by Hunt, Jack
She cut him a glance. “I’ll always love him. He’s the father of my kids but…” She breathed in deeply. “All good things come to an end and this is it for us.”
Ryan nodded. “Probably for the best.”
She snorted. “You’re the first person who has said that.”
“No point beating a dead horse, right?”
Sophie chuckled. “I guess so.” She paused. “I’ve met someone.”
“You have? Who? When? You never told me about him on the way out here.”
“Wasn’t exactly table talk.”
“Right.” His lip curled up. “So, who’s the lucky guy?”
“A cop. A Latino.”
“Ah. That’s one way to add some spice into your life.”
She laughed. “Well, it’s still early days. We’re friends. Kind of.”
“Alex met him?”
“Yeah…” she grimaced. “Didn’t go over well.”
“Didn’t imagine it would.”
She shrugged. “Anyway, it is what it is.”
Their boots made a slopping sound as they hit a patch of wet and thick mud. Some areas were concrete, others had worn away revealing the earth below. “Well I guess then it doesn’t matter what Alex said about you.”
“What? What did he say?”
Before he could reply, a huge spotlight blinded them. “That’s close enough,” a female voice called out.
“Margot?” Sophie asked.
“That’s right. Sophie Reid?”
“Yes.”
Sophie looked over at Ryan. He squinted into the light, holding one arm up.
“You can send him over.”
Ryan looked at Sophie and she brought up a hand to his hair and kissed him on the head. “Stay safe.” Ryan hugged her for a few seconds before parting ways and disappearing into the light. She figured the light would vanish and they would be gone but she saw someone approaching, a dark silhouette cutting into the light. Was this it? Were they going to take her out? The only tie to who they were?
Nope.
A hand extended.
Temporarily blinded, she rubbed her eyes. If it wasn’t for her flashlight she wouldn’t have been able to see her. The woman was attractive, roughly her age, maybe slightly older. She was wearing all black, and had her hair pinned up. “Thank you for what you’ve done. This is for your troubles,” she said, holding out a bag after shaking her hand. Sophie looked down, the zipper was open and inside were bundles of cash.
“What is this?”
“Payment. Fifty thousand dollars.”
“I don’t want this.”
“Give it away then.”
Sophie looked past her and saw Ryan standing with another man, there were three more individuals, all in their late forties. “Keep it,” she said handing it back to her. “What I did, I did for him. Not for money. He deserves better.”
Margot nodded and backed up taking the bag with her.
“Up ahead, about half a mile is an exit point into City Hall, follow it and you’ll reach the surface.”
12
Potters Valley
Strength was found in numbers, and the Brothers of Mayhem knew it. That evening as Jethro returned to his parents’ farm in Potters Valley, he was already feeling defeat. The ambush outside of Lake Pillsbury had not gone to plan. He’d lost some of his best guys going after those assholes.
Could he have battled it out, fought on and taken down their attackers? Sure but that meant jeopardizing his life and he hadn’t come this far to be taken out by a stray bullet. That’s what the tweakers were there for, the expendables, the throwaways.
He hadn’t expected a show of force.
After watching the meeting take place he figured the group would lead them back to the safe zone, an area they could overtake like Harry’s place.
But that wasn’t meant to be.
Still, it couldn’t have been far, he’d eventually find it.
Now all he wanted was a warm bath, a bottle of Jack Daniel’s and the comfort of a hot body. A few hours of pleasure before the night turned into day and the stress of what was to come would overwhelm him. The journey back had been a solemn and quiet one. He wanted to lash out, blame the others, but the fact was he had no one else to blame except himself.
It was a matter of leadership and he had dropped the ball, underestimated this group.
Nothing was working out.
He was down kilos of meth.
Short on men.
And Rudy and his asshole bikers would arrive in the next day expecting to pick up their stash.
He had nothing to give them. Absolutely nothing.
Fear shot through him at the thought of what would happen.
He’d heard all manner of horror stories. Torture, limbs being lopped off with a machete. The idea of dying in pain was too much to bear.
The thought of putting a bullet in his own head had crossed his mind but he was too chicken shit to do that.
As Earl veered his truck around the final bend and up into the long driveway that led to his family’s two-story farmhouse, he could see lights on in the windows, the flickering of candles. A warm glow emanating out. He sat up in his seat as over a hundred motorcycles came into view. They spread out across his property in front of the home, leaning to one side as the grizzled bikers mingled nearby.
It was too late to turn back.
The headlights of their truck swept over them and heads turned their way.
“They’re here a day early,” Earl said. “You want me to turn around?”
“No. I’ll think of something,” Jethro said, trying to show a sign of strength when in reality he was shaking in his boots. He’d missed a deadline once but never missed a delivery, not once, perhaps he could leverage his good standing with them. Maybe they would be merciful.
Gravel crunched below the tires as they swerved around the bikes and pulled up in front of the huge red barn. Jethro took a deep breath and tried to compose himself.
He closed his eyes for a second.
Don’t show fear.
You’ve got this.
You’re in control.
He hopped out, spread his arms wide and smiled. “Hey boys!”
Jethro strolled over and a few greeted him with a hearty pat on the back, some just scowled, while others gave a nod. “Rudy?” he asked with a crack in his voice. One of them pointed to the house. He slipped through them like fresh meat being fed to wolves. All of them were wearing sleeveless jean jackets, some still had their helmets on.
Earl went with Jethro for support but it would do little to ease the bad news he was about to deliver. He entered his home and squeezed past a hulking biker who smelled like he hadn’t bathed in weeks. Most of them looked as if piss and shit was the only thing that was holding their jeans together while others seemed to care about their hygiene. He wanted to call out to his mother and make sure she was okay, but that would have been a real bitch move. The fact was he cared for her. She was the one person in the world that had shown him nothing but appreciation, kindness and respect.
He glanced at the staircase and began to head up to check in on her when Rudy called out to him from the kitchen. “Jethro Nash.”
Jethro looked over the banister and down into the opening where he could see Rudy sitting at the table. He turned and ambled down; his eyes drifted over Rudy’s men. So many. Now if he had managed to acquire such a group under his command, he could have taken over the entire county.
Entering the kitchen he noticed Rudy had helped himself to food from the fridge which was powered by a battery bank that received a charge from solar panels on the roof. Rudy was sitting in front of a plate of food: a huge chunk of cheese, smoked meat and fresh veggies. Nearby were two open bottles of wine, red and white. Instead of using a wine glass he’d opted for a plastic beaker, filling it to the top. “Come. Sit. It’s been a while since we last spoke.”
Jethro swallowed and pulled out a chair.
Several bike
rs filled up the hallway, and two stood by the back door.
Rudy was a hard man to get to if anyone wanted to kill him. He was forever surrounded by a wall of muscle, and firepower. All of them were cradling AK-47s.
“Um. You know, out of all the dealers I have to visit, you never cease to amaze me. What a spread you have here. What year is this wine?” he asked putting his fork down and turning the bottle. There was no label on it.
“It’s my hooch.”
“You made it yourself?”
“Family recipe.”
“Well I have to say, you’ve outdone yourself, Jethro. Maybe you should go into the wine business.” He laughed and continued eating.
“How have you been, Rudy?” Jethro wanted to seem like he cared. He didn’t. If the guy wound up with a bullet in his head tomorrow, he wouldn’t lose any sleep. He was a musclebound freak covered in tattoos that only cared about one thing, himself.
“Ah you know, could be better, could be worse.”
“How did the raid on the safe zone go?”
“We lost eight guys. Some good men. Those assholes put up one hell of a fight. I will give them that. You know we had to put a bullet in a ten-year-old? Crazy but if we didn’t, he would have taken out our entire crew. I would love to know who trained him to use a rifle. He would have made an excellent member of our crew. Pity.” He made the remark as if he was telling the weather. No empathy. Just a blank expression.
Even Jethro thought he was cold.
“But enough about us. We are five weeks into this. I hope this hasn’t affected business.”
“Well, about that.”
He stopped eating and lifted his eyes. “Why don’t I like the sound of that?”
Jethro’s hands trembled ever so slightly, he placed one under the table.
Show no fear.
This is your home. Your business. Your way.
“There’s been a problem.”
Rudy dabbed the corner of his lips with a dish towel. “I don’t like problems.”
“It’s more of a bump in the road. We’re running a little behind.”
“Behind? By how long?”
“A week.”
He scoffed and stuck his tongue between his teeth, trying to dislodge a piece of meat. When that didn’t work he used his fork. “You want to tell me how that’s happened?”
Jethro breathed a sigh of relief. He’d imagined him pulling out a gun and unloading a round in his skull. Instead, he waited for an answer.
“Our labs were hit. All of them. Burned to the ground. I would have had your stash ready to go but…” he trailed off. “We never saw it coming but I know who’s behind it and we have taken matters into our hands to ensure it doesn’t happen again. In the meantime I just need a little longer to get things going again and I will make sure I have what you need ready in a week.”
“In a week?”
“Yeah, give or take a few days. I might have it for you sooner but you know — you can’t rush quality.”
Rudy laughed. “You can’t rush quality. I like that.”
He leaned back in his seat and took a large gulp of wine from his cup.
“I like you, Jethro, but delays mean delays in payment which means delays in business, which means delays in other areas that are critical to keep things rolling.”
“Like I said, we never expected it.”
“And why is that?”
“Why is what?”
He rose from his seat and Jethro swallowed hard. “That you never expected it?”
“Well, I mean, how many times has this happened? Zero, right? I’ve always delivered on time, Rudy, you know that.” He raised a finger. “And always gone the extra mile and provided you with the lowest price. That’s gotta be worth something.”
Rudy came around and placed his hands on Jethro’s shoulders, making him feel uncomfortable. He squeezed ever so slightly, kneading the muscles with his fingers the way a masseur might. He brought a hand up to the back of Jethro’s head and ran it over the top until he was cupping his forehead with an open palm.
Then, as quick as a flash, he yanked his head back, withdrew a huge bowie knife from a sheath on his waist and brought the razor-sharp edge up to his throat. Rudy got really close, so close Jethro could smell the alcohol and cigarettes on his breath. “Do I look like a fool?”
“No,” he squeaked out. “No, Rudy.”
“Then why are you treating me like one?”
“I’m not.”
“Either you have something or you don’t. Which is it?”
He swallowed hard again, his clammy hands gripping the chair. Surely if he said he didn’t, his throat would be sliced, if he said he did, the next question would be how much? Both could lead to death. “I have a crew working right now on a fresh batch. You can have all of it for zero money. No payment. And I will guarantee you receive double the amount this time.”
Silence.
“Please, Rudy.”
“Do you know what happened to the last person who guaranteed me a delivery and failed to come through?” He paused as if expecting Jethro to reply, he didn’t, he couldn’t. Warm piss was already running down his leg. “I fileted his body with this very knife. He was alive when I did it. Felt everything. I left him to bleed out. You see, what I’ve learned, Jethro, and I’m sure you have too is that guarantees are only there to protect against a shoddy product or service, and we don’t create shoddy products, do we?”
“No, Rudy.”
“And delays. Well, you can’t run a business like that. And believe me, this is a business through and through. Bombs, destruction, zero power is a pain in the ass but business keeps rolling, people get up, eat, drink, shit and fuck — you got it, people have needs, and we meet those needs. But I can’t meet those needs when fuckwits like you give me delays, give me excuses and give me… NOTHING!” he bellowed in Jethro’s ear as he plunged the tip of his knife into Jethro’s one hand that was still flat on the table.
“I hate people who promise the world and fail to deliver.”
An agonizing cry caught in his throat as Rudy wrapped his hand around his mouth, preventing it from coming out. “Shhh. You don’t want to go waking mommy now, do you?” he said into his ear. Rudy jerked the knife back and forth a few times causing more pain before yanking it free.
Rudy released his palm from over his lips and Jethro whimpered, clutching his hand that was now gloved in blood. He wiped the blade clean on the back of Jethro’s jacket before walking around and retaking his seat. He rocked his head back, closed his eyes and breathed through his nose before opening them and smiling as though nothing had happened. He took a large gulp from his glass. “Damn, that is really nice.”
Earl handed Jethro a small dish towel and he wrapped it around his hand, grimacing as he looked at Rudy with hate in his eyes.
“Supplies. You went to the safe zone for supplies, right?” Jethro asked.
Rudy let out an exasperated sigh as if he was bored of listening to him.
“I can get you more. Guns, survival gear, but more than that… food and lots of it.”
“Yeah? And let me guess, I need to wait a week for it?”
“No.”
“Tell me, Jethro, did you catch those responsible for your fuck-up?”
“Two are dead.”
“And how many are still alive?”
“Three.”
“And where are they?”
“I can show you. At least I have an idea of where they are.”
Rudy chewed on a large chunk of meat while looking at him skeptically. He stabbed his knife at him. “You wouldn’t be wasting my time, would you?”
“No.” He shook his head. “God, no!”
“Good. Well you can tell me all about it while you get my guys some ass. You can supply that, right?”
“Yeah. Yeah, sure, Rudy.” He turned to Earl and gestured for him to get the women. Jethro had never been one to go without a nice bit of ass. Forget going through all that dati
ng crap, weeding through the losers. No, he didn’t have time for someone moaning in his ear about this and that. He wanted to get his fix, and get on with business. Even before the bombs he’d frequented massage parlors, escort services, even used apps to lure a dumb model out to his ranch in the grand hopes of shooting a few photos that she could use for her portfolio.
Those were the dumb ones.
His approach was simple.
Once he had them there, he would trick them into taking meth. Make them an addict, that was the way. They soon relied upon him for their next fix. Addiction. It was a beautiful thing. It was the same ploy he used to have guys work for him for free. Meth was easy to come by, loyalty much harder but the drug handled that.
A few minutes later, Earl came into the room with a line of doped-up skanks that had one time looked like tens, if beauty could be scored. Now they looked like the kind of lot lizards that frequented truck stops. Their teeth were brown and rotting, their skin pockmarked and grimy. Hell, he wouldn’t touch them with a six-foot barge pole but to these animals, oh to them it was like waltzing America’s Top Models into the room.
Right now all he cared about was saving his ass, forget theirs.
Rudy finished eating, leaned back in his seat and his eyes washed over them.
“Ladies.” He flashed a toothy grin.
13
Los Angeles
As expected there were no hugs or congratulations on a job well done. Ryan ambled through the dark underground tunnel littered with crumbling brick and graffiti murals, listening to his father communicate over a radio.
The radio crackled then a male voice came over the line. “Hold. Take a right up ahead, then left.”
Who was guiding them?
They passed by rusted machinery, and one of the guys unlocked another iron gate. All the while his mother scrutinized him like a test tube lab experiment. “You’re taller than I imagined you’d be.” His communication with them after the age of thirteen had been sporadic. The few times they’d spoken, it had been through video and only for a few minutes at a time. They were smart, cautious, it’s what had allowed them to stay two steps ahead of the feds.
