by Zoey Parker
Beers in hand, Zack strode out to the parking lot towards his motorcycle. His heart was already racing as he tried to visualize what would happen later. He’d have to remember to take a crowbar with him, maybe a hammer. Who knew what weapon Jameson would have on hand. He probably had a vat of acid stored somewhere, specifically for this occasion.
Zack secured his beer to the back of his bike and swung himself into his seat. Running a hand down his face, he tried to block out the memories from that awful night when Jameson had been attacked. How his friend had pierced the cold night with his high-pitched screams. His skin had all but completely melted away. The air smelt putrid like cooked flesh. It was a smell that would never truly be gone from Zack’s memory, no matter how much time passed.
Kill them all.
He hated the Skeleton Kings gang as much as he hated the drunk driver who’d killed his parents. All of his anger and frustration, over the hand life had dealt him, had been directed towards the rival gang, growing stronger every year. And now, all that hate was about to be released. Zack was almost excited at the prospect of finally experiencing such a release, but he was also fearful. If his orders had been to kill them all, surely the Kings had received a similar directive. And in such a battle there could only be one victor. What if all Zack achieved was robbing Brittany of both her brother and her lover?
Clenching his jaw, he kicked his bike to life and roared off into the night.
Chapter Eighty
Max had a plan. It was a flimsy one he had to admit, but it was all he had. It came to him as he stood outside the bar talking with Henry. He thought of Brittany held under lock and key by her brother. Max thought that if given the chance, couldn’t he talk to her brother, come to some sort of truce? After all, they had shared a common ground for their love of Brittany; they both wanted what was best for her.
“What if I could stop all this?” Max wondered aloud. Henry cocked his head at him in confusion.
“Stop the fight tonight?”
“Yeah.”
“You can’t stop it,” Henry shook his head wistfully.
“Why not?”
“You think this is all about you? And your girl? And her brother? It’s not. This is bigger than us, Max. It always has been. Old grudges go deep, really deep. You ever wondered why Alex hates the Red Riders like he does, or why that little punk got acid thrown all over him? Things between the two gangs will never, ever be resolved.”
Max was surprised by Henry’s insight but couldn’t disagree with him. He was right – the two gangs were hardly going to shake hands and let bygones be bygones. The hate between the two factions would always burn poker hot, no matter what happened.
“Maybe so, but if I could at least stop tonight - ”
“Tonight is already in motion,” Henry interjected. “To stop it now would be like standing in front of a freight train. All that will happen is that you’ll get yourself killed.”
“I fear that we are all just sleepwalking to our deaths,” Max looked up at the darkening sky. He was running out of time.
“Isn’t everyone?” Henry shrugged and raked a hand through his golden hair. “If we don’t die this night, we’ll die another one. As is the predicament of being alive.”
“But don’t you want your death to mean something?”
“Death never means anything,” Henry declared, his gaze hardening. “It is always just an end. There is no meaning in that.”
Max was starting to feel desperate. He couldn’t let the streets of Colridge run red with blood, even if the feud was bigger than him.
“I can’t just stand by and let everyone get hurt.”
“The way I see it, you got two choices,” Henry reached into his pocket for a pack of cigarettes. He plucked one out and placed it between his fingers, elegantly guiding it up to his lips.
“You can either fight with us tonight,” he lit the cigarette and took a deep drag on it, smiling in satisfaction.
“Or?” Max prompted him for his second choice.
“Or, you can go get your girl, and get the hell out of town. Like I suggested earlier. Yet here you still remain.”
“She won’t leave without her brother,” Max sighed, “especially now she knows that he’s a part of all this.”
“Quite the predicament,” Henry blew smoke into the air, letting it billow above him like a dark cloud.
“I have to make her leave with me, don’t I?” Max looked desperately at his pack mate, yearning for some direction.
“Yes, you do,” Henry nodded solemnly. “And you need to do it fast, because if Alex catches wind that you’re even thinking of leaving tonight, then you’re already a dead man.”
Chapter Eighty-One
Zack kicked open the unlocked front door and quickly located Jameson, who was stretched out across the sofa watching some porn. Two naked women with epic breasts were fondling each other as they kissed with excessive amounts of tongue.
“Hey,” he hurried over and grabbed the remote, plunging the screen into darkness.
“I was watching that,” Jameson objected, screwing up the good half of his face in annoyance.
“Not with my sister here you’re not,” Zack glared at him. “Show some respect.” He stormed over to the refrigerator and placed the pack of beers he was holding inside.
“She’s in her room,” Jameson shrugged. “And it’s not as if she’s coming out here to keep me company.”
Zack almost wished that his sister would get involved with Jameson. It would be a vast improvement on her current choice of boyfriend. At least being with Jameson wouldn’t be like signing her own death warrant.
“Beer?” Zack asked as he leaned into the cool interior.
“Sure.” Jameson straightened up and raised a hand in readiness for his beverage. “What time we ride?” he asked as Zack handed him a bottle.
“Soon,” Zack realized. Outside it was already getting dark, soon the Kings would be assembling out on the streets, their bikes roaring loudly like some sort of ancient dinosaur.
“Well, I’m more than ready,” Jameson grinned. “Those shit heads are about to learn that payback can be a bitch.”
But Zack wasn’t listening. He was stalking down the hallway towards Brittany’s bedroom. He swung open her flimsy door without pausing to knock. The room was shrouded in shadow, but he could see his sister sat on the bed, her knees pressed to her chest. He flicked on the light and she squinted up at him in the sudden brightness.
“Don’t just sit here in the dark,” he told her. “Come have a beer with us.”
“I’m okay, thanks,” she answered curtly, her tone as hard as flint.
“Look, Brittany, I know I said you have to stay here, but it’s for your own good. You can’t be mad at me about that.”
“I’m not mad at you about that,” she replied flatly.
“Oh,” Zack straightened in surprise. “Well then…that’s good. But seriously, don’t just sit here all alone all night.”
“Are you going out later?” she cocked her head at him as she asked the question. “Do you need to work?” she emphasised the last word in a strange way.
“Yeah,” Zack shrugged, trying to look casual. “I’ve got to head to work in a bit. So what?”
“Nothing,” Brittany narrowed her eyes at him. “Nothing at all.”
Chapter Eighty-Two
“Go now,” Henry urged, looking back towards the bar. The tumbled together sounds of the rowdy occupants stole out towards them.
Max felt taut with adrenaline, which surged through his body. If he turned his back on the Skeleton Kings now, he could never come back. He’d be an outcast for the rest of his life.
“Is she worth losing all this?” Henry asked, limply gesturing towards the bar.
“Yes,” Max answered without missing a beat.
“Well, there you go. What are you waiting for?”
Still Max hesitated. He stared at Henry, weighing whether he could trust him.
�
��I’ll say I know nothing,” Henry held his hands up defensively.
“Why are you even helping me?” Max wondered, cocking his head to the side.
“Because,” Henry sighed heavily and his shoulders slumped. “You’ve got something to live for, something beyond the gang. Me? I’ve never had that. I’ve only ever been about the pack, there isn’t enough room in my life for anything else. I’d gladly die for these assholes, would you?”
Max was silent.
“Exactly,” Henry raised his eyebrows. “And honestly Max, I don’t want someone out there fighting with me who isn’t completely committed.”
Max nodded softly, understanding where Henry was coming from.
“So go,” Henry prompted again, pointing towards where the motorcycles stood. “Go save your girl and ride off into the sunset together.”
Max felt torn. He looked back at the bar, his sanctuary, the place his Uncle Alex took him into all those years ago when he had nothing and no one.
“You think because he saved you that you owe him your entire life?” Henry asked, as though reading his mind at that exact moment. “That’s how we all feel, Max. But that’s not normal, is it? Alex, he plucks us out of obscurity and seemingly saves us, but always to meet his own needs. It’s never the selfless act it appears to be.”
Max was stunned by Henry’s brutally honest assessment of life within the gang. And it pained him to acknowledge how true the other man’s words were. Why had his Uncle not intervened with Max sooner? Why let him live rough on the streets for a few years? It was because Alex wanted to see if he was tough enough, wanted him to see how bad things could get before he bothered to extend the olive branch. Alex had willingly let Max suffer as a teenager just to ensure that he’d make a decent member.
“You’re right,” Max felt steeled with decisiveness as he strode over towards his bike. He was ready to leave Alex and the Skeleton Kings behind him and move on with the next chapter of his life. Brittany, she was it.
“Ride hard and fast,” Henry advised with a wry smile. “And don’t bother checking over your shoulder, because we’ll never be there.”
“How can I be sure of that?”
“You’re just going to have to take my word for it.” Henry grinned around the cigarette which was clamped between his teeth.
Chapter Eighty-Three
“Brittany,” Zack gave an exasperated sigh. “I really don’t have time for this.”
There was so much Brittany wanted to say. She wanted to scream at her brother and demand to know how he could be part of a violent motorcycle gang. She wanted to voice her bitter disappointment towards him, to cry. But instead she was stoic. As much as she wanted to convince him to change his ways, to denounce his pack, she knew she couldn’t do that alone. She’d need Max’ help. So her first priority was stealing away from the house without Zack knowing. Outside it was almost dark, she knew that she didn’t have much time.
“I’m just tired,” she said with an apologetic shrug. “I need some sleep, that’s all.”
“Women and their goddamn moods,” Zack was shaking his head as he backed out of the door and trudged back down the hallway, satisfied with her explanation.
When Brittany was quite certain that he was gone and out of earshot, she stood up on her bed and carefully slid open her bedroom window. Cool air rushed into the room and ran goose bumps down her skin. Once the window was open as wide as it would, go she moved towards her bedroom door and listened. She could hear the faint moaning of women who sounded like they were being pleasured. Brittany frowned, wondering where the sound was coming from but she didn’t have time to dwell on it. She reached for her rucksack and began shoving in a few essential items.
Chapter Eighty-Four
When Zack returned to the sofa, Jameson was once again watching his porn, but this time he didn’t object. He dropped down beside his friend and watched the two attractive women pleasure one another. He felt his body start to respond appropriately and he was grateful for the distraction. If he was getting aroused and jerking off, then he wasn’t thinking about the upcoming fight, wasn't thinking about all the possible outcomes in this situation.
“I need the distraction,” Jameson said tightly as if sensing what Zack was thinking.
“I get that,” Zack nodded. Jameson, more than anyone, knew first hand just how brutal the Kings could be. In the glow of the television, his scars looked like an alien landscape stretched tightly across his face. Zack wondered if his friend’s wounds still caused him pain, but he never dared to ask. Most of the time they just pretended it had never happened, which was easier than addressing it.
“Your sister okay?” Jameson asked, never taking his eyes off the screen.
“Yeah, she’s just resting.” Zack put his feet up on the coffee table, feeling a pang in his chest remembering how his mother used to always object to such a stance.
“Feet off the table,” she’d tell Zack sternly as she playfully swatted at him with a rolled-up newspaper.
“You heard your Mother,” his father would chip in from where he was sat in the kitchen reading a book.
With a dramatic teenage sigh, Zack would drop his feet and glare at his mother. Looking back, he couldn’t believe that he ever wasted even a second feeling negatively towards her. If only he’d known back then that every moment with his parents was precious and to be cherished.
Jameson also propped his feet up on the table, his face starting to get flushed. Zack thought of his sister and wondered if his friend would be able to resist going to pay her a visit once he was fully aroused.
Chapter Eighty-Five
Brittany pushed her upper body out through the window, grateful that it was a single story house. She dropped her rucksack out onto the soft grass and then, as gracefully as possible, she followed after it. She landed on the ground with a dull thud and froze for a moment, her heart racing, waiting for Zack to come bounding into her bedroom demanding to know what the hell she was doing. She sunk low against the wall to avoid detection, but her bedroom remained silent and still, no one appeared.
Dressed in skinny jeans and dark green hooded sweatshirt, Brittany began to creep her way around to the front of her house. She’d sent Max a message before climbing through the window, telling him to meet her on the small bridge just outside of town. If she ran, she could be there in ten minutes, but she needed to avoid the main roads. Barely daring to breathe, she fumbled her way around to the driveway and then sprinted off towards the road, past the neat row of houses she’d grown up among. She kept running, not daring to look back. Her hair tumbled into her eyes, and she didn’t bother to knock it away. All that mattered was putting as much distance between herself and her house as possible.
Each time the beam of a headlight drew up, Brittany panicked. Twice she flung herself into some bushes. But the lights always continued on, oblivious to her presence.
“Nearly there,” Brittany told herself breathlessly as the bridge came into view up ahead. Her whole body trembled uneasily, and she yearned to fling herself into Max’ protective embrace and just remain there forever. Despite the choices he’d made, the company he kept, she still loved him and believed that they could have a future together. If only Zack weren’t caught up in all the gang mess, they could make a clean break and just run off. But she wasn’t about to leave her brother to fend for himself. With Max, she would go back and plead with him to turn his back on his pack, on his life of violence and crime.
Guilt caused Brittany to choke and stumble on the road. Rough asphalt connected with her outstretched hands as she fell. She was the reason Zack was involved with the Reapers. It was his feelings of duty towards her which had made him join the pack, had made him make all his bad life choices. Brittany was softly crying as she clambered up to her feet and dusted herself off. Her sobs caught in her throat when she looked up at the bridge and saw Max standing in the center of it, backlit by the moonlight, looking so handsome, so perfect.
Her knees buckl
ed, threatening to not carry her the rest of the way. But thankfully, he turned and saw her, his chiselled features warming with a broad smile and he was running, running to scoop her up into his arms and spin her around. It was like something out of a movie and for several blissful minutes, Brittany forgot all about the motorcycle gangs and the fear polluting her veins. She thought only of Max and how good it felt to be with him once again.
Chapter Eighty-Six
The women on the television were still writhing all over each other. The taller one had lowered herself so that she was now gently sucking the other’s clitoris, her tongue expertly easing against the nub, the well-placed camera catching every intimate moment.
