Fractured MC

by Bella Knight

  Henry stood on the ridge. The Wolfpack were all over the place on jobs, except for Little Nico and Tam, who were helping Gregory with his bike.

  David came behind him, and kissed his neck. Henry smiled. "The kids are doing well."

  "Where are we going to put Damia?" asked David, holding Henry in his arms.

  "She just can't be around her sisters," agreed Henry. "We can deny the reality, or we can see the truth --and do something about it."

  "She needs quiet. Inola says she wants the barn. We can kick Alo out, but that's not fair to him. His feed business is doing great. Robert is helping out with the angora rabbits, and it gives Inola a break. We need to..."

  "Add on. Again," said Henry. David slapped his hand over his face. "We can't ignore reality," said Henry, throwing his lover's words back in his face.

  "Tito is going to kill us," said David.

  "Add on storage for Alo's business underneath, make him pay us a little rent for it," said Henry. "Make the money back."

  "In ten years," said David.

  "No, that boy is making serious money. He'll bless us. Also, Damia started her first soap carving." Henry was so proud he could burst. "And, she made those leaf plates."

  "If Suni stays, she'll want a kiln," said David.

  Henry put his face in his hands again, making David laugh. "Can't deny reality," he said.

  "At least Robert, Alo, and Suni all pay rent," said David. "The Owl Pack pays rent, too."

  "So, we're landlords," said Henry.

  "Keeps hordes of teens, in jeans and socks and..." said David.

  "Underwear," both men said together. "Didn't know that would be a major thing," said Henry.

  "If we didn't grow our own food," said David.

  "We'd be up shit creek without a paddle," finished Henry.

  "We need more businesses," said David.

  Henry snorted. "On our property alone, we've got a hydroponics farm, a horse and pony rescue that just about breaks even, which is shocking with vet bills being what they are. Then, a sacred beader, a company that makes books for Native people to preserve our languages, a motorcycle builder, a fetish maker, a Zuni potter..."

  David kissed his neck. "Our own, love. The individual people and the groups in our house nearly pay for themselves. Even the Wolfpack starts work the first day the next Pack arrives. And they pay rent and food and buy their own clothes and things. The Owl Pack has so many businesses that I'm getting a little confused keeping up with them. They've already paid off the pool and the greenhouse extension (to put it in) And they even pay their own trainer. So, what do we do?"

  Henry stroked David's hands. "We need to be more than landlords." He nodded, once, twice. "We do. Well then, what shall we do, love? You're still a powerful medicine man. You do sweats and sing for many people."

  "I have apprentices. And, yes, that is true, but that's not a business. It's a calling. Keeps me in chickens for the table," he laughed. "Actually, got some fine stones for the rock tumbler I got for the beadwork, and we never do our own fences. I think Suni will stay. Lots of res people making very good businesses."

  "You underestimate yourself once again," said Henry. "David, do you have any idea how many jobs have been done here, and how much trade for things we don't make? We don't need to use dollars, love. We've got quite the trade. Leatherwork, blankets, cheeses, stones, rugs, tables, chairs, wood for the pods, fence builders, hands for when we raise a barn, or move a house. David, we are all richer because of what you do."

  David was silent a long while. "I do know. I did not know how much you knew, until just now."

  They stood there, tears in their eyes, for a long while. "I still need to be more than a landlord," said Henry. "I help others, but I haven't done things for myself for a long time. Since... since I was brained over the head, and Inola was raped."

  "Did get Ryder out of it, and I wouldn't trade that little girl for anything," said David. He held Henry closer.

  "You're right. I'll have to think of something to do that will make me happy and proud, and let these young people do things without me staring at them." Henry looked off into the distance. "I built this farm. We expanded. We have people everywhere."

  David chuffed a laugh. "That we do. Now we have to come up on the ridge to be alone together."

  "I can't fix bikes. I do teach the kids at the Nighthawks homeschool. Chayton and Vu kind of took over here, with the Wolfpack. I do still run the Nighthawks with Ivy. Plan trips, train up new guys... teach them how to ride Harleys."

  David smiled. "That you do."

  "I can do more, a lot more, there. And things that get me some money, or into the Nighthawks' coffers. Training, rides, working together with the Iron Knights and Valkyries. Get things more organized. Get a fleet of off-road bikes so we don't have to rent them. We certainly have enough Soldier Pack to buy them used, then refurbish them. Buy that eyesore next door, gotta do some rallies for that. Expand a little, don't want to get too big."

  Henry gesticulated with his fingers and hands. David continued to hold his neck and shoulders, seeing Henry's vision come alive in his and Henry’s mind.

  He finished, and nodded. "You are a fine medicine man," he said. He turned his neck, and David kissed him.

  David held him close. "I am made to be what I am. So are you. I just know you want more, and I want you to step on the right path."

  "We'll walk it together," said Henry.

  "Always," said David.

  Meeting

  Xenia checked on Deputy Ronald Townsend. Ronnie did a speed trap on the way out of town; Xenia's was on the way in. "Whatcha got, 451?" D-451 was Ronnie's number, a special one; he was a huge Ray Bradbury fan.

  "One more," he said. "I take it you've got your quota?"

  Xenia laughed. "In the first hour. Then I nailed Tommy Raxin, again."

  Ronnie sighed. "His momma can't afford to pay them tickets."

  "I am so glad they let us use cleaning up the rest areas as a punishment," said Xenia. "Tommy's gonna be doing that after he spends time in jail for reckless endangerment. Idiot boy was weaving all over the road, not high on anything I could smell. Got it all on the cameras. Got a lot of work done while they booked him. They took a blood test, but he wasn't obviously jittery, or with dilated pupils."

  "His mama's gonna kill him," said Ronnie. "Throw him out, at the very least, and that car's hers."

  "Maybe then he'll hitchhike his bony ass somewhere out of my jurisdiction," said Xenia. "Tired of dealing with the boy. Not mentally impaired, had a good job at the hardware store. Mom's not abusive, got food on the table. I just don't get it."

  "Some boys either get plumb stupid, or feel entitled," said Ronnie. "I think..." What he thought was then cut off as he put on his siren. "451 to Dispatch. Got a red Camaro, late model, license plate 451 RXT, Nevada. He..." His voice cut off with the crunching of metal.

  Xenia started rolling the minute she heard the siren, and flipped on her own siren. "Dispatch, get at least one ambulance and a fire truck out to Route 376 near the Daisy's Diner sign." She called out to Ronnie. "Ronnie, you okay?"

  His shoulder mic came on. "451 to dispatch, at least two ambulances."

  Xenia floored it, the traffic surprisingly light. She slowed and went around the slowing traffic. What she saw horrified her. There were at least two bodies on the road. The Camaro was toast. One other vehicle was a truck taking workers and tools home; some were in the truck bed's lockbox, but some were strewn all over the road, the tools out, obvious hazards. The people on the road were probably workers riding to a job in the truck bed. Three men were in the process of running toward them, probably the front-cab occupants of the pickup. She could see the screams held back in their taut necks.

  Xenia blocked access, popped her trunk, and threw out some cones. Ricki Garber had her truck pulled all the way over on the shoulder. The baker was a tall, solid woman, with her short brown hair streaming in the wind.

  She ran toward Xenia's trunk. "I'll
block traffic with cones and flares," she said, jutting her chin toward the seriously injured men. "You go help Ronnie."

  Xenia grabbed her first aid kit, and ran toward Ronnie. She passed it to him and he popped it open. The first ambulance was screaming down the line. Traffic was pulling over to let them in.

  "Hymie's not..." said Ronnie. No one wanted to say "dead" at an active scene in front of large men.

  They were passing around the first aid contents, and applying bandages and splints. One of them obviously had medical training. He touched the man on the right's neck, and shook his head. The other two men wore masks of grief as they worked on the other one.

  "I'll get your kit and check on the Camaro," said Xenia, glad she didn't have to kneel and work on the victims. She'd have to be helped up, and that wouldn't make her happy.

  She hurried to the opened front door of Ronnie's vehicle, popped the trunk, waddled quickly around back, and passed the first aid kit to waiting hands. They didn't have time to use its contents before the EMTs, Jorge and Wren, were working on the living man. The man had obvious broken bones and a probable head injury, so they had a backboard.

  Xenia closed the trunk and hurried to the Camaro. The driver looked at her, choking on his own blood. He couldn't have been more than seventeen. He looked younger.

  She screamed, "Medic!" just as Evan from the fire department bore down on her, a huge blonde man with ham hands.

  He could probably pull the door off himself; she'd personally seen him bench press two hundred and sixty pounds. She hadn't registered more sirens consciously, but she knew they were coming.

  "I'll take this," he said.

  "Good," said Xenia. "What's your name?" she said, as she stepped out of Evan's way.

  "Mark," he said, bubbles of blood coming out of his mouth. Punctured lung. Goner, thought Xenia, stunned that he'd survived the crash at all. "Mark... Summers."

  Xenia didn't recognize the name at all. "You live around here? Someone I can call?"

  "Ve... Vegas," he choked. "Goin' to Reno to see Tyler... uni... Reno."

  "How old are you?" said Xenia, as an EMT put in a line.

  "Six... sixteen. Gonna follow Tyler when I get... outta high school."

  "You were going a little fast there. Why?" asked Xenia.

  "Late," he said. "We're gonna see... movie... tonight."

  Xenia said, "You guys find a phone in that mess, fork it over," she said to Evan and the new EMT, a tiny dark-haired man whose tag read Correro.

  Evan nodded as he grabbed the Jaws of Life from Reece Singh, another firefighter. Reece looked small enough that the Jaws of Life dwarfed her, but she was a Valkyrie, the braided hair to prove it. She had cinnamon skin and tilted eyes --and a vicious right hook, and could do more pushups than anyone.

  "Will do," said Reece. "Now get the fuck out of our way." Xenia nodded, and used her bodycam to take pictures of the site as she walked.

  "Dispatch, this is S-34." S stood for Sheriff. "I need Rina down to photograph the scene, and the coroner."

  "On it," said Wren, the dispatcher for that shift. "Gotta track down Rina. She went hiking this morning, but she should be back real-soon."

  "Call her mama," said Xenia. "She'll send a message."

  Everyone swore Rina Sanchez' mother (Ruby) was psychic. She supposedly didn't send messages to the canyons where you couldn't receive them. Rina would scoot her butt to find a signal when her mother asked her to call... with her brain. Xenia didn't know if it was true or not, and didn't care. She needed help, and didn't care how it arrived.

  Xenia walked around the remains of the fiberglass, screaming-red car, and reached her gloved hand through the shattered window. One had to use driving gloves in the high desert, or you couldn't touch your steering wheel. She popped open the glove box, now a twisted ruin, as Evan and Reece talked to the boy in reassuring tones as they worked. She found two marijuana cigarettes, a peyote button, and registration and insurance documents in the name of Rudi Summers. She left the drugs where they were, and stepped back. She had to contact the boys' parents or guardians.

  There was a sigh, and a gurgle, then Correro said, "We've lost him."

  "Shattered pelvis," said Evan, "And a lot more. The bag and belt couldn't have saved him."

  "Someone find his cell phone," said Xenia. "I've got to call his folks." Correro reached in, fished out the phone with two fingers, and handed it over. "Locked," she said. "Damn." She called Dispatch, and got the Vegas address and telephone number of Rudi Summers. "I'll make the notification."

  She bagged and tagged the phone, and came around the pristine rear end of the Camaro to see the ambulance drive off --with the only living patient. Correro changed gloves, and walked toward the two remaining men, both of them shaken. The one on the right cradled his hand. Xenia suspected it was from grabbing the dashboard. The wrist or hand were probably broken. Correro had the same idea, and he put his kit down at his feet and demanded to see the hand.

  Xenia took out her notebook, actually unneeded since her body cam recorded everything. "I'm sorry to bother you while you're receiving medical treatment, but could someone please tell me your names, and then what happened here?"

  "Jason Ricon," said the one on the right.

  "Thad Ricon," said the one on the left. "That's our dad, left with Hymie. We were only going to the next exit."

  "Still shouldn't have put Hymie and Hector in the back," said Thad. "Hell, we should have called an Uber. Now Hymie's lost his brother." Thad wiped tears from his eyes quickly with his uninjured hand.

  "I am so sorry for your loss," said Xenia. "What happened?"

  "Red car slammed into the back of us. We slewed around. My airbag went off." He touched his jaw gingerly. "So did Dad's. Thad here braced himself."

  "Broken, most likely, the wrist and the hand," said Correro. "Gonna put on a splint, look at your head, get you to a hospital."

  Thad nodded. "Okay," he said.

  "He didn't just clip us," said Jason, reiterating his story. "He slammed. Hard." He swung his head around, just then realizing the other driver must be hurt. "Where is he? The hospital?"

  "He didn't make it," said Xenia. She found herself saying something she shouldn't have said, "He was late to a movie." She smiled brokenly, then got her face back under control. "Jason, let me see your license so I can write down your address. Thad, you have anything to add?" Jason handed over the license, and Xenia dutifully wrote it down.

  "No," said Thad. "Just happened in a second." He covered his eyes again. "I looked in the rearview, and saw Hymie try to grab onto Hector. Saw them flying...." He covered his eyes again with his good hand, and his brother rubbed his back.

  Xenia handed back the license. "Thank you, Jason," she said. "Now, you two go to the hospital, get checked out. Make sure your dad gets checked out." They both nodded. "I'll get your truck towed, and I need to notify Hector and Hymie's family."

  "Rosa," they both said. Jason whipped out his cell phone, and gave Xenia the number. "She's their sister. Rosa Sanchez. She makes jewelry; really nice silver stuff, to sell to the tourists. Her brothers work construction with us."

  Xenia saw that the truck had "Ricon Construction and Installation." She wrote down the number emblazoned on the side. "I see. What's your dad's name?"

  "Norse. Serious, that's his name. Grandpa's a history buff."

  "Grandpa live around here?" asked Xenia. The boys were huge, but they could be anywhere from sixteen to their twenties with their smooth faces.

  "Sure, with us," said Jason.

  "Call him, and get him to meet you at the hospital," said Xenia. "And call him an Uber if he is emotional. Don't want another one of these. And give me your cell numbers in case I have more questions." They gave the numbers. "How old are you?" she asked.

  "twenty-two," said Jason.

  "twenty-three," said Thad.

  "Go get to the hospital," said Xenia. "And hang together."

  "Will do," said Jason.

  Ronnie
came over. "Blocked the road farther back, called for John to put up detour signs, got some statements of those that saw this. Rina's mom says she'll be here in ten minutes coming the other way. Got the good people farther back turned around, and on the detour. Tow truck'll be here when Rina's done."

  "She'll work fast," said Xenia. "Two fatalities, want to be thorough, but no one's going to jail over this one."

  "Heard about the kid," said Ronnie. "Want me to do the notification?"

  "Mom's in Vegas," said Xenia. "We can have the locals do the notification, but..."

  "I'll do it," said Ronnie. "Spend the night there, play a little blackjack with my buddy Tom, so you won't have to pay for overtime, or a billet."

  "Thanks," said Xenia. "Looks I've got Rosa Sanchez. Write up what you've got, turn it in, and head out." She handed him the bagged paperwork. "There's the mom's address."

  "On it," said Ronnie. "He say why he was going so fast?"

  This time, Xenia kept control of her face before she spoke. "He was late to a movie he was going to see with a friend in Reno." She handed over his cell phone. "Locked."

  "On it," said Ronnie.

  Xenia rubbed her lower back, then made her way to Rina's truck. Rina was the CSI. The coroner moved to the teen's body in the car. Rina set out her markers, took pictures of everything, and soon the coroner's van was full, and the truck and car towed away. The tools were photographed and put back in their dented boxes.

  "Be careful with those," said Xenia. She rubbed her back again. "That's someone's livelihood."

  Ronnie opened the road to traffic. "I'll drop off the evidence, write up the report, and go," he said. "You okay, you look a little... pinched. And red."