by Davida Lynn
Captain turned from the window as the men poured inside. He trained the rifle with careful aim, firing rounds at the men coming through the trashed doorway.
Raven moved backward, grabbing extra magazines as she did. The Rising Sons began to come toward each other, firing on the group coming through the door. She turned to make sure there wasn't anyone coming through the kitchen. When she saw that it was clear, she focused all her attention on the front door. The flames were pushing the intruders away once they came through.
Bullets were hitting their targets, but the men weren’t going down. Kevlar, Raven realized. They had body armor. She saw Clyde still engaged in hand-to-hand combat. He finally knocked the man down and didn’t waste any time grabbing another attacker around the neck.
Pitt and Hoser had given up on the flames and opened fire. As the Rising Sons backed up toward the kitchen, they navigated around the second fire. Raven caught some shrapnel in her left arm. She looked to see how bad it was. Blood was running down her arm, but Raven didn’t think it would be bad.
Pitt, on the other hand, was bad.
He’d caught a bullet in the neck. Raven saw the blood shoot from the wound in a pulsing, arterial spray. His firing hand dropped in an instant, and Pitt’s eyes opened wide. He sank to the floor. The force against the Rising Sons was too strong and close for anyone to look after him.
It made Raven’s heart ache to keep moving backward and leave Pitt, but she knew they were all in grave danger. They began to funnel into the kitchen. Raven heard her brother through the chaos.
“Clear back here.”
Raven was the last one through the kitchen, except for Clyde. He was still fighting. Raven knew that he could handle himself, but she was afraid he’d be overpowered. She considered diving behind the bar and trying to flank them, but when she caught sight of the grenades in one man’s hand, she had no choice but to leave Clyde behind.
She turned and ran into the kitchen. “Everyone take cover!” she screamed, but the last word was swallowed up by the three explosions, one on top of the other. She felt the blast on her back, and it pushed her farther than she had anticipated.
Raven slammed headfirst into a stainless steel cabinet. Her ears rang as someone grabbed her by the arm and pulled her to her unsteady feet. She felt a throb on her forehead, and when blood dripped down into her eye, she realized what it was.
The arm pulled her toward the back of the bar and out the door. She stood there next to the dumpster as a cloud of hot dust followed her out and surrounded her from the waist down. She turned and realized that part of the building had collapsed. What was happening didn’t really hit her, and before it could, the hand grabbed her and pulled her away.
With one eye closed and her balance in shambles, Raven followed and focused all her energy on staying upright and moving away from the building. She saw flashes in front of her as Rising Sons fired their guns back toward the bar. She reached with her free hand behind her back, but couldn’t find the handgun there.
As her hearing came back at a crawl, she heard motorcycles in the distance and the sounds of gunfire ceased. “Are they gone?”
Someone spoke, but Raven couldn’t tell who. “Yeah. They all just peeled out after the explosion.”
She tried to look up and see their face. Dancing yellow light lit him up, but his identity wasn’t registering with Raven. She turned to see the source of light and saw that Los Bandoleros was spewing flames from one side. Her heart sank as low as it could go.
She had failed to protect the bar. The attack had come, like everyone knew it would, but it had been harder than anyone anticipated. Raven had expected handguns and shotguns, not Molotov cocktails and grenades. If it was a biker gang, they were well-connected and out of state.
Raven realized she was sitting on the banks of the dry river, looking back at the bar. She saw lights flashing in the distance and stood up. Her outlaw instinct had pulled her to her feet, but she realized it was the fire department coming from town. Highway 43 wasn’t exactly busy, but one passing motorist would be enough to call in a fire on the outskirts of town.
She looked around. Jenny and Tanner were farther up the embankment, and she was curled into his body as he held her. Captain was standing right next to her, his own head wound coating one side of his face in drying blood.
Hoser was lying flat on the ground. He had a belt cinched around his bad leg. Raven thought she saw another few wounds on him, but it was hard to tell. As the sirens got closer to the burning building, Raven realized those were the only people who had made it out of the bar.
When Trask pulled up, the fire department had the blaze all but extinguished. Smoke and steam rose, filling the air with the acrid scent of burnt plastic, wood, and chemicals. He pulled his Harley around to the back of the parking lot, past the damaged and burnt bikes of those who had fought. He saw Raven and the rest of the survivors and parked the Harley, helping Hope off the back.
Raven came down into the riverbank and met him in the middle. “Five. We lost five.” She looked down, feeling the weight of every single life. She had been in charge, and the events that led to those five deaths had been hers to dictate.
She couldn’t see any trace of emotion in Trask’s face. “And the other side?”
“Three, plus the one we have on the other side of the hill. He’s hurt, but he’s still conscious.” Her words and eyes were colder than Hell. The wound on Raven’s head had almost stopped bleeding, but she showed no signs of pain. She thought to herself that the physical pain would come later, but the emotional pain would last far longer.
Trask nodded. “Lead the way.”
Raven limped up the hill to where Hoser, Tanner, and Jenny were sitting. She walked past them to the spot where Captain had dragged one of the attackers. So far, he hadn’t given up any information. She was glad that Captain had thought far enough ahead to look for survivors. Her mind was on Clyde, Sam, Pitt, and Walburg. Trigger was the one who hurt her the most. She hadn’t even seen him during the fight. It had all happened so fast, and she just couldn’t keep track of him. Gunner’s blood brother was dead, and Raven ached for him.
Over the hill, Trask looked down at the man. He had a severe shoulder wound. His breathing was rapid, and he was drifting in and out of consciousness. When Trask put his heavy boot on the man’s gunshot wound, he snapped out of any hint of delirium.
“Fuck!” He tried to fight, but Trask held him down with no trouble. The man’s strength was all but gone.
“That pain will be the least of your worries if you don’t tell me who the fuck sent you. I’ll personally see that you heal, just so I can break you over and over. If you think I’m fucking with you… Hope?” Trask looked behind him. She came up. There was pain in her eyes as she saw the man on the ground, but she knew where her alliance was. “This beautiful thing is a doctor, and we will drag you to my house, and I will chain you in a basement while she gets you well enough to break.”
“Get fucked, dickspit.”
Trask dug his heel in harder. “Get talkin’, shitstain.”
Captain tossed Trask the guy’s wallet. “He ain’t too bright, I can tell you that much.”
Trask laughed. “You brought your wallet with you on a raid? What? Were you gonna hit the In and Out on your way back to…” Trask dug out the man’s I.D. “…Las Vegas?”
“Fuck off. Let me die in peace, asshole.”
“Erick Mendoza, twenty-seven years old, Las Vegas, Nevada. You wanna tell me what you’re doing five hours from home, Erick?” Trask stayed calm, but his veins were bulging. His heart was surging.
The man didn’t speak, even when Trask pushed into his shoulder.
“All right. I can admire loyalty, believe me. Tell you what I’m gonna do, though, Erick. I am gonna make sure you heal up nicely. Then I’m gonna let you go on your merry fuckin’ way.”
Raven had no idea what Trask’s plan was. She turned back to see the first police officers arriving. She wanted to say
something before they came to investigate. Captain must have seen them, too, because he headed downhill to intercept.
“You know what I’m gonna do, Erick?” Trask’s voice was dead calm. “I’m gonna have a ball. Get me some new clothes, eat some fine dinners, maybe even take a trip somewhere. Mexico. Now, I know that you don’t care much what I do, but it won’t be me doing it. It’ll be you. When word gets out that half of the Rising Sons’ money is gone, what do you think your boss is gonna think, huh, Erick? He’s gonna think you skipped out on him with a shitload of money.”
Trask dug into the wallet and pulled out a picture. “This your family, Erick? These your two little boys? Take a moment and think what he’ll do to your family when he puts the pieces together. Whether you’re alive or dead, they don’t stand a chance. You give me a name, though, and we’ll make sure that ambulance takes you wherever your heart desires.”
Raven watched the man. He was spitting up from the pain, but there was something in his eyes. He didn’t speak, which meant he was thinking. As he gasped for every breath, his hand gripping as hard as he could on Trask’s boot, Raven knew he would crack. Trask had hit him hard.
“Maldonado.” Erick said it like he had already been killed. There was pain, as well as loyalty in his voice. It killed him to say the name, and he knew it probably meant death by one hand or another.
“See? Not so hard, but I need a little more from you, Erick. How ‘bout you tell me about Maldonado? Tell me a bedtime story.” Trask’s voice got deeper, angrier.
“Carlos Maldonado. He just hired a bunch of bikers. I don’t even know this club. I don’t ride with no club, man. Twenty grand to ride and attack, that’s all I know. Jesus Christ, let me fuckin’ go.”
Trask let up on the shoulder. He knew he wouldn’t get any more information from the man. He dropped the wallet and cards down onto Erick’s body.
As Trask walked away, he said to Hope, “Thanks, babe. Why don’t you head to the bike and grab your kit? I think a few of these brave souls need some attention.”
“Sure thing. Come with me. We can get the two of you stitched back together.” She smiled at Raven and Hoser.
Trask smiled at her. “We’ll catch up.” The group watched Hope head back down into the dry riverbed and back up the other side.
When she was out of earshot, he leaned in toward Raven and the others. “Take care of him. Keep it quiet, keep it natural.”
Raven turned back to the wounded man. His eyes were closed, and his breath was even more labored than before. Facing Trask again, she nodded.
In the next few hours, every biker in the Rising Sons came to the bar. The news was out that they had lost Sam, Pitt, Trigger, Walburg, and Clyde. Some of the men were shedding tears without shame. Others were angrier than hell.
“Maldonado.” Cecil spit the word out. “I’m on the phone with my guys in Vegas. He’s a fuckin’ dead man.”
Clyde’s death was especially hard for the old-timers. Some of them had served long sentences together, and they had all been there more than twenty years. They had seen the club grow from a small organization to something that commanded respect throughout southern California. Cecil blamed everyone and everything for his friend’s death.
Raven caught most of Cecil’s anger. “How the fuck did this happen? This is on you, you dumb cunt. Your hands have five different brothers’ blood on them. Bear would skin you alive.” He got right in her face before turning in disgust. “Who the fuck put this dumb bitch in charge, anyway?”
“You did.” Trask stepped between the two of them. “Whether this would have happened under Gunner’s watch or not is irrelevant. You made your choice when no one stepped up. You were all fine to listen to Raven until shit hit the fan. Where the fuck were you, tonight, Cecil?”
The older man shoved Trask. “It wasn’t my goddamn night.”
Trask stayed calm. “Doesn’t matter. It’s your club as much as it was Clyde’s. Just because your name isn’t on some sheet of paper doesn’t mean you can’t suck it up and sleep on a cot. Raven’s been there every goddamn night.”
Cecil didn’t have any words for Trask, but he did for the rest of the bikers present. “I don’t know about you, but neither of these two piss-ants has my confidence. I say Gunner steps up, like he shoulda done the minute we found out Bear was down. Fuck, I mean, why do we have a system if we ain’t gonna follow it?”
Raven heard a resounding number of bikers agree with Cecil. Gunner’s face remained still as everything went down. She wondered why Trask had stepped up to bat for her and not the man she was sleeping with. It made her wonder if the rough relationship wasn’t beginning to smooth out at all.
“Cecil’s right. We got the rules, we oughta follow ‘em.” Boss got another somber cheer from the crowd. He looked at Raven with the hard eyes of a seasoned outlaw. “Hate to break it to you, princess, but you’ll never be the president of this here motorcycle club.”
She felt the lump in her throat. Raven fought harder than ever before to keep herself together. Boss and Cecil had hurt her, but they’d brought up valid points. It was the story of her life. She could take the harsh words, but only for so long. Eventually she just couldn’t be worn down and beaten any longer.
“Fine.” All eyes were on Raven. “I never asked to be in charge of this. I saw the need for a leader, and I stepped up. Sorry. Sorry for doing my part for the club, and my part for Bear. Sorry for doing my duty.” As they stood beside the steaming ruins of their bar. She turned and threw her hands up in futile failure. “Y’know, actually, no. I’m not sorry for any of it. All yours, Gunner.”
She swung her leg over her Harley, fired it up, and kicked up gravel as she peeled out of the parking lot. She ducked under some “fire scene” tape and took off toward town.
Raven hated crying. She thought it was weak. She blamed the chilly night air and the smoke for the tears running down her cheeks. She had to wipe her eyes the entire ride back to Bakersfield. It was a while before she realized that she had driven right through Bakersfield.
When she snapped out of the haze of emotion, Raven realized that she was headed back to Bear Valley. She was reliving the first raid with her brothers. She remembered her heart racing as she brought up the rear of the train of bikers. Raven had been trusted with an important job, and Bear had encouraged her when they got back to the bar.
To her, it felt like years, not just a few short months. She rode past her scouting point. The road made a gradual change from paved two-lane to a dirt road with room for only one vehicle. She passed the occasional small power station, finally coming to a rusted gate. One side had sagged down, beginning to sink into the red dirt. The other side was still horizontal. She rode to the right of the gate and down the road.
The single headlight shone on what looked like a scrapyard for the compulsive. It was one building with many add-ons and rooms jutting out, all thinly connected with tin sheets and plywood. From above it probably looked like a tree branch or root system with rooms stemming from the main trailer outwards.
She saw ruts where cars had parked, but the place had been empty for a while. Since the raid, she realized. She killed the engine, unnerved by the headlight dying along with the motor. Then she grabbed a small penlight from her saddle bag and walked toward the jumbled building.
The door was a heavy steel plate and half open. It had rusted into a solid piece of the building, but after some shoving with her good arm, she moved it enough to squeeze through. The smell of gasoline hit her hard. All the metal walls were rusted, and anything else was charred.
When she shined the small light down on the sagging remains of plywood floor, she saw spent bullet casings. The walls had holes in them, and she saw the first body just through the first entryway. It was almost unrecognizable. The entire place had been burned.
Raven realized what had happened leading up to the attack on Los Bandoleros just as the sound of the motorcycle reached her still-ringing ears.
