“I don’t have a good feeling about this, Gavin. Something ain’t right. I thought those damn King runners were supposed to be here by now.” Jeremy looks around nervously from our spot just behind an old water well. The rest of my men all look as anxious as him as they huddle in the distance, just out of site from the main road.
“I agree with you. Thad’s time can’t be wrong. Those drop off times are supposed to be set in stone. They’d be idiots to miss it.” I hate to admit it, but I’m starting to doubt this was the best course of action, especially considering I haven’t heard any updates about Vanessa. When I left the parking lot, I had instructed Alice to text me if she heard something, anything from there house. Her and Thad also headed out together to the Barber house for surveillance in case they saw her escape. But there’s been nothing, not even an all-clear, in the last hour.
“Should we pack it in? I mean, if we wait any longer, we’re just sitting targets for when the Barber boys find out about our meeting. As much as I trust our guys to keep it low, you know that any one of those men could have ran back to Daddy Barber and turned each and every one of us in for mutiny. Jesh, for all we know, he could be assembling a crew of Bloody Pagans from Los Angeles to track us down. No one would even know we’re go--”
“Jeremy, shut it!” I turn to the old man with a look that says it all. The last thing I want to think about are the “what ifs” and he was giving me the laundry list. Still, I sigh as I kick the dirt ground, “Fine. I think we should pack it in. It’s been an hour past the time, and it’s getting too cold and too dark to stay out here for long. Go round up the guys and let’s head back to the Sunset. I’ll text Thad to get the crew together so we can decide on Plan B once I go get Vanessa.”
“Sounds like a plan, boss.” Jeremy dusts off his hands with his jeans as he stands from our hiding spot. He looks down at me with a wicked smile that only looks more mysterious and eerie as he is backlit by the full moon. With a gleam in his eye, he says matter-of-factly, “You know, Gavin. I’ve been in the Bloody Pagans for damn near twenty-five years now. And while I always thought you’d just be another bastard reject, I hate to say that you’d actually make a great Pagan President.”
Jeremy turns towards the men as he adds, “That is, if we can ever bring down those damn Wal---”
There’s a sharp pow from the front of our hiding spot. I don’t have time to react as I watch in horror as Jeremy falls, his knees buckling under him and his arms shooting up in a T. When he hits the ground with a thud that sends dirt and dust clouds up around him, I spot the wound -- a small hole shot right through his chest. It’s a kill shot.
“Woo boy! What a shot, Martin! Right on the money. That fool didn’t know what was coming from him.” A man hollers in the dark, his bike’s headlight flashing on. From the reflection in the metal well covering, I can see what appears to be five men sitting on their bikes. Their leader, no doubt Martin Barber, aims his pistol straight out, waiting for another taker.
No one moves. No one breathes. I look back and forth between my guys No one's quite sure what to do. All we know is that the worst thing we could do would be to die in that desert. I pull out my gun from my pocket. The cold metal practically burns in my bare hand as I lift it to my face and click off the safety. The rest of my boys follow, some with hands shaking nervously.
“Who’s next, Gavin! Who do you want me to kill for you next?” Martin taunts me as he fires off another round next to Jeremy’s unmoving body. I crouch down lower, hoping he doesn’t know exactly where I’m hiding at. When I don’t reply, he shouts even louder, “Oh come on now! Don’t make this anymore harder on me. Let’s just get this over with, and if you surrender yourself, I may even let your traitors walk free… with most of their limbs intact.”
My blood boils as I hear his sniveling, limp voice dare threaten my life and my men’s. I can’t stand it anymore as I yell back, “Fuck you, Martin! You and your daddy’s time at the top is done. Over! We all know what you two are cooking up. The entire club knows that you are double crossing and getting all the profits. How long did you think you could hold off a mutiny?”
“As long as I’ve got the best riders in all of California. Oh, and all the guns too. You may outnumber us, but I bet not one of you are marksmen like me. I bet only you have fired a gun before. How you feeling now about your chances, Gavin? Want to test it out and see how many boys we kill in the first round? I probably won’t have to reload before you’re all corpses for the vulchers!”
He’s partially right. Looking around at the boys with me, I doubt that any of them have fired a gun outside a range, let alone at another human being. And while I’ve drawn blood before, I’m no champion gunslinger. I just know to aim and fire. However, what Martin doesn’t know is how surrounded he is. As I scan our positions and measure them to the reflection, I notice that his men are all pointed straight ahead where only I hide. The rest of our guys have found ideal spots just off to the side of his henchmen. If they can just get a few shots in, they may stand a chance.
I manage to get the attention of the men off to the side of me. They’re about 50 feet from me, but they understand me perfectly when I motion to how and what I want them to shoot.
I close my eyes as I wait for Martin to dare speak his big mouth again. And like some miracle, he starts, “Come out, come out, wherever you are…” It’s my cue. I turn towards the boy to the side of me, my fist closed. It’s our signal. There’s a burst of noise and chaos as the first shot fired becomes five, six, seven, eight. There are a few screams and hollers, but they aren’t coming from my guys.
In the reflection, I see smoke billowing around where Martin and his men were standing. A black leather jacket falls to the ground. A bike collapses to the side. Martin is nowhere to be found. Red rivers of blood slowly start to form as my men collapse in heaps against their hiding spots. I can hear their panicked, noisy breathing occupy more space as they collect themselves and then go back for more.
Finally, when I see no one else standing, I lift my hand slightly up to signal the cut off. Everything stops. There isn’t a pin drop to be heard as we all just sit and wait. I know that I have to be the one who tests this out. This is what a leader does. He sacrifices himself first. I slide my body on the ground, inching towards the side of the well, my eye still fixed on the reflection of the unmoving men.
I put my gun out and away as I snake my head and chest out first. There’s nothing. No firing, not taunting, no moving. I stand slowly, still pointed at the dusty scene before me. My breath remains stuffed down in my chest as I will myself to move one step at a time towards the carnage. As I get closer, I can make out the bikes covered in bullet holes, the bodies of large burly men with their guns inches from their hands, and little pieces of fabric from clothes and backpack spinning in the unlit sky.
I whistle the all-clear to my boys, but none of them approach instantly. Like me, they crawl their way out of their hiding spot, careful to not fall victim to a counter-ambush. When the first man makes it to my side, he places his arm around my shoulder and pats it congratulatory, “That was a nice job, Gavin. Now all that’s left is Barber Senior.”
The man stares at me with huge blue eyes the color of the ocean. He doesn’t blink, but he does fall forward, directly on top me. In shock, I push his body away, seeing the blood spurting from around his neck and chest. The man wraps his hand around his throat as I lay him down. The rest of my men form around me as they shoot wildly into the dark.
In the distance, a headlight pops on as I see the unmistakable figure of Martin Barber starting up his bike right out of shooting range. He cackles as he says, “That one was supposed to be for you Gavin Wren! The next one’s owed to your lady, and I know just where to find her at! See you in the desert!” He fires again from his silenced weapon. All we hear of it is the sound of it flicking off of the metal tailpipe of a fallen motorcycle.
I look back down at the man. He is still moving, still breathing. The rest of the men form a circle around him as they place scarves around the wounds. One of the older guys, Pedro, begins to pray as the shot man swats him off. I push past the crowd and kneel down beside him. Taking his hand in mine, I whisper, “You saved my life, man. We’re blood brothers now. We all are. And when I get back, I am going to owe you everything. Don't you forget it.”
“Go,” he attempts to shout back at me, his arms slightly raised as if he were pointing to one of the bikes. “Go kill that son of a bitch.” His lips turn ruby red as small specks of blood form around the corners of his lips. A cough forms in his throat, and I watch as the men attempt to elevate him so he doesn’t choke. This isn’t the kind of injury many men came back from.
“I’m going after him.” I say to the man next to me, not caring who he is. “Call the Doc and get this guy to him ASAP. Take him to the hospital, for all I care. He needs help. Another one of you call Thad and tell him what’s happened and that Martin has escaped. He’s not going back to the house, but he’s going to the desert. The rest of you, loot these guys and look for the money. Even if they didn’t go through with the drop, they most likely had large amounts of King and Pagans cash on them. Let’s not make this worth nothing.”
“Do you know where exactly Martin is going?” the blonde haired kid asks me quizzically.
“Yeah. He’s going back to the spot where I told her to meet me, the spot where we started this whole thing. He knows where to find her, so I need to beat him to it.”
“How are you going to do that? He’s got a ten minute lead on you!”
One of the men listening in places his hand on the young man’s shoulders as he said reassuringly, his eyes fixed on me, “Kid, no one knows the road like Gavin.”
I nod thankfully to those looking up at me before heading off on a sprint towards where we parked our bikes behind the shade of a few lone trees. My bike turns on under me in an instant, not even sputtering or stalling. My headlight flicks on as I peel off in the opposite direction of where Martin rode off to. While he may know the way to get there, I know the back roads. No highways for me. I’m going the straight path.
In the dark, the desert does some crazy things with your vision. Every shadow looks longer, every howl seems a little deeper and more threatening, and every moon cast paints a scarier picture. With the black tar road, there is nothing really to show me that I’m actually on a road or that I am going in the right direction. I am doing this all by instinct and memory.
Luckily for me, I know that there’s a hiking route about a mile from where I am. And I know the road so well that I’m able to count the mile markers in my head at each quarter mile. Even going over 100 miles an hour, I can still estimate the distance well enough so that when I see the small trail mark just off the side of the road, I turn perfectly onto the gravel path. As soon as my tires adjust to the new terrain under me, I move back at my original pace out past the outpost, the few camp lights and fires, and through the more wooded areas.
When I come to the end of the trail about six miles later, I am practically on the other side of the highway. Trail markers are replaced by street lights and the sound of the desert animals coming to life are transformed into speeding cars and an occasional honk of a truck’s horn. The scent of the cooling desert fills my nose as I stop to get my bearings.
And in that moment, I see her. She’s in an old Cadillac I don’t recognize immediately, but, even from a distance, I see those almond eyes flickering as she scans the roads for me. I watch as her hands wipe away the strands of hair that have fallen onto her shoulders. Her red lips part gently as she yawns tiredly tilts her head against the driver seat.
I’ve found her. She’s safe. She’s mine.