I drive back to the compound faster than I’ve ever driven before and I make sure to hop off the bike a good few hundred feet down the road. It’s almost 6am. I stayed too long with Aimee, but it was just so damn hard to leave her. She’d told me about her mom waking up and she was still trying to figure out how that made her feel. I wish that I could be there for her, to help her. But instead I’m here and I can only blame myself.
I walk as carefully as my heavy boots will allow and park the bike in the same position as I found it last night. As I head back towards my windowless room, I nearly expect to see Spike standing outside asking me where the hell I think that I’ve been before he starts putting his steel-toe boots to good use. But there’s no one there. The compound is completely silent, as if the whole place were completely empty, just waiting for me to get back.
I open the door cautiously, holding my breath against the creak that I know I’m going to hear. Once inside I lay myself down on the bed, I think over what Suzie did for us and wonder if we can trust her after everything that’s happened, or if she’s not done playing with us yet.
Before I can come to any kind of a conclusion I fall asleep, because the next thing I know a group of bikers has stormed into my room, led by Elvis, who looks like he hasn’t had any sleep—but not for the same reason as me.
“Rise and shine, Jakey-boy!” Elvis hoots like an owl and the shrillness of his voice gives me a headache. When I don’t move, his tone changes from a coked-up clown to an angry motherfucker. “Didn’t you hear me, Summers? Get the fuck up! You wanna sleep, you sleep on your own time. This is my time and you don’t waste my time.” Elvis is manic and he’s so buzzed that he’s not making any sense. None of the other bikers seem to notice; they all look about as far gone as he does.
“Sure thing, Elvis.” I sit up, wondering how long the human body can go without sleep before actually cracking up. “What’s on the agenda today? Any old ladies to mug or kids to steal lollipops from?”
Elvis laughs like a hyena, slapping the other bikers on the back. For a split-second it looks like he might suffocate himself on his own laughter. “That’s funny, that’s funny shit, Summers! He’s a funny guy!” Elvis throws this out to the floor, almost like he’s challenging someone to disagree with him. No one does. “We’re taking you for target practice.” His eyes shine and I’m not sure if that’s because of the drugs or because he really likes guns. I figure that it’s probably a bit of both. I wonder how someone as high as him is going to shoot a gun without hurting anyone, but I keep my thoughts to myself.
“Great; let’s do it.” I’m surprised at how easy it’s getting to pretend that I’m one of them. I remember Aimee’s words from earlier, telling me I’m not anything like them. I hold onto that. Here, in this place, around these poor excuses for human beings, it would be all too easy to forget who I am. But if I can focus on Aimee and on what we need to do to get out of this nightmare we’ve been calling a town for the past ten years, then I feel like I can make it. In the meantime, I guess I just have to take anything that the Angels throw at me and, today, that’s target practice.
As the over-stimulated group lead me out of what I've—much to their general hilarity—dubbed the Summers’ suite, I catch sight of a familiar face skulking near the entrance. I take a chance, figuring that the men are too high to notice if I slip away from them for a few seconds.
“Are you alright?” I take in Suzie’s appearance. She looks pretty far from alright, but we both know that I’m talking about last night.
“I’m fine. A couple of roofies go a long way!” She smiles a toothy grin, looking like a little girl that got caught with her hand in the cookie jar.
I feel relief flood through me that she hadn’t put herself in danger on my account. Then I surprise both of us. “You should go talk to Aimee.” It’s not a request. “We need your help, to get the Angels.”
Suzie shakes her head so hard it looks like it might fall off and roll around right here on the ground in front of us. “She doesn’t want to hear from me. She wouldn’t even spit on me if I was on fire.” She crosses her arms and then she looks behind me and her eyes widen. “Like I said, you gotta give me somethin’ if you wanna get somethin’ back. You get me, pretty boy?”
I crease my brow in confusion but it doesn’t take long to understand why she’s suddenly put on this act. “Hey, lover boy,” Elvis’s voice is close; he’s standing right behind me. “Believe me, you don’t want that.” He points to Suzie as if he were talking about a piece of shit on his shoe. “She’s damaged goods like you wouldn’t believe! You can do better. If you’re looking for pussy, we can set you up with something.” He encircles my shoulders with his arm, as if we were best buds and I have to stop myself from pulling away from him automatically.
“You, go back to whatever rock you crawled out from. This one isn’t for you.” He waves Suzie off and as I steal a look behind me while Elvis leads me off into the opposite direction, she looks like she doesn’t know whether to cry or to kick Elvis’s head in. If I were her, I’d probably do both, but that’s just me. I can only hope that she’ll do what I’ve told her. I can’t make her go to see Aimee, but something tells me that I won’t have to. It’s clear, to me at least, that Suzie is trying to do the right thing. But then, Aimee had said that I would always see the good in people, right up until they hit me between the eyes. I hope that this isn’t one of those times.