by Jessie Cooke
“It’s fucked up, man,” Zack said as soon as he walked up.
“I didn’t tell him yet,” Garrett said.
“Oh fuck, sorry, man.”
Chopper sighed. He loved these guys, but he was ready to shoot them both. “Will one of you please just tell me what’s up? Did this guy get away or what?”
“Yeah,” Garrett said, sending a poisonous surge of anger through Chopper’s body.
“The Vipers thought it best just to watch him and not let him know anyone was coming for him. They put one of their girls on him. She was supposed to party with him in her tent until we got here. But when we got here the party was rocking, the girl was passed out, and he was gone.
“Fuck! Do they know where he went?”
Zack and Garrett looked at each other and Zack lost his smile as he said, “They sent guys out after him…and they found your chopper. He was already gone.”
For a second, Chopper forgot how badly he wanted this guy. The words “They found your chopper” reverberated in his head. He actually smiled. “Well, that’s not horrible news, right?” Somehow, he knew there was something they were holding back, but he was trying to suppress that thought and concentrate on the good news.
“It was on fire.” Garrett stated, flatly. Chopper stared up at his face. He wished that Garrett were a liar…a terrible person who liked to make bad jokes. But he’d never known Garrett to do either. Suddenly, all the emotions in his body settled in his stomach, in one gigantic, acid-infused knot. His body wanted to reject it. The nausea was practically overwhelming, but no fucking way was he going to throw up in front of two of the toughest guys he’d ever known. Fuck!
“How bad?” he heard himself say.
“It’s gone, buddy,” Zack said. “I’m fucking sorry, man.”
Chopper was shaking his head. “It’s not your fault. Where’s the chopper?”
Garrett gestured with his big head and started walking away. Chopper and Zack followed him. Before they reached the far side of the campground Chopper could smell it, or at least he imagined that he could. Gas, oil, and the sickening smell of charred leather and metal. The chopper was sitting on the back of a trailer, attached to an old pickup and when he finally laid eyes on it, he went weak at the knees. It was a blackened knot of melted metal, chrome, and leather. Unsalvageable. The knot of acid in his belly moved up into his throat. He felt Zack’s hand on his shoulder and without Chopper’s even uttering a word, Zack said:
“Porta Potti to your left, man. We’ll be back at camp when you’re ready.” He felt Garrett pat his other shoulder and then he heard them retreating. He continued to stare at the mess on top of the trailer and the more he remembered all the time, money, and love he’d put into it, the sicker he felt. He bypassed the Porta Potti that Zack had been so kind to point out to him, and grabbed onto the trunk of a huge shade tree. Gripping onto the rough bark as tightly as he could, he doubled over and emptied his stomach. The process of purging the disgusting black knot that had formed there took some time. When he could finally stand up and walk again, he used the outdoor sink to clean himself up and rinse his mouth. With one last, painful look at the chopper he took out his phone, and he called Chelsea.
“Hey,” she answered in a sleepy voice.
“Oh, damn! I’m sorry. I forgot how early it was.” He wasn’t even sure how many hours he’d been up, but it was flowing into two days at least.
“Don’t be sorry,” she said, sweetly. “I’m glad you called. I’ve been thinking about you but didn’t want to bother you. Did you find your bike?”
“He burned it.”
“What?” She sounded wide awake then. “Oh my god, Chopper, I’m so sorry. Is it…I mean can you fix it?”
“No. It’s scrap metal now.”
“Oh, fuck. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s not your fault. I’m sorry I called and woke you up. I just needed to…” He paused, and she said:
“Vent, and it’s okay.”
“No…I mean, yeah, I do need to vent, I guess. But what I really needed was to hear the sound of your voice. I miss you already.”
“I miss you too. I wish I could be there for you. Chopper…did you find the guy too?”
“Not yet. He took off and dumped the bike in a gully, set it on fire, and somehow took off again. Garrett and Zack think he might have someone helping him.”
“Damn it! I guess he just proved he only stole the bike for revenge, which proves this is all my fault. I’m so damned sorry.”
“Please stop saying that. I felt sick before I called you. The sound of your voice makes me feel better. I’ll find this guy and before I…I mean when I do, I’ll find out what it is he wants with you, and who he’s working with or for, okay?”
“Okay,” she said. “Is there anything I can do for you in the meantime?”
“No. I wish you were here.”
“I wish I was too,” she said.
“Do you have to work today?”
“No, not until Tuesday. You can call me anytime if you need to talk, okay?”
“Yeah…thank you, Chelsea.”
“I’m—”
“Don’t! Please don’t say you’re sorry or this is your fault again.”
“Okay, but I am sorry that you feel so bad.”
“Thanks. I want to get my hands on this guy, Chelsea, so bad.” He almost whispered the last part of the sentence. Chelsea was quiet for several minutes and then she said:
“Chopper, what do you plan on doing when you find this guy?”
He thought about her question. He still didn’t know for sure, and even if he did, he wasn’t sure he wanted to tell Chelsea. “I don’t know” was what he finally said. “I’m so pissed off, Chelsea. This piece of shit deserves a bullet in his head.”
“And then what, Chopper?”
“What do you mean, then what?”
“I know this isn’t my business…”
“It’s okay. Say what’s on your mind.”
“I’m just not sure this guy is worth it. You’re a good man, Chopper. I just hate the thought of you suffering for the rest of your life because you basically stepped on a cockroach. But like I said, it’s not my business. I’m sorry. Please just be safe.”
“I will,” he said, unable to promise her that he wasn’t going to do something that might just affect the rest of his life. He knew she was right, that this guy was scum and wouldn’t be worth doing time over. But he’d never been this angry with anyone before. He’d never actually been able to picture himself killing anyone. With this guy, he could see it clearly. “You be safe, okay? Your parents are there with you, right?”
“I’m safe,” she said. “Call me later if you need to.”
It was only after he ended the call that he realized she hadn’t said her parents were there, just that she was safe. He started to call her back when he heard Zack calling out to him. “We’ve got a bike for you if you’re ready to saddle up.”
“I’m ready,” Chopper said. He knew this guy could be anywhere by now, but the fact that he’d stolen his bike and then stopped at a place where he knew it would be recognized right before he set it on fire told Chopper that the POS was in the mood to play games. Games that Chopper planned on making sure the asshole didn’t win.
14
Chelsea loved her parents’ home…her own childhood home. It gave her a sense of peace whenever she was there. It sat on top of a little hill, almost blending in with its surroundings. The walls were made from stones that her father helped collect and cement together himself. The windows were big, and plentiful. Chelsea’s mother loved the sunshine and she wanted it to permeate every room of the house. From the inside you could look out at the little ranch, the barn where the horses lived, and the pasture where the cattle and sheep grazed, and you could feel like you were a million miles away from the big city, when in reality it was only a short drive away.
The inside was the best, however. The first thing you’d smell when you walked in
the door, always, was the scent of lavender. Her mother didn’t spray it out of a can or pour it out of a bottle. She grew it herself in old Mason jars and they sat all around the house. Something about that smell seemed to bring out the light purple hues in the walls, and no matter where Chelsea was when she smelled it, it always brought her home in her head and her heart. The stone fireplace was the centerpiece of the living area. Her dad had built it so that the fire burned just as brightly in both the living room and the dining room. The furniture was clean and comfortable, but not modern or new in any sense. It was just cozy, and her mother’s house was what Chelsea dreamed of having for her own one day. Sometimes that dream felt unobtainable, but she pushed on anyway because it wasn’t just her own future that she was working towards.
After Chopper and Tigger dropped her off the day before, she had dismissed the caretaker and she’d taken over the job of feeding the livestock herself. It was a chore she often took care of as a kid and she didn’t realize just how much she missed it until the moment she was back in her boots and jeans, shoveling hay into the horses’ stalls. By the time she took care of all the work outside, she went inside and was greeted by her mother’s cat Spencer, and his unlikely sidekick, Dad’s dog, an old, retired cow dog named Bella. Spencer was the dominant one even though Bella had him by about fifty pounds. Bella waited, patiently wagging her tail while Spencer got his ears scratched, and then Chelsea gave Bella the love that she was looking for and went into the kitchen with them both trailing behind. Once there, she made sure they both had food and water, and seeing that the caretaker had already handled that, she gave them each a treat.
Chelsea fixed herself a plate of leftovers she found in the refrigerator, delighting in the smells of her mother’s home cooking as it heated, and then she took her plate into the living room and sat on the couch with Spencer at her elbow and Bella at her feet. Chaos might reign outside of the house, but when she was there, she was truly content. She finished her meal and then sat the plate down and let Spencer and Bella lick it clean while she went down the hall toward her old bedroom. It was completely different now. Back when her mother had given up hope that Chelsea would ever come home, she’d completely redecorated it. She turned it into what she now called a “guest room.” Every time Chelsea came to stay, and she heard her mother tell her father to put her things in the “guest room,” she wanted to cry. She knew it was her fault, and her mother was trying. They’d come so far over the past few years. But there would always be a residual sadness in her heart for what they missed.
She unpacked her suitcase, and by that time Bella was doing her little pee-pee dance by the back door. Chelsea opened it and Bella took off at a dead run. Spencer looked over from his perch on the counter and yawned. Chelsea smiled and shook her head at him and then shooed him off the counter before stepping outside after Bella. She could see her out near the barn, doing her business. Chelsea sat down on the back porch, leaned into the door, and looked up at the sky. The night was bright thanks to the sky being filled with stars and an almost full moon. She stared at the moon and smiled. When she was little she remembered her dad used to always tell her that when she was out at night, the moon watched her and then told him everything later that night. As a teenager, even though she knew it wasn’t true, she still couldn’t bring herself to do anything bad within sight of the moon. She thought about Chopper and wondered how things were going in Iowa. She was tempted to call or text him, but she told herself to wait. He’d probably just arrived, and she was sure he had more important things to do.
So, when she woke up to the sound of her ringing phone and she realized it was him, sleepy or not, it put a smile on her face. The smile stayed put until she heard the catch in his voice. When he told her that his chopper had been burned she’d wanted to cry for him. She’d only known him a short time, but she already knew how much he’d loved his bike. He’d built it with his own hands, and that was almost like giving birth. Chelsea could understand loving something that you had put that much of yourself into. She could also understand having it taken away.
After the heart-wrenching conversation with Chopper, she wasn’t going to be able to go back to sleep. She got up and dressed and went out to feed the livestock. Bella was at her heels, Spencer was still curled all warm and cozy in his own bed. Chelsea walked into the barn to the whinny of the three horses. She smiled and went over to the big black stallion in the first stall. He was the king of the ranch and when she was six years old, she had named him Titan. Titan was old now—just about twenty-one. He was her dad’s horse, but he and Chelsea always had a close bond. When she was using, and making one bad choice after the other, she’d sneak onto the ranch some nights when she knew her parents were sleeping, and she’d sit and talk to Titan for hours. He was the only one she could tell her troubles to that wouldn’t judge or lose respect for her.
“Hey, old man, how long has it been since Dad took you for a ride?” Her dad didn’t ride as much as he used to. When she was growing up, he used to ride three or four days a week, and Titan loved it. She was sure, even though he was old, that he would appreciate going for a ride, even if it was a short one. “If it’s okay with Dad, maybe we’ll take you out for a ride when they get back.” Titan whinnied loudly, and she took that as acquiescence, or maybe he was just hungry. She ran her hand along the side of his face and he nuzzled her before she finally picked up the fork and shoveled in a flake of hay.
After feeding Titan, she fed Didi and George. Didi was her mother’s horse, and she was no youngster either. Her mother’s horse had died when Chelsea was about eleven and Dad had surprised her mom with Didi for her next birthday. Didi loved Chelsea’s mother, but she didn’t like anyone else. Not even Chelsea’s dad could ride her without getting thrown off on his ass. Her dad occasionally went on a rant and threatened to sell her, but Chelsea knew he never would. Her mother loved her, and Dad loved no one the way he loved her mother. She smiled at the thought of them. After almost forty years of marriage and raising two kids, they still held hands and kissed each other every chance they got. It was what she’d always wanted, but was beginning to believe she would never have.
George was the newest horse in the family. He was only two years old, and he was a gentle soul. Chelsea’s dad bought him for the kids because he said Titan was too old and Didi too young. She spent some time petting and nuzzling George before feeding him and moving out to where the cattle were kept. The morning was crisp and there was still dew on the ground, but the sun was bright overhead and the sky was clear. It was going to be a beautiful day and her family should be home soon. Chelsea missed Chopper and she was worried about him, but not even that could put a damper on how happy she felt to be there.
After she finished feeding the cattle, she realized Bella was gone. Figuring she’d just gone back up to the house without her, she headed back in that direction. Once she passed the barn and could see the house clearly, she saw that Bella was still nowhere in sight. It wasn’t until she’d nearly reached the back door that she heard the barking and snarling coming from out front. Bella was a gentle, loving family dog and the only things that made her that agitated were wild animals or strangers. Chelsea started to sneak around the side of the house, but Bella’s growls got deeper and wilder and she suddenly thought about her father’s guns. She darted to the back door and as she went inside, she locked it behind her. She didn’t stop to look out the window, she went straight to her parents’ room, and praying her father hadn’t changed the code, she pressed in the numbers to open the gun safe. When it clicked, she breathed a sigh of relief. She could not only still hear Bella, but she thought she also heard voices. Men’s voices. She reached into the safe and took out the shotgun in the center and then she reached up to the shelf on top and grabbed two shells. She loaded them into the gun on her way back to the living room and this time she went over to one of the windows and peeked out underneath the curtains.
A white van with tinted windows was sitting in the drivew
ay. The side door had been opened a crack and there was a leg, kicking out at Bella. A man’s leg. He was wearing gray slacks and fancy-looking black shoes with tassels on them. Each time he kicked out at Bella, she snapped at those tassels. Chelsea hoped the shoes cost him five hundred dollars, and she hoped that Bella got a good bite out of them. She went over to the front door, cocked the gun, and pulled the door open. “Bella! Come here, baby!” Bella looked over her shoulder at Chelsea. She had slobber all over her lips from the wild barking. “Come on, girl, come here!” Bella gave the van one last look and snapped at the foot one last time before finally turning and racing toward Chelsea. Chelsea waited until the dog was at her side before leveling the gun, resting it on her shoulder, and aiming it at the door of the van. At the same time, the door was slid open and Bella started barking again.
“Thanks for calling her off,” a man’s voice said before his entire body emerged. “I thought she was gonna have me for lunch.” From the look on his face, Chelsea could see that the man realized as soon as he stepped out of the van that the dog may have been easier to contend with. He threw his hands up and the gold Rolex on his wrist caught the sun and almost blinded her. She squinted and kept her eye on the target, the way her father taught her when she was only twelve years old.
“Who are you and what do you want?” she asked.
“You mind lowering that gun?”
“As soon as you tell me what your business is here.”
“Dang, I thought this only happened on farms down south and in West Virginia,” he said with a chuckle.
“You thought wrong,” she said. “Now who the hell are you?” He reached toward his jacket and she said, “No! Keep those hands up.”
