Living up on this mountain provides us with a wealth of resources. Clean spring water, fresh air, plenty of cherry and maple for building things, lots of great hiding spots for moonshine stills, and the fishing and hunting are some of the best in the state.

Most importantly, though, out in this forest, these fields, these hills, nobody can hear you scream. And even if they do, they’ll likely just look the other way, or jump in and lend a brother a hand.

Revenge is a pillar of the Mountain Misfits MC way. Not only does it help keep other clubs in check and assert our position as those crazy fuckers up on the hill, but it satisfies one of the most basic urges of my brothers and I. Fucking and fighting will only get you so far. Every once in a while, a good old-fashioned killing spree is somewhat of a necessary evil. Keeps us from killing each other at the very least.

The five surviving Sabers are lined up before us, backs up against the side of the delivery truck, hands and feet bound, duct tape on their mouths, sheer terror in their eyes.

“What’s wrong, guys?” my father taunts. “Bumpy ride?”

Brooks begins pulling the duct tape from their mouths as they gasp for lungfuls of air.

“Which one of you fucks shot up my bar?” I ask. “And don’t say Jimmy.” I nudge the dead body on the ground with my boot. “Jimmy can’t speak for himself right now.”

My gang closes in around them, a tight circle, clenching their weapons of choice, staring them down as the Sabers plead for their lives.

“You’re a bunch of sickos,” one cries out. “Sick fucking weirdos.”

“And?” my father laughs. He pulls out his cellphone and snaps a picture of them. “I want to make sure your president sees how much fun you’re having on your hunting trip!”

“It was me,” the youngest of the lot pleads. “I did it. Jaso told me to. Please, just let these guys go and I’ll take you right to him. We’ll get it straightened out.”

“Well, he made a huge mistake, because you can’t shoot for shit,” Austin says. “Neither can I though; that’s why I don’t use a gun.” He’s holding a lead pipe in his hand and he cracks it off the guy’s knee. He screams in agony.

“Take it easy,” I say to Austin. “I’m in the mood for a challenge today. It’s not as much fun when they’re already injured.”

“You’re right, boss.”

“He’s just getting him warmed up for me,” Heat laughs, flicking his switchblade in the kid’s face. “My old body can’t run like it used to, but damn, my knife skills get better and better every year.”

“I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors about how this works, men,” my father addresses them. “The rules are actually very fair and clear, no surprises like your little stunt earlier today. Once we cut you loose, you’re free to go. You get a fifteen-minute head start, and after that, we will track you down and find you, even if it takes all night. Good luck to you, boys. Make that president of yours proud.”

We grew up in these woods. We know these trails up and down and in and out. We definitely have a clear advantage. Still, it’s fun to watch ’em run like they have any fucking chance.

I cut their arm bindings and Brooks follows behind, cutting the bindings on their feet.

“If you see the two of us coming at you, you’re in a for a real bad day, guys,” he laughs.

As they take off into the woods, Brooks just shakes his head.

“Why do they always run up?” he laughs. “Dumbasses.”

A gunshot rings through the air, my father clutching his smoking revolver with that evil grin on his face. The young man with the broken knee hits the ground, blood leaking from the back of his head.

“Mercy killing.” My father shrugs. “Look how fast the rest of ’em are running now, though.”

It’s true, sheer terror drives these bikers through the woods, and the cracking of branches and crunching of leaves on the ground begins to fade out.

“Want me to drag him to the shed?” Red asks.

My dad shoots him a thumbs-up. Red grabs the lifeless body and throws it over his shoulder, while Tank grabs the other one by the ankle, pulling him across the lawn and to the shack.

“You and me?” Brooks asks. “Like the good old days?” He wraps his bandana around his head.

My heart is pounding through my chest. There’s not much more thrilling than an afternoon of hunting. Except maybe the lady I hope to find waiting for me when I get back. Maybe. That’ll be determined later.

Right now, I only have one thing on my mind.

“You and me,” I say to Brooks. And a group of bloodthirsty Misfits gathered in row, like it’s the starting line of a marathon or something. We’re waiting for the gun to go off.

“Has it been fifteen minutes yet?” Austin whines.

We could give them the rest of the day and it wouldn’t matter. We definitely have the upper hand here.

“Sure,” my dad says, shrugging. He fires a shot into the air and we all take off into the woods, ready to track down our prey and give them exactly what they have coming.

One thing is for certain—the coyotes and bears are going to eat good tonight.