Chapter Nineteen
Ozzy
We tear into the parking lot of the no-tell hotel like two bats out of hell. I’m a fucking mess — my clothes and hair whipped wild by the wind after screaming down miles and miles of backroads and skinny, one-lane gravel paths that remind me of some of the roads in the more remote parts of New Zealand, my pants stuck to my leg with congealed blood.
Nobody bats an eye at us here, though. I’m grateful for that because I’m in no state to answer questions.
I can’t get over the look on Maria’s face. Every part of who I am is screaming for me to go to her, crying out all the louder because I know that I can’t right now. She’s out of reach at the time that she needs me the most.
I have to figure something out.
Preacher and I barge into the hotel room, slam the door, and rip the blindfold, ties, and gag off of Phil.
“Up,” Preacher says.
Phil blinks and looks at us like we’re both mental.
“Get up,” I say.
“Are you going to kill me now?” he says, noticing the I’ve-just-seen-some-shit looks on my face and the blood on my leg.
I don’t hold it against him for asking that. We certainly look like we’re ready to kill someone — probably because we killed a few people earlier today — but the only reason for the angry expression on my face is the way I left things with Maria. Knowing that she’s out there — hurt and alone — pains my heart more than anything else in the world.
“We’re not going to kill you. Not unless we have to,” I say.
“Are you going to make me watch more of that show?” Phil says.
Preacher frowns. “What’s wrong with my show?”
“You guys look like you’re in a hurry, which means we don’t have time to go over everything wrong with it. But the last two season are really, really weird.”
“It still had it’s moments,” Preacher says.
“You won’t win this one, mate. I happen to agree with Phil. The whole Vampire Hepatitis thing is strange as,” I say. “But we have more important things to do than talk about the show. We have to get rid of our guest.”
“So, you are going to kill me,” Phil says.
I glare at him. “We weren’t planning on it, but if you keep bringing it up, well, you know what they say about the power of suggestion.”
I don’t mean to be rude to the guy — hell, he’s got every right to be out of sorts after being locked up as long as he has and subjected to Preacher’s taste in TV shows — but I’m getting impatient. I want this over with. I want to be with the woman I love.
“Maybe we should just kill him,” Preacher says. “It would be more convenient.”
“No, it wouldn’t. He’s been through enough. Besides, dumping a body is too much of a risk right now. We’re sticking to the plan. Come on, Phil,” I say, motioning for him to follow.
Preacher and I grab our saddlebags and lead Phil outside. It only takes us a minute to load our things onto our bikes. Then Preacher hops up on his bike and I motion for Phil to get on behind him.
“Seriously, what is this?” he says.
“We’re taking you out of here. We’re letting you go,” I say.
“Where are you taking me?”
“Idaho,” Preacher says.
“Idaho? What? Why? What did I do to you?” Phil says.
“What do you have against Idaho?” I say.
“It’s far,” he says.
“I’ll drop you somewhere safe, give you some cash,” Preacher says. “There’s a nice bit of reservation land outside Coeur d’Alene. You’ll have to walk a bit to get to any kind of civilization, but you’ll be fine in the end. It’s pretty out there, too. You’ll like it.”
“You sound like you’re doing me a favor by abandoning me in the woods in Idaho.”
Preacher shrugs. “Listen, Phill, I feel like we’ve gotten to know each other pretty well over the last few days even though you’re a quiet guy—”
“—You kept me gagged and tied to a chair—” Phil starts to say.
“And, as probably your closest friend — seeing as you live a pretty sad and lonely life — I can tell you that I am doing you a favor. Because it’s either this, or we kill you and leave your body in some ditch for the coyotes to pick at,” Preacher says. “So, you tell me: do you want an adventure in the woods, or do you want to wind up in a ditch?”
Phil looks stricken. “I’ll take the adventure in the woods.”
“Good man,” I say. I pat him on the back and try to sound encouraging. “Look on the bright side: you get to live today. And you’re going to get a cool experience out of this to brighten up your boring life. It’s the kind of story that might even get you laid. Now, hold still.”
I take some of the rope we’d kept Phil tied up with and use it to tie him to Preacher. There’s no way we’re letting him get away until after he’s safely out of town and away from any authorities who might be looking for us.
I’m about finish when the sound of approaching thunder pricks my ears. More bikes. At least two, and they’re getting close with some serious speed.
I cast a wary look at Preacher, but he’s just got a knowing smile on his face.
“What’s going on?” I say.
He chuckles. “Took them long enough.”
The bikes come around the corner. There’s two of them, wearing civilian clothes, but I recognize them in an instant: Rog and Gunney.
I must look confused as hell watching the two of them pull into the lot, because the second they come to a stop, Gunney hops off his bike and, grin on his face, pulls me into a tight hug.
“What’re you guys doing here, brother?” I say.
“I talked to Gunney last night,” Preacher says. “He called me, wanted to know how things were going.”
“You spent half an hour briefing me on that damn show,” Gunney says, laughing. “How the hell can you put up with that?”
“It’s not wrong to want some fucking entertainment. Especially when you’ve been through the shit I have,” Preacher says, his voice perfectly serious.
“Preacher told us you were pretty torn up about this situation. Didn’t tell us much more than that, or why, but Gunney and I figured we should come out here, show you some support. Drove all night to get here,” Rog says, getting off his bike to pat me on the back. “You’re family, brother. And we’re here for you, whatever you need.”
“We heard about the shootout on the way in,” Gunney says. “That rat’s dead. Good work. Did you get to him before he talked?”
“We did,” I say, but there’s a note in my voice that even I can hear. Echoes of doubt and worry.
Gunney squeezes my shoulder. “What about it was causing you problems? What’s wrong, brother?”
I pause, looking at him. The things I’ve read about in David’s testimony going through my mind, things that even I didn’t know about. “Maria was one of the guy’s lawyers.”
“Shit,” Rog and Gunney say at the same time.
“Is she ok?” Gunney says, brow furrowed in concern. “Why didn’t you call me? We could’ve come up with some other plan. She’s family.”
I forget about my doubts. These are men are my brothers, and the only thing I hear in their voices is caring and love. “I don’t know.”
Rog looks at me, square in the eyes. “When this is all over, you need to go to her. Being a leader isn’t just about making tough decisions, brother. It’s about taking care of the people you love. And if she’s given herself to you, man, that’s important.”
“This is where you really prove yourself,” Gunney says. “Anyone can pull a fucking trigger. But taking care of your old lady during tough times? Taking care of your own? That takes a real man.”
I feel myself stand up straighter. Hearing praise from these two — men who’ve taken me in, made me a part of their family — fills me with pride. I know what I need to do. “You’re right.”
“You ready to ride, brother?” Preacher says to me. “We got a long trip back home.”
I shake my head. I’ve made up my mind. “I’m heading east, bro.”
My voice shakes a bit at just the thought of Maria. I need to be with her. Even if it’s letting her scream at me, hit me, curse me for even being born — whatever it takes to help her feel better. My heart is pounding more thinking about her being in pain and needing someone — needing me — to help her through it.
Rog grins. “Good man.”
“You sure? Do you know if she’ll even want to see you?” Preacher says.
“I don’t care. The woman who might be the one for me — might be my old lady — needs me. Even if it’s just to take her pain and let her take it all out on me, I gotta be there. She shouldn’t go through this kind of pain alone.”
“I’m proud of you, brother,” Gunney says, taking my hand and shaking it. “Now get the fuck out of here.”
Preacher and I share a hug. It’s awkward, hugging him while Phil’s still tied to his back, but we manage. I even give Phil a little pat so he doesn’t feel left out.
“Take care,” Preacher says.
I nod and watch them all them drive off.
Once they’re out of sight, I get on my own bike, fire it up, and head for the open road.
My old lady needs me.