Wheelie

by Jessie Cooke

  “I guess he got into it with his old lady. They were living on the streets and things had been real bad for them for a while...”

  “Living on what streets? Where?” Dax asked.

  “He was living in the city, Queens, I think. Anyways, she was a pill popper. She was really strung out this one night and they started arguing. Chuck said that she pulled a knife on him.”

  “She pulled the knife?” Wheelie snorted. “Of course she did.”

  “Do you want to hear this or not?”

  “Attitude,” Dax said. Bubba wiped at his face again and winced. Apparently remembering where the attitude had gotten him so far, he went on,

  “He said she was swinging the knife at him and he tried to take it from her. They were wrestling around in the alley and she ended up cut. He panicked...”

  “He left her bleeding in an alley?”

  “I told you, he’s not exactly right in the head. He panicked and he ran. He didn’t know she was dying. He only heard later and that was when he heard they were looking for him. He hitchhiked up here and he asked me for help. He’s my brother. What was I supposed to do?”

  Dax had his jaw set tight as he asked, “What did you do?”

  “I called Buzz.”

  “Wait, so Buzz knew the whole time that ‘Bubba’ was really ‘Chuck?’”

  “Yeah, Buzz was doing us a favor...or so I thought. I didn’t know he was going to pull my brother into his own bullshit.”

  Dax looked at Wheelie. Wheelie shrugged. He had no idea what “bullshit” Bubba was talking about. Dax sighed and said, “Moving right along...what ‘bullshit’ was it that Buzz supposedly pulled him in on?”

  “Before I sent Chuck out there, Buzz had been bitching to me in our weekly phone calls about this rich bitch that he had a thing for. I mean, he was over the top about her, you know? One time we’d talk, and he’d go on about how fucking hot she was and how he knew he was going to end up with her. He’d say she was going to be his old lady someday and he’d talk about the time they hooked up...it was over a year ago, but he still talked about it like it was yesterday. Then other times he’d be on a tear about what a slut she was. I guess when they hooked up, she’d been with this other guy who treated her like shit. Buzz met her in a bar one night and the bartender was tossing her out because she wasn’t twenty-one and she was using a fake ID. They ended up fucking behind the bar and again, in her room at her daddy’s big house, and then, she just cut him off and acted like she didn’t know him. He was pissed, and he talked about teaching her a lesson all the time...and then he’d go back to talking about how bad he fucking wanted her. He couldn’t make up his mind.”

  “What was this girl’s name?”

  “No idea, seriously. All I knew was that she was twenty, twenty-one, in college, rich, and her daddy was some big fucking deal in Boston.”

  Dax and Wheelie looked at each other again. “Big deal as in law enforcement?”

  “I don’t know. I honestly don’t fucking know,” he said. “I just know that Buzz started dating some chick named Diane. Buzz said she was butt-ugly, but she was rich too and his ticket to the girl he wanted. He was on top of the world for a while, and him and Bubba got to be pretty close. My brother said everyone else out there pretty much treated him like shit. Like he was an outsider and they were better than him, but Buzz didn’t.” Wheelie thought about it. He’d never seen Buzz and “Bubba” together outside of running into them both in the garage. As far as Bubba being treated like he was “less than,” that was his own fault. He was standoffish and moody and completely unapproachable. Michael Brown was still talking and what he said next really got Wheelie’s attention. “So, when Buzz called him that night and said he wanted a favor, Chuck just...” He stopped talking and finally Dax said:

  “He just went and slit some poor girl’s throat from ear to ear?”

  Bubba sighed. “It wasn’t supposed to be like that. She’d snubbed Buzz again and this time she went off with one of his friends. He was pissed...enraged, Chuck said. When he first called, Chuck was already in bed, asleep. Buzz told him he needed a favor. He knew Chuck had some ‘stuff’ he used to relax sometimes.”

  “Stuff?” Dax said.

  “Yeah, you know...he had some Xanax and shit. I don’t know what all he used, but when he was feeling really bad he...well, he had some stronger stuff that he shot up. Buzz wanted him to go in the room and give his friend some of this stuff...and then the girl too...Buzz was supposed to follow up after that...but it didn’t go down that way.”

  “Why? Did the girl pull a knife?” Wheelie said sarcastically, feeling his guts begin to twist up in knots.

  “I don’t really know what happened, exactly. Chuck called me later, though, hysterical. He said that he’d gone in to do this and the girl was in the tub. She was naked, and he wanted to fuck her. He’d already given the guy the stuff and he waited until it had time to take effect...to make sure he wouldn’t wake up or at least not remember anything. When he went in the bathroom, I guess he just watched her for a while. When she saw him, she started to scream. He shut her up and he gave her some of the stuff too...” He didn’t say how Chuck had “shut” Pamela up, and Wheelie was sure he didn’t want to know. Bubba wiped the sweat off his brow and went on. “I guess he...touched her and did some stuff, but even on the drugs, she said some stuff to him...bad things. She told him he was disgusting, and he’d have to kill her before she’d ever let him fuck her. She told him she was going to tell her father and he’d have to go to prison. I know my brother, and I can just imagine how worked up he was getting while all this was going on. He said he called Buzz and Buzz told him he was on the way out to the ranch and to just ‘chill’ until he got there. Buzz told him not to touch the girl...Chuck took that as another insult since he’d done all that for Buzz already. I guess that’s when he snapped.”

  “You guess?”

  “Like I said, he was hysterical that night. He was telling me the girl was dead and he’d tried to make it look like the guy with her had done it...but Buzz was going to know. I tried to calm him down, but it wasn’t working. I tried to reach Buzz but he didn’t answer. The next time I talked to my brother, he was calm...eerily calm. He told me then that Buzz wasn’t going to say a word. He never said Buzz was dead...but then he called me again a few days later and he was paranoid again. He said maybe Buzz had told someone what he did. He thought maybe Buzz told his old lady and he had to take care of that. I tried to talk him down...but the next time I talked to him, he was telling me he had to get out of there and I knew he’d killed her.”

  “Where is he?” Wheelie asked, almost in a whisper.

  “Last time I talked to him, he’d got on a boat...a fucking ferry, I think...and he’d gone out to Salem. I don’t know if he’s still there...” He stopped talking when Dax got up, and flinched when he got close.

  “Where’s your phone?”

  “In my shirt pocket, but I haven’t talked to him since...” Dax didn’t wait to hear what he was going to say. He stuck his hand over the man’s kutte and pulled an iPhone out of the pocket of his flannel shirt. Everyone stayed silent as he scrolled through it. Then he handed the phone to Bubba and said, “Call him.”

  “I don’t know if he’ll answer...”

  “I didn’t fucking ask you what you thought. Call him!”

  With a shaking hand, the other man took the phone. He pressed in a number and Dax took the phone back and pressed speaker. After three rings, a man’s voice said, “Bubba? That you?”

  Dax nodded and Bubba said, “Yeah, buddy, it’s me. You okay?”

  The man on the other end of the phone sounded nervous as he said, “Yeah...it’s fucking cold at night though, Bubba. I don’t have no money to get a place.” Dax wrote something down and handed it to Bubba, who grimaced when he looked at it. Dax took his gun out of his waistband and pressed it tightly into the man’s temple. Profusely sweating now, Bubba said:

  “Tell me where you are, buddy. I�
��ll bring you some money.”

  “You will? You’ll come all the way to Boston?”

  “Wherever you need me, brother.” Bubba’s voice cracked. Wheelie tried not to be affected by it, but it was further proof, if he needed it, that no matter how much of a loser your brother was, it was still hard to turn your back.

  “I’m in Salem. When can you be here?”

  Dax held up five fingers and Bubba said, “I can be there in about five hours, buddy. Where can I find you?”

  “I’ll wait by the boats. Bubba...you won’t tell the police where to find me, right?”

  “No fucking way, buddy. No fucking way. Brothers don’t do that.” His voice cracked again. Wheelie wondered if Chuck could hear it, or if he understood what it meant...that his brother was setting him up.

  “Okay...thanks, Bubba. Hurry. I’m hungry.”

  “Okay, buddy. Hang in there. I’ll get there as fast as I can.” Bubba’s hand was shaking even harder when he ended the call and he looked like he might be on the verge of tears as he looked at Dax and said:

  “What are you going to do to him?”

  Dax stood up and said, “Don’t worry, I’ll be as humane as I would be with any other animal I put down.”

  Hawk and Tweaker stayed behind when Dax, Wheelie, and the others left Bubba’s house. Wheelie wasn’t sure, but he had a pretty good idea that prison wasn’t going to be a concern any longer for Michael Brown. He had mixed feelings. Part of him felt bad for the guy because he knew what it was like to be torn between having your brother’s back and doing the right thing. The other part of him was completely disgusted by the fact that he was going to sit back and let his brother get away with not one but three murders and stay free on the street to do it again. Part of being in a 1% MC for Wheelie had been convincing himself that there were different kinds of killings. Murder was killing someone just for the thrill of it, or because you were a sick fuck, like the guy they were after. Then there was vengeance, like the way Brayden had died. And there were killings that were strictly business-related. Wheelie hadn’t ever taken a life, but he had done a lot of thinking about it. He was pretty sure that if he caught up with this Chuck guy, he’d have no problem taking his...and probably no remorse afterwards. He didn’t know if that was a good or bad way of thinking, but it just was...

  The ride back to Boston seemed to drag out forever. Traffic was thicker and harder to maneuver through, plus, the whole way, Wheelie kept worrying that somehow Chuck would figure out they were coming and take off. They had to stop and gas up once, and that was excruciating, and then they stopped so some of the guys could grab something to eat. Wheelie wanted to throttle them all, but thankfully, he was able to keep it in check.

  Once they made it back to Boston it was still another hour to Salem. The bright side was that there wasn’t a lot of traffic. A lot of people enjoyed taking the train or the ferry across, so there weren’t as many commuters in their way. When they reached Salem, the sun was just beginning to go down. Dax led them to a park in the center of the small, touristy downtown area where there was a bar and a large parking lot. They parked their bikes, the ten of them hardly noticeable amongst the hustle and bustle of the little city. Fall was a busy time in Salem. People went there to tour the sites where the witch trials had taken place, the homes where the prosecutor had lived, and where the “witches” were raised, and take graveyard tours in horse-drawn carriages at night.

  When they got off their bikes Dax said, “The harbor is about a two-mile hike from here, but I don’t want this guy having any warning that we’re coming.” Dax held up Bubba’s phone that he’d taken from the mechanic before they left New York and said, “He’s already texted twice. I’m going to text him and tell him I’m about half an hour away and have him wait by the old pirate ship.”

  The “old pirate ship” was a 171-foot replica of a pirate ship from the late 1700’s. It was built in 2000 and placed there as part of the maritime museum. Wheelie had a thing for history, and one of the first things he did when he moved to Boston, after walking the Freedom Trail and seeing all the other points of interest there, was to take a ferry out to Salem. Once he got there he explored the museum and the rest of the sights in the little historical town. He was glad that they had tracked Chuck here rather than to the city where there would be a lot more places for him to hide.

  Dax left a few of the guys at the park with the bikes and a few more along the way, just in case Chuck leg-bailed on them. He had two guys wait in the harbor parking lot, and he, Handsome, and Wheelie walked down to where the ship was docked. By that time the sun had gone down, and the maritime exhibits were closing, so there wasn’t much foot traffic...which was a good thing. There was a bar with a large parking lot behind it, and that was where they had parked their bikes. The harbor was about two miles away, but Dax didn’t want Chuck having any warning that they were coming.

  As they got closer to the ship, Dax suddenly put up his hand and stopped them, directing them with a hand motion around behind a big wooden building. The building was used now as an “orientation center” for the museum but used to be where they stored cargo from the ships as they were unloaded in the ports. Across from that was a big, two-story red house called “The Custom House.” “Wheelie, Handsome, you two cross the street and each of you take a side of that house. I’m going to wait here and text him to meet me across the street.”

  Wheelie’s adrenaline level was through the roof as he and Handsome made their way across the street. The Custom House was closed up for the night, and just the lights across the front of it near the wide steps that led up to it and the streetlight out front illuminated the night. Handsome directed Wheelie around to the right and he took the left. Wheelie waited in the dark with every one of his senses on high alert. It seemed like an hour passed, but in reality it was only five, maybe ten minutes when he heard a shrill whistle. He knew it was Dax and as soon as he heard it, he stepped out from hiding. He was about six feet from being face to face with Chuck and when the mechanic/killer saw him, he stopped in his tracks. He looked like a caged rabbit and as soon as Wheelie moved toward him, he took off in Handsome’s direction. The VP hadn’t come out of the shadows yet and Wheelie was just a few feet behind Chuck when he heard a thump and a loud grunt. When he got around the side of the house he saw Handsome with his gun in his hand, and Chuck crumpled on the ground at his feet. Dax jogged up seconds later.

  “Is he dead?”

  Handsome chuckled. “No, I just hit him with the butt of the gun. He can be, if you’d like.”

  Dax looked like he was biting back a smile as he said, “I guess that’ll be up to our boy here.” He took out his own phone and walked a few steps away while Handsome and Wheelie kept vigil over the unconscious man on the ground. Chuck was still completely out of it after the two big men that Dax had called showed up in a van, strapped him down to a body board, and loaded him inside. He must have called Gunner as well, because he drove up right behind them.

  “Handsome and I are going to meet the guys at the bar. These guys will take you somewhere private so you and Chuck can ‘talk.’ Gunner’s going to ride along, but he won’t interfere unless you need him. Whether or not you decide to end this tonight or turn him over to the cops is up to you, since your freedom is what’s on the line. It’s almost six-thirty now, have them get you back to the bar by eight.”

  “Okay, who are these guys?”

  Dax looked at one of the muscled-up, heavily tattooed men who, if stripped down and put in a diaper, would resemble a sumo wrestler and said, “Just some friends.” He put his hand on Wheelie’s shoulder and said, “If you’d rather not be a part of this...”

  “No...I got this,” Wheelie said. He had to be a part of it.

  28

  They say a man never knows what he’s capable of...until he’s faced with his dark side. That night would mark the day that Wesley “Wheelie” Anderson found out exactly what kind of darkness lurked deep down inside of him.

/>   By the time Chuck woke up he was naked, gagged, and bound to a chair. They were in a warehouse somewhere and Wheelie couldn’t have even found his way out of it if he’d wanted to. But Dax trusted the men that had brought them there, and that was good enough for him. Gunner was sitting in a chair about twelve feet from Chuck, straddling it backwards and filing his nails with a sharp file he’d found on the toolbox that Wheelie was leaning against.

  When Chuck was fully awake, his blue eyes grew wide and he tried to call out for help. Not that it would have done him any good, but the gag muffled the cries to the point of being almost nonexistent. He focused on Wheelie first and screamed almost silent, unintelligible things. When Wheelie didn’t react, he turned his wrath on Gunner. Gunner didn’t stop filing his nails, and Wheelie let Chuck strain against the restraints and scream and curse until at last he was able to tip the chair over sideways. The impact of the right side of his body against the concrete floor was hard, and Wheelie winced and shook his head, as Chuck’s head bounced up and then back down to strike the floor a second time.

  “Damn, man, that had to hurt.”

  He started struggling again, only scratching his face on the unfinished concrete and making it bleed. Wheelie waited until he seemed to have given up and his body went slack before going over and righting the chair. When he started to struggle again Wheelie rolled his eyes and said, “You’re a slow learner, aren’t you?” He was pretty sure the man’s next muffled words were “Fuck you!” but who really knew? “If you’ll be still and quiet for a second, I’ll take out the gag and we can get started. I’d like to get home at a decent time tonight.”

  Once again, Chuck pulled at the arm rests where his arms were tied, straining so hard that every vein in his neck and even one in his temple bulged. Another muffled “Fuck you,” that sounded more like “Mmm moo!” It took him longer this time, but when the chair began to fall over again, he stopped. Wheelie waited several long minutes, standing over and looking down at the naked, sweating man, before finally reaching behind him and untying the gag. As soon as it fell away, Chuck spat out the little rubber ball that Dax’s Samoan friend had shoved in his mouth.