Blade
Pulling up next to my brothers on the mountain ridge, we stand back waiting for that piece of shit, Skid to meet up with his contact. Tank looks exhausted from following and babysitting this asshole around this past week. He’s leaning against the back of the rock crawler truck with his eyes shut. We hear a familiar rumble of a bike and see dirt kicking up across the old desert dirt road. Spider crawls over to the ridge with his spotting scope that catches pictures and he watches.
Down by the old, beat up building, one of the cargo trucks we’ve been watching is parked outside. About thirty miles out of town, in the dead center of nowhere, no one would even care why this truck would be making a stop. The rest of us crawl forward, with Spider anxious to see what they pull out of the truck ready to be unloaded.
Skid parks his bike and heads toward the old building when the door swings open and an older man walks out. Around his fifties, he shakes hands with Skid. Spider’s phone crackles next to us just as the speakers pick up Skid’s voice. I turn to stare at the phone and Spider smiles at me. “I stuck a bug in his cut under a patch before we came out here.”
Skid asks the man, “Haul went okay while I was out of town?”
“Didn’t have any problems with the Battle Born down south since most have been camped out up in Reno, like you said. We have this load and another one next week. Johnny wants you to get control of the club, Skid. It’s hard enough hauling this through Vegas and then Reno. Reno is our drop. Johnny isn’t happy Blade is up here.”
Skid’s voice drops low and menacing. “Watch what the fuck you say, motherfucker, you know shit of the club life, how the club runs.” Skid steps closer to the guy. “You guys and the old Prez fucked up when you let them take the club over, that’s all on you. Help me get this shit loaded into the building before the train gets here, and I want my cut for the intel. The rest will have to work out in time.”
The man slaps a rolled-up wad of cash in Skid’s hand, then, walking over to the back of the truck, he flips the back open and young homeless looking boys and girls come walking out down the ramp.
My stomach drops looking over the kids that are maybe anywhere from twelve to eighteen-years-old as they hold their hands over their eyes to protect themselves from the beating sun. I feel like I need to puke at the sight of these terrified kids all huddled together.
Skid jumps up, picking up an eight-year-old girl and handing her over roughly to the man, like she’s a piece of trash. I close my eyes and look down, unable to imagine these dicks who want to buy these kids. I know the sex trade, especially with homeless kids and the drugged-up parents who sell them off. This is bad, so bad. Stryker forbids any sell of anything underage to come across our territory. We knew the old Prez was selling sex and drugs, but this is much worse than we thought. Selling kids on the black market is beyond fucked up.
Tank growls behind me, “We ain’t letting those kids get on that train.” He backs up to stand by the truck and calls in the back up who’s waiting on our signal. “Come in ASAP, everyone alive, Skid and one other man and about six kids. Everyone alive.” Hanging up his phone he crawls back over to us.
The high pitch noise of dirt bikes sounding from the distance gets louder. The man and Skid look nervous, pushing the kids into the building, except for one. Skid grabs a young boy by the hair and pulls him back against him as a shield just as four brothers rush from different directions. Two brothers from the west and two from the east. One brother is laying down the bike hard on the side, throwing a huge dirt cloud in Skid’s direction.
The dust settles enough to see that he rolled to the other side of the truck. Popping back up onto his feet and tossing his helmet off, he pulls a gun from his boot. My boys make me proud, even though, at this range, it’s tough to tell who’s who with their dirt bike gear on and not their cuts.
Skid looks around, pointing his gun in all directions, trying to find a way out. Pissed off, he screams at the guy who brought the truck in, “Where’s your fucking gun! Dumb asshole!”
The man at least looks embarrassed enough to say, “In the truck.” Rubbing a hand over his face, he looks resigned to the fact that he’s not going anywhere. Skid aims his gun and shoots him through the skull. That sucks, we could have tortured him for info, but Skid knew this.
Skid looks feral, stepping back till his back is against the old building. His crazy laughter crackles through the speakers, “I’m not letting you take that pussy to torture and question. Any of you step even a hair closer to me, I’ll pop this boy in the head right before I grab one of those bitches inside.”
Solo, Pawn and Gunner are off their bikes which are parked on the opposite side of the building to where Skid is standing. Solo and Pawn lift Gunner by grabbing one boot each and pushing him up.
Gunner pulls himself on top of the building and crawls over the roof top. Solo sneaks around one side of the building, as does the other prospect, Pawn. Skid’s crazy eyes catch Solo moving in. Ripping his gun away from the kid’s head, he takes a shot at Solo as he ducks back behind the building. Gunner jumps down on top of Skid, tackling him and the boy to the ground. Solo and Pawn run forward and pull the boy away, taking him into the building and securing all the kids.
Gunner and Wrench fight with Skid, finally taking his gun and pinning him to the ground.
Not wasting anymore time watching from up here, we jump in the truck. We need to get out before the train makes it here. I tell Tank to stay back with Spider and watch for trucks, see what happens after the train pulls in. Axl jumps in with me, racing down to clean this up.
By the time we are down there, Skid’s bike is in the back of the hauler. Not having time to be gentle, we move the kids back into the hauler and slam the door down.
“Axl, drive this piece of shit truck to the old warehouse.” Axl nods in understanding, jumps in and drives off. Gunner and Wrench throw a hog tied, pissed off Skid in the back of my truck and the dead body on top of him.
“No time, get the fuck out of here, meet up at the Mine,” I yell out with the nerves I feel crawling up my spine. The brothers jump back onto their dirt bikes kicking up dirt and making tracks to meet me at the Mine.
I’m peeling out right behind them. Not wanting to make the ride too comfortable for Skid either, I hit every washed out whole or bump in the road.
Ten minutes later, Tank sends a text saying the train pulled through after a quick stop. Driver didn’t get out, and, seeing no truck in sight, geared the train back up and left. He and Spider are heading to the warehouse to help Axl.
What an absolute cluster fuck this all turned into. Speeding as fast as I can to get to the Mine, I just have an uneasy feeling and need to get this shit all over with. This is just the beginning of a long fight. Bread crumbs we keep coming across lead us to more questions, answering only few along the way.