by Dez Burke
We were too young to be in the Steel Infidels. The bikers in the MC treated us like a joke whenever we were around them, which wasn’t often. That didn’t stop us from dreaming.
We’d sneak up the mountain with a six-pack of beer so we could sit and watch the crew work on their bikes in the parking lot of the clubhouse. We’d talk about what kind of Harleys we’d buy and the cool tattoos we’d get. What badasses we were going to be once we were two of the Steel Infidels’ chosen twelve.
We didn’t find out until much later that the MC knew what we were doing the whole time. Nothing got past them. Certainly not a couple of teenage wannabes hiding out on the mountain to play ‘I Spy.’ They played along with the game and sometimes even put on a little extra show in the parking lot for our benefit. Sam and I were the little kids in the Steel Infidels family, the brats. The crew patiently waited for us to grow up and take their place one day.
And now we have.
The brats are all grown up with a job to do.
“The smoke is starting to clear,” Sam says, breathing hard. “Damn! I don’t remember the hike being this fucking difficult when we were younger. I’m out of breath.” He leans against the side of a tree and bends over to try to breathe. He looks at me with concern. “You’re still dripping blood. Are you sure you’re okay? I can’t carry your big ass down off this mountain, so don’t even think about passing out on me.”
“We’re almost at the top. Keep going. Remember the rocks that we used to sit on where we could see the parking lot?”
“Sure,” Sam says. “Didn’t we hide a six-pack of beer up there years ago? Even a green beer would taste good about now. How long will beer keep outdoors? Ten years?” He pushes off from the tree and starts climbing again. “Okay, I’m good.”
We hike five more minutes and then we’re finally above the smoke line. The mountainside is as clear as ever. I take a deep breath of the fresh air. Sam is energized now and scrambles to reach the boulders first. He climbs up on the tallest one and stands to scan the area below us.
“Damn,” he says in a solemn voice. “It’s looks like fucking Armageddon from up here.” He points to the black cloud of smoke hanging over the clubhouse and the surrounding area. “Doomsday.”
I sit down beside him and use my shirt to wipe the blood from my face, neck, and arms.
“You’re all glittery and shiny,” Sam says. “Is that glass in your skin?”
“Yeah, it’s all over me. And in me.”
“Anything I can do to help? I can try to scrape it out with a credit card.”
I roll my eyes at him. It’s a good thing he’s not a medic. “No, thank you,” I say. “I’ll manage fine without your help.”
“Do you still think he’s on his way up?” he asks. “I would hate to think we walked all this way for nothing on a stupid hunch. They could use our help at the clubhouse.”
“We’ll know in a few minutes one way or the other,” I say. “Where’s your weapon?” I remove my gun from my leg holster and stand up again for a better vantage point.
Sam slides a gun out of his jacket pocket and holds it up for me to see.
“You watch that side and I’ll keep an eye out over here,” I say. “The second he clears the smoke, we need to act. If he sees us first, one of us is a goner.”
Sam holds up a finger. “One question,” he says. “Are we planning to haul this motherfucker back down the mountain with us alive and hand him over to the police or…?” He raises his eyebrows at me in an unspoken question.
“What do you think? Are you in the mood to be carrying an injured asshole back down the way we just came up? I know I’m not. If we take him alive, he’ll go to jail. Big fucking deal. He’ll become an even bigger hero to his freaky followers. They’ll carry on his work to avenge him. It will never stop. You know what Jesse always says. ‘Cut off the head of the snake and the body dies.’”
“Guess that settles it then. No argument from me on that point. So now we wait.”
Several minutes go by without any sign of the man. I’ve almost given up hope when I see movement down below us. The man is grabbing onto tree trunks to pull himself up the mountain the same way we did. He’s moving slow and steady. Every time he grabs a tree, the leaves shake on top. By watching the treetops, we’re able to pinpoint his location.
I motion to Sam and hold a finger to my lips for silence. The man will exit the tree line any minute now. When he does, he’ll be well within my target range.
I take a deep, steadying breath to calm my nerves.
I’m tired of all the killing.
I’m ready to start living.
The man staggers out of the woods, limping badly with a hurt leg. He’s cut up all over the same as I am from the explosion. It warms my heart to know that he feels pain in the last minutes of his life. I would love to make him feel more, to avenge everyone he hurt, but it wouldn’t serve any purpose.
Strength isn’t about destroying those you hate.
True strength is about building up the ones you love.
Life is about the living.
And loving.
I line up the shot and fire. He drops to the ground.
“Let’s go home,” I say to Sam, who’s watching me quietly. “It’s over.”
36
Maggie
Three weeks later…
“Are you getting bored with me now?” Toby asks me.
We’re on video chat where we can see each other as we talk over the phone. He chuckles, and I’m reminded again of how deeply I miss him when I hear his deep rumble. I trace his face lovingly on my phone screen with my fingertips. I wish I could reach out and touch him for real.
“How could I be bored of you when I never get to see you?” I ask. “I miss you more than you can imagine. I hate being apart from you.”
It’s been weeks since the shooting. In the first few days, Toby and I were together constantly. Between the shooting, the bike ride to the Smoky Mountains, and then the car bomb, it was as if our lives were on high-speed overdrive. Every minute was spent fighting to live another day.
After the car bomb, I refused to leave Toby’s side. He wouldn’t accept medical treatment until the last injured media personnel had been evacuated from the clubhouse several hours later. Even then, it was a battle to talk him into letting Kendra tend to his wounds and remove the glass deeply embedded into his skin.
I’ll never forget how terrified I was when he took off after the terrorist into the woods. The thought of losing Toby forever was something that I couldn’t let myself even begin to imagine. When he stumbled back into the clubhouse with Sam, bleeding and exhausted, but alive, I grabbed him in a bear hug and burst into tears of relief.
That night we clung to each other desperately until both of us finally fell asleep. There were no nightmares that night. Or so he said. There would never be any way to know for certain.
The next few days were a whirlwind of activity. The clubhouse was now the scene of a terrorist crime, so federal officials took it over and set up headquarters there while Flint legally fought to get it released back to the Steel Infidels.
Eventually the feds allowed the MC to begin cleanup around the building and to rebuild their security fence. We all pitched in and worked day and night to put things back the way they were the best we could. Everyone was eager to get back to normal as quickly as possible.
My station manager was understanding about my situation and the trauma I had been through up to a point, and then he gave me an ultimatum. Either I come back to my regular work, or start using up my sick days.
I reluctantly returned to Atlanta, back to my job and apartment. With both of our busy schedules, Toby and I haven’t seen each other since. Being apart from him is tearing me up inside.
“I can’t wait to see you this weekend,” I say. “I hope you’re planning to stay the night with me after the award dinner.”
“You bet I am,” Toby says. “If you’ll let me. My bed is cold and em
pty without you beside me.”
“Where is Sadie sleeping these days?”
“In the bed,” Toby admits with a laugh after a moment’s hesitation. “Don’t worry, we’ll change that when you’re around. Or try to. She can be stubborn.”
“I hope so. You take up an entire bed. I can’t imagine trying to sleep with a Golden Retriever on top of me, too.”
“Are you sure this award dinner is mandatory?” he asks. “I would rather order pizza and have a night in with you instead. Fancy dinners aren’t my thing.”
“Receiving a heroism award from the Atlanta Mayor is a big deal,” I say. “You’re a hero, and the city wants to thank you for stepping up to save lives.”
He goes quiet. “It doesn’t feel right though. I don’t like being the center of attention and receiving an award for being a hero when people are still in the hospital. Couldn’t they wait until summer or forget the whole thing entirely?”
“I understand how you feel. Keep in mind it’s election year. The Mayor is doing this as much for him as you.”
“Well, at least it gives me a good opportunity to see my girl,” Toby says. “I miss you.”
“Miss you too, babe. You have no idea how much. So we’re on for Friday night then?”
“I’ll be there right on time.”
37
Maggie
“What time will you be arriving at the county club tonight?” my sister Nicole asks me over the phone. “Brad was excited when I told him you snagged us extra tickets to join you at the Mayor’s table. Are Mom and Dad coming too?”
“Yes, they’ll be there,” I say. “You know Dad wouldn’t miss the chance to hobnob with the Atlanta Mayor. He mentioned a new development he’s working on that needs special zoning. I hope he doesn’t bore everyone with business talk all night.”
Nicole lets out a knowing laugh. “Well, it wouldn’t be dinner with Dad if he didn’t. When have you ever known him not to talk business at the table?”
“Never,” I say.
Our father is well-known in Atlanta’s social circles as a construction and real estate success story. He began his business with nothing as a young man by buying older homes, fixing them up, and selling them for a higher price. Eventually his business progressed into building large-scale shopping malls and apartment complexes scattered across the Atlanta area.
Now he’s a pillar of Atlanta society. My mother does her part by frequently volunteering as chairman for various social committees and charity fund-raisers. She puts in as many hours as he does without complaining. They’ve built a good life for themselves, and for my sister and me.
My dad brought us up to work hard and to never accept anything less than total success from ourselves. No excuses, Dad always told me.
When I chose to major in Communications in college instead of following Nicole’s path into the Science or Math field, my parents pouted for months. Dad was certain I would never be able to support myself doing something as frivolous as news reporting. To this day, he still brings it up every time we’re together. Always worrying about my job security. Nothing would make them happier than if I found a rich guy who Dad deems to be successful and worthy enough to be his son-in-law.
Like Nicole’s husband, Brad.
Dad was thrilled when Nicole married him. Brad was quite a catch, being a partner in one of the large accounting firms located downtown. Dad immediately found ways to involve him in the family business, first by sending him the firm’s CPA work then by asking him to join the Board of Directors.
Sometimes when I’m listening to one of Brad’s dull conversations that usually involve upcoming changes in the tax code, I wonder why my sister married him. She used to be lively and full of fun. Now she’s almost as bland and boring as he is.
No matter what, I’m not going to end up in the same situation.
Life is too short to settle.
“Will seven o’clock be too early to arrive?” Nicole asks. “Brad wants to work in a bit of networking during the cocktail hour.”
I roll my eyes, glad that Nicole can’t see me. Everything is business with my family. Tonight’s dinner is supposed to be about honoring Toby for saving people’s lives at the mall. Not an opportunity to wheel and deal.
“Seven will be fine,” I say. “We’ll see you then.”
“What do you mean by we?” Nicole asks, suddenly more interested in what I have to say. “Who is we? Are you bringing a date?”
I haven’t told my family yet that I’m seeing Toby personally. Somehow the time hasn’t seemed right.
“Toby, the guest of honor, is swinging by my apartment to pick me up,” I say. “I thought it might be easier for him if he arrived with someone he knew. The country club can be intimidating to newcomers.”
“Surely you’re not coming to dinner with the guy from the mall shooting?” Nicole sounds aghast at the thought. “Doesn’t he have a bunch of ugly tattoos and ride a motorcycle? Mom will throw a hissy fit. If you need a lift, we can pick you up on the way.”
“No, we’ve already planned to ride together,” I say. “And Toby is sitting at our table, so please be nice. For my sake. Don’t forget he saved my life and the lives of others. That’s the whole point of the dinner. It’s an award ceremony, remember?”
“I know,” she says. “I’m grateful to him. You’re the only little sister I have. It’s just that I’m sure this Toby fellow will be fine on his own. You shouldn’t feel obligated to ride with him. What does he drive anyway? A pickup truck? The valet parking guys will get a kick out of that.”
Here we go, just as expected.
I bite my lip to keep from going off on my sister. My goal is to just make it through the dinner tonight without any issues between everyone.
My sister’s superior attitude is already showing. I expected it, so it’s not a surprise. She’s never been one to be able to look past a man’s checking account to see what’s inside.
“He’s a good man,” I say. “You’ll like Toby.”
I’m not certain she will. Not that it matters to me what she thinks. I’m past the point in my life of asking for permission of who I can date.
“Are you sure I can’t talk you out of this?” she asks again. “Think about how it will reflect on Dad’s image in the community if you show up with a motorcycle gang member.”
“I don’t care,” I snap in frustration. “And Toby is not a gang member.”
Nicole is getting out of line and pushing the limits of my patience.
“Don’t get all snippy at me,” she says. “I’m trying to be helpful. At the very least tell me the guy is hot. There must be a good reason why you’ve taken him under your wing. You always were the type to bring home every stray animal you could find.”
Now she’s trying to placate me in her weird way.
“He’s a very attractive man,” I say. “If there’s one thing we can agree on, it will be that.”
“Now you’ve perked my interest,” she says. “I can’t wait to meet him since I haven’t seen you really into a guy in a long time. We’ll wait for you in the lobby.”
“See you then.”
38
Toby
I’m hoping Flint is at home and that I haven’t made the long trip to his mountaintop cabin for nothing. The drive is up a winding gravel road with steep drop-offs on both sides. I tried calling his cell phone and didn’t get an answer. Considering the reason for my unexpected visit, it might be better if I showed up in person rather than try to explain it over the phone anyway.
The loud muffler of my motorcycle gives my approach away a long time before I reach the cabin. Flint and Sam are both standing on the front porch, leaning on the wooden oak railing, waiting for me when I pull up in front.
In the summer, the big wrap-around porch is a popular spot. One of the first things Kendra did after they were married was to line the porch with old-timey, white rocking chairs. The Steel Infidels spend plenty of summer evenings there drinking whiskey and
trading wild tales of motorcycle club life.
“What’s up, Toby?” Flint asks when I climb off the bike. “Is something wrong? We heard the bike coming up the road. Come on in. Sam and I were having a beer.”
He opens the screen door and I follow him inside.
“What’s going on?” he asks. “You normally don’t drive all the way up here without calling first. Is everything alright? Sam, go get him a beer out of the fridge.”
I clear my throat and look at the floor, a little embarrassed to tell him why I’m here.
“You know that Mayor’s dinner that I’m supposed to be at tonight in Atlanta?” I ask.
“Yeah, what about it?” Flint asks with a frown. “You don’t want to go? It’s too late to back out now. They’re expecting you, and it will be good for the club’s image. Take one for the team, Toby. Suck it up, do it, and get it over with. It will only last a couple of hours and then you’ll be out of there.”
“No, it’s not that,” I say. “I was just wondering…what should I wear?”
Flint lets out a surprised laugh. “You’re asking me this now?” he says. “Hours before the dinner? Why didn’t you say something two days ago? What were you planning to wear? Haven’t you thought about this?”
“Nothing fancy,” I reply. “That’s not my style. Probably just jeans and a nice shirt. And my black boots. Then I started thinking that maybe I should put a little more effort into it.”
Thankfully, Flint isn’t the type of man to judge, and he doesn’t now.
“What changed your mind?” he asks.
“I’m taking Maggie, so I don’t want her to be embarrassed by how I’m dressed,” I tell him. “Her family is going to be sitting with us, so I’ll be meeting them for the first time too.”
