by Greg Dragon
Now Micah did his best to follow in his brother’s footsteps. He’d joined the motorcycle club to find the same kind of fellowship Roy had found in the Army. He wanted a gang of brothers to watch his back, friends to joke with and in some small way, a replacement family for the one he’d lost.
And he’d gotten that. It was probably the best decision he’d ever made, joining the club. All he’d needed but hadn’t gotten was someone to share a more personal relationship with. He knew the right woman was out there, he just hadn’t found her yet.
Micah’s mind kept straying to the blond in the pickup, somewhere up the road ahead of him. He didn’t even know her name, didn’t know anything about her at all. What kind of work she did, where she’d gone to school.
Why she was with an asshole like that guy.
He shook his head and laughed, the rushing wind throwing it back in his face. He could find out all of that soon enough, if he wanted. It wouldn’t be hard, with everybody living so closely together at the camp.
The thing he had to convince himself of was would getting the answers be worth coming up against the asshole?
Chapter Ten
The newly expanded group of travelers stopped at noon for a much-needed rest and a meal. An old rest area served them well enough, though the bathrooms had been boarded over and there was little else to show the place had once welcomed the weary occupants of countless vehicles.
Though they had made good time, considering the late start the newest members had gotten, George was reluctant to stop. Something in the air was making him antsy, urged him to keep riding. Just keep riding.
But, many of the families of his club had children and elderly people who needed to stop and walk around. They all needed bathroom breaks, with most going off behind the old restroom building to find some privacy for their needs since there weren’t any working facilities.
While everyone got a turn to relieve themselves, several of the women and men got out small grills and coolers of food, and soon the smell of burgers began to drift around. Stomachs began to grumble, and before long a line had already formed so hungry men, women and children could take care of their other urgent need.
George got Clarice settled with some food on a folding chair he’d brought out of their RV. He laid out her insulin so she could take her dose of the drug that kept her alive. He sat and watched until she’d dialed up the amount needed, after testing her blood with a small meter.
It worried him that they didn’t have nearly enough medicine for her, even after using every source he could come up with. It was just a matter of time until she ran out, or the insulin went bad. The guy he’d bought a year’s supply from assured him it was stable, and would last far beyond the printed expiration date, especially if it was kept cold and stable.
But that was only a year’s worth. They’d gotten a six month supply from her doctor, and another from a pharmacist who was on the shady side and sold drugs from his store for extra cash. So, two years. Clarice probably had only two years.
He didn’t know what he’d do if things hadn’t been fixed before then. He couldn’t face living without the love of his life.
“Don’t think about it, Bear.”
George snapped back to the present and looked at Clarice. She was tucking the injector away in the case where she kept her daily diabetic needs, but she was watching him from behind a fringe of hair.
“I can’t help it, baby girl. We both know what will happen if you don’t have the insulin, and we don’t have anything like enough.”
Clarice bit her lip. Her husband was right. It wasn’t enough. She knew that better than anyone. But it was more than a lot of people probably had right now, if the last news reports they’d seen had any truth behind them.
“I’m just not going to think about that, George. If I do, I’ll fall apart and you don’t need to be dealing with that right now, will everything that’s going on.”
She put her hand on her husband’s and gave it a squeeze. “So, tell me about the people you saved this morning. Do you think they’ll fit in with our people, or that ours will fit in with them, since they own the land?”
George looked out over the picnic area where most of the group had set up chairs and were talking and eating. From here, he would say things looked great, but he knew looks could be deceiving.
“I think things will work out. Dara seems like a reasonable woman, and so does Janet. Ted’s a little out of it, because of the accident—.”
“Poor man,” Clarice inserted softly.
“Yeah, he got a bum deal there. But he’ll come out of it, or so Dara says. The only one I’m worried about is that Connor dude. He’s trouble on two legs, that one.”
Clarice nodded in agreement. “I overheard Micah muttering something about an asshole. I guess he was talking about Connor.”
George looked surprised. “He was? Did Micah have a run-in with him?”
“No, I think it was more like just the attitude,” Clarice said, thoughtful. “I think he beats on Janet. He’s sure hard on her, at any rate. Maybe Micah saw something like that, and it rubbed him the wrong way.”
People were starting to get up and move around, cleaning up and repacking after the much-needed rest and food. George sat for a while longer, holding Clarice’s hand and thinking. Finally he got up and pulled his wife to her feet.
“After we get cleared here, I’m going to have a word with Micah. I don’t want there to be any trouble, which means he’s going to have to leave those two alone and let them do whatever it is they do.”
“Good luck with that. You know Micah doesn’t take kindly to men who abuse women. He saw enough of that in his life.”
Her husband just shrugged, and Clarice knew George was afraid his friend was going to get in the middle of something he shouldn’t. Nothing but bad news was going to come from it, he was sure.
* * *
She could feel his eyes on her, watching every move she made, adding up every bite of food she put in her mouth. And she knew what he was thinking: she keeps that up, and she won’t just be a slut, she’ll be a fat slut.
One thing Connor had made clear, back in those golden days when he was still wearing his human face and she still thought she’d found herself a good man, was that he didn’t like fat women. His definition of fat pretty much excluded everyone with more meat on their bones than a survivor from a concentration camp.
Janet had spent the last five years whittling down her frame until she couldn’t go any lower without falling over dead. There had been one period, early in the relationship, when she had actually passed out at work.
Despite her protests, her boss had called 911, and she’d ended up in the hospital, spending hours talking to doctors and psychiatrists until she convinced them it was just an overly enthusiastic attempt to diet before her high school reunion.
She was thin enough now to be acceptable to Connor’s tastes, for the most part. He still reveled in calling her a sloppy pig, a heifer, and the like. It amused him to pinch her ass during sex, and comment about pulling out his knife and trimming the fat.
Like many of the things she’d endured since she met Connor, Janet had learned to let the remarks and physical punishments slide over her like an arctic wind. It hurt, but it did her no favors to let him see it. Adaptation was survival.
That Janet was even thinking about the issue at all said something about the weird feelings she’d been having ever since she watched that first news report and learned that the world was taking an express train to crazy town. She’d stood in the kitchen, sipping hot coffee and saw madness taking over the rest of the world, and for once she didn’t feel guilty.
Something else that had been messing with her hard-won stability was that biker guy. Micah Cavanaugh. Ever since she’d looked into his mossy green eyes, she couldn’t get him out of her thoughts for more than a few minutes at a time. She’d had to fall back on all of her old coping mechanisms so she could seem like her old self around Connor.
It was a wonder to her why she even thought about him at all. Living with Connor had killed any interest in other men years before. She never paid any of them the slightest bit of attention, if when he wasn’t around, out of fear he would somehow know that she’d let even the tiniest spark out.
“Aren’t you done, yet? Do you want to get fat, you stupid bitch?”
Conner’s mocking voice jerked Janet from her thoughts, and for a moment she could only stare up at him, towering above her. She shut her mouth with a snap and glanced down at the plate in her lap. A half-eaten hamburger and the handful of chips didn’t take up half the space.
Her stomach rumbled.
“No, I’m done. I was just waiting for everyone to be ready to leave.”
“What, so you can help clean up? Like it matters with this place. Just toss that shit and get your ass in the truck. I’m ready to go as soon as they lazy ass slackers get their shit together.”
Janet didn’t question him, just got up to toss her plate into a rusted can the others were using to gather up their trash. Connor snorted and slapped it from her, sending the paper circle and food flying.
“I told you, just drop it. You never learn. When I say something, you do it.”
Janet winced and cringed away, her hand stinging from his blow.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t think.” She hated the way her voice came out more like a whimper than that of a grown woman. Out of the corner of her eye she could see some of the biker club members staring at them. She didn’t want anything to get started, so she straightened up and lifted her chin.
“See, that’s your problem. You don’t think. Why I put up with you, I’ll never know. Even the sex isn’t worth it.”
Janet just nodded. Connor stared at her for a minute, as if debating whether to escalate things further, but it seemed as if he didn’t want to start anything in front of the others.
He began walking away, tossing his next words back over his shoulder. “Get your ass in the truck. If these yahoos don’t get moving, we’ll go without them. I’m tired of waiting.”
* * *
George had to put a hand on Micah’s shoulder and clamp down hard when Connor slapped the food out of Janet’s hand. The boy had been one second away from jumping that asshole, which would not have been a good thing. Connor was armed, and with his temper, George didn’t think it would take much for him to pull it and use it.
“Steady, son,” he whispered. “Hold off for a minute. She’s not hurt.”
“Not yet,” Micah muttered back. “It’s just a matter of time before he loses it completely. I don’t know what she’s put up with before, but I’m not going to let him beat her and do nothing. He treats her like a dog.”
“Worse than a dog,” George agreed.
Micah turned towards the club leader. “Why do women put up with shit like that?” His voice was pleading, and George knew he was looking for answers that nobody but Janet could give him.
“I don’t know. Lots of reasons, some of which the woman doesn’t usually understand herself. Maybe one day, you can ask her. But not today.”
Micah sighed and watched as Janet followed behind Connor, heading to where they’d parked their trucks. She kept her head down, eyes focused on the ground, and he knew it was because she was ashamed. But it should be Connor who was ashamed, and one day, Micah vowed, that bastard was going to get what was coming to him.
When the couple had disappeared beyond of the club’s RVs, Micah heaved a deep, sad sigh and turned towards George. The older man had a look of sympathy that he quickly masked under a neutral expression.
“We good?” he asked Micah.
It took a minute, but finally the other man nodded. “Yeah. We’re good. But don’t think I’m going to forget about this guy, or not keep track of what he does. I intend for him to be gone, as soon as possible.”
“The thing about that is, most times the woman isn’t going to appreciate you interfering. She’s as likely to blame you for breaking them up as to thank you for saving her.”
“Hell, I know that,” Micah said, eyes blazing. “I’m not planning on being some Prince Charming, riding in the rescue the fair maiden on my trusty Harley. That dude is bad news, not just for her, but for all of us.
“You know damn well, if he gets the chance he’ll put a bullet in all of us, but especially Dara and Ted. He’s made no secret about how he feels about them, or our own members that don’t meet his lily-white standards.”
George had seen how Connor had watched as the black and Latino members had worked around the area, setting up chairs and getting the food out for everybody. The narrow-eyed, thoughtful look had told George all he needed to know about the man. This was somebody you watched your back when you were around him, and took extra care when you weren’t.
George had once worked with a woman who was partially deaf. She’d taught him some sign language, and how to read lips. He wasn’t that good at either, but he could do the latter well enough to watch Connor mouthing the “n” word, and other derogatory terms.
And not just against the minority members of the club, but also as he looked at the women in the group. Like he was grading livestock at an auction, deciding which he would bid on.
The club members could take care of themselves, especially after he gave them a heads up. Heck, most of the women were as capable, if not more so, of taking care of themselves. But some were more vulnerable, and George decided he’d have a word with everyone, make sure they were looking out for any trouble.
With a final clap on Micah’s shoulder, George led the younger man towards the rest of the group.
“I’ll have a few words with the others, and you watch your step. That’s all we can do, until he shows his ass.
“Right now, I think it’s about time we got this show back on the road.”
Chapter Eleven
All Connor could think about as he got himself settled behind the wheel of the delivery truck was that something was going on in Janet’s head. She’d been absent half the time he tried to talk to her, mooning about like a stupid kid.
He didn’t know what was going on, but she’d been acting weird ever since the news started talking about the sickness going around the world. It was probably her dim brain trying to figure it out, he reasoned, but it was getting on his nerves. He was tired of having to remind her of stuff she should be doing, like watching what she ate and concentrating on keeping up with their stuff.
He didn’t like how she spent so much time with that black bitch, either. Like she was trying to suck up to her, get in good with her. With a nigger.
It chapped his hid. He had to put up with them at work, because half the place was niggers and wetbacks, and the other half was simpering fags, but he didn’t have to be friends with them.
Of course, when he thought about it, Janet getting in good with the black bitch might not be a bad thing. They needed to watch out for that dammed gang Dara had joined up with, make sure they didn’t get too cozy with the people who claimed to own the hunting camp. He had his doubts about that, but it didn’t do any good to think about it. Not now. Once they got there, and had things running pretty good, he had some ideas about how the leadership of their little group was going to change.
And then there was that biker dude. Connor had got his number when the guy went over to Janet and Dara at the motel and started smiling and being all helpful. He was too damned good-looking, for one thing. He was tall, with wide shoulders and slim hips, just the kind of thing dumb ass women drooled over. Add a pretty-boy face and a smarmy attitude, and watch the bitches drop their panties.
As far as he could tell, Janet had taken no notice of the dude, which was good for her. It saved him having to reinforce the lesson about having a lying, cheating mind. Not that it would have bothered him, but he would have had to rough her up too much, and he didn’t want any shit from that holier-than-thou crowd.
Connor had already decided he was going to spend some time gett
ing the fat sow’s mind focused on her job, which was to do what he said, when he said it, if not sooner. He’d make sure they set up alone at the camp, and then he could concentrate on making sure Janet remembered her place. After he was done with her, she wouldn’t soon forget who was boss.
He shifted a bit, pulling at his jeans to ease the tightness in his groin. Damn, but he was going to have a good time setting his bitch in her place.
Connor started the truck and let it warm up while waiting for the rest of their happy little group to finish up being good citizens and cleaning up the mess they’d made getting lunch. From where he sat, he could see the plate he’d dropped, and the one he’d knocked from Janet’s hand.
He snickered as one of the cows from the motorcycle club gathered up his trash and put it in the old trash can that had been left when the state cleared out of the rest stop. Fucking damn sheep. Must have seen too many of those commercials with the old red skin crying over pollution.
When the line of vehicles finally started to move, Connor laughed.
Damn, but life was good.
* * *
Janet pulled into line in front of Connor, being careful not to get too close to any of the other vehicles, nor to scrape the sides of the old pickup on the overgrown bushes that lined the access road. The truck might be a rusted, faded junk heap, but Connor would have her head if there was the slighted scratch on it while she was driving.
This was another thing that irked her about the man. He could drive like a maniac, backing into cars in parking lots, driving the truck down the worse roads he could find while looking for places to illegally hunt or fish. He could bring it home covered in mud and bird poop, and let it sit for days.
