Prologue
I didn’t find the Boneyard Brotherhood. The Boneyard Brotherhood found me. I had been at the end of my leash, using alcohol as a means to self-medicate all the things that had followed me home from my last tour in Iraq. I hadn’t considered much after my therapy aside from surviving to the next day, but there was more to just surviving. I kept the ole Army routines, shaving and maintaining a cut that would keep any soldier out of trouble. It was a routine that had been drummed into me since boot camp, and I wasn’t ready to let go of it because of a medical discharge. I had planned on being a lifer, I was going for the full twenty years and maybe beyond. But war and life had different plans for me.
Fortunately, life sent me a savior when I was bent over a bar top considering the flavor of the nine millimeter I kept at home.
“I’ve seen that look before,” a gruff voice cut through the drunk fog that had surrounded my brain. There’s a reason why they tell you not to consume alcohol while on some medications. “You’re at rock bottom and ready to call it quits.”
I pushed up from the bar to glare at the person intruding on my wallowing in self-pity, ruining my contemplation of suicide.
“Fuck off,” I slurred; I really didn’t want to be bothered.
“Aye, soldier boy, don’t snap at me just yet,” the voice was attached to a grisly of a man, the majority of his hair was on his face and he was sporting a receding hairline, like the hair on his head decided it’d rather be on his face. “I see a man that’s down for the count, and I’m tryin’ ta give you a hand up. Do you want it?”
I squinted at him as I tried to decipher what he was saying, it didn’t immediately make sense to me. “What do you mean?”
“You okay with riding bitch? I want to show you something,” he looked away from me to the bartender that had been serving me watered down beers, they were so weak it had taken more than a few to get me feeling this way. “He paid up?”
“Yep, he paid after each drink,” the bartender, an older man that made me think of my dad each time he gave me a new beer. I got a look that said I should reconsider my life, but it didn’t keep him from giving me the beer even when I went under the table.
“Okay, kid,” he hoisted me off of the barstool with a hand under one arm, being kind enough to catch me when I stumbled and nearly fell. “I’m going to show you a better way to deal with shit, and you’re going to thank me when I do.” He took me out to the curb and gestured to a sleek motorcycle that sat next to it. At the time I had no idea about make or model. “Look at that beauty.”
“You interrupted my beer for a bike?” I asked because it sounded crazy. “How is this,” I gestured to the bike and tried not to wear my issues on my sleeve when I asked the question, “supposed to help me?”
He handed me a helmet and put a bandana over his bald head before putting on a helmet himself. “It’s not just the bike, boy,” he said gruffly, giving me a look that said I was close to insulting him. “It's the ride that sets you free. If you weren’t so shit faced, I’d let you drive it, but I would have to kill you if you dropped it. I like ya, I don’t want to have to kill ya.” He straddled the bike and gave the seat behind him a pat, grinning at me, “So you get to ride bitch.”
I didn’t mention that he didn’t know me. I just looked at the helmet in my hands, felt the ache in my back and wondered just how this would help. But, so far my options were nil. I was just considering chewing on a gun. What’s a last ride before I go? I put the helmet on, and after a little awkward maneuvering on my part, I managed to get on the seat behind him.
“What’s your name?” I asked before the engine would drown me out.
“Ted,” he said with a feral grin as he kicked the bike to life. “You call me Teddy, son, and I’ll gut check ya.”
He didn’t give me any more warning. He started to ease the bike onto the road, and the roar of the engine seemed to drown out every thought I had while I sat at the bar. I held onto the seat that I sat on, not comfortable putting my hands on another man, and let the wind whip into my face. After the first bug smacked me in the face, I learned to close my mouth. I was still drunk, and I wasn’t ready to hurl on a moving vehicle.
Fortunately, six years of MREs gave me a gut of steel and nausea didn’t rear its ugly head. I surrendered to the sound of the roaring bike and the whistling wind. The lingering effects of the alcohol drifted away from me, and I became drunk on the free feeling that was created by riding down the road. I had no clue how fast he was going, didn’t care either. I didn’t realize how much I was enjoying the ride until he eased us to a stop outside a little cinderblock building that was surrounded by motorcycles.
“Why stop?” I asked, feeling like I got gypped. I wasn’t ready to face the reality that was ready to come back to me.
“We got where we were going, kid,” he shot me a grin over his shoulder like he knew this would be my reaction. “So,” he shifted a little so he could get a better look at me. “This the hand up you needed?”
“I’ve got to get me one of these,” I assured him, purposely ignoring his question.
He laughed out loud, causing the bike we sat on to rock a little. He looked a little bit on the heavy side.
“That’s the reaction I thought I’d get. C’mon. Get off the bike, and I’ll introduce you to the rest of The Brotherhood. Then we’ll see what we can do about getting you a bike and getting you on your feet for good.” He helped me off the bike and walked it to a spot that he intended to park it. “So, fresh meat. What’s your name?”
I didn’t even question it when he called me fresh meat. I accept it wholeheartedly, and I had an idea of what it meant. He had said the brotherhood, it must mean I was about to become a part of it.
“Private Second Class Sidney Redding,” I said like the drunk shit that I was. I might have even saluted him. I’m honestly surprised he didn’t slap me.
He let out a heavy laugh clearly amused by my introduction.
“Shit, you are fresh. Drop the Army ranks, kid. I ain’t been in since Desert Storm. If you ever blurt that shit out again, I’ll be sure to knock a knot in your head.” He took a breath, shot me a grin and jerked the door open. “Welcome home, Sid.”