legs up, securing him to the bike. For a cold-blooded murderer, he looked so solemn. Bren must’ve meant something to him as well because he couldn’t be that deathly serious all the time, could he?
“Why’s this dead bitch standing in front of me?” When Top spoke in that tone, everyone stopped and listened, but no one answered. I bet most of them, including myself, were wondering the same question.
