Walton’s flock went from disbelief to outrage to collective horror and disgust, and then to modern-day mob mentality all within a matter of minutes. As soon as it set in just what a scandal they were witnessing, one that would be talked about for years, and probably even mentioned in the history books, they took out their cellphones and the pictures and videos ensued. Within minutes it would be on the Internet and once that happened, there was no getting it back. Chopper was in a small projection room on the other side of the church. He’d been in position the entire time, watching over Chelsea and watching the show on the stage at the same time. He’d ad-libbed the “dubs,” originally just planning on rolling video. He was hoping that the more he spoke, the less of the video Chelsea would be subjected to. The rest of them weren’t in it, so they had that thirst for more the way that Americans do. They wanted to watch the wreck happen and then see it again in slow motion, over and over, meanwhile whispering that they hoped no one was hurt.

So, while they were all consumed by what was going on in the film in front of them, Mr. Walton was quietly escorted off the stage. He was led through the back to where a car was waiting. Chopper watched from his perch in the projection room until he got a text that said, “Headed for the warehouse.”

Chopper left then, dodging the news vans and police cars racing toward the church as he did. It was a forty-minute drive usually, but he made it in thirty. When he got there, he saw that Dax’s and Jigsaw’s bikes were already parked out front.

Chopper got off his bike and took the gun he’d been carrying earlier out of his saddlebag. He double-checked that it was fully loaded and then before he went inside, he called Chelsea. She answered on the first ring.

“You’re still okay?” she said.

He smiled. “Yeah, baby, I’m okay. Are you okay?”

He could almost hear the smile in her voice as she said, “You know what…I really am. I know revenge is not supposed to make me feel better, but I do.”

“It’s not revenge, baby, it’s consequences. Someone needed to teach him that every action has consequences. I think he gets it now.”

“Chopper, you don’t need to do any more.” He knew what she meant by that. He never told her what he planned on doing to Walton once he was exposed for the filthy pervert he was, but she wasn’t stupid; she had to know how badly he was aching to get his hands on the guy. Before he could think of what he wanted to say to her about that she said, “If you kill him, Chopper, he won’t have to live with the fallout, and they’ll make a martyr out of him.”

Chopper wanted him to suffer, but he also wanted him dead. Dax had said something similar to him when they were putting the plan in place. Dax even reminded him that if Walton wasn’t around to face the consequences of what he’d done, his family would be the ones to suffer the fallout. Chopper hated that his family had to suffer, but there had been no way to expose him without that happening. He wondered if he let this son of a bitch live if they’d stick by him. What if they make him a living martyr and he never has to pay for what he’s done?

“I love you, Chelsea” was what he’d finally told her. Chelsea didn’t take it any further than that. Her response was:

“I love you too. Come home to me safe, okay?”

“Always.” Chopper ended the call and went inside to wait for the guest of honor to arrive.

“Hey,” Dax greeted him as he walked in. There was a huge toolbox in the center of the room and it faced two chairs that someone had already attached leather straps to. There were hooks in the floor in front of the chairs, with leather straps attached to them as well, and there was an engine hoist sitting directly behind the chairs. Off to one side were oxygen tanks and welding equipment. Chopper hadn’t ever been to the warehouse, but he had heard enough whispers to know what happened to the people that sat in those chairs. He looked at the toolbox and the welding equipment and then at Dax. Dax nodded and when Chopper walked over toward him with his eyes still on the toolbox Dax said, “Are you having second thoughts about the plan?”

“I don’t know,” he said, honestly. He knew that Dax wouldn’t judge him if he couldn’t do this. He also knew that Dax would do it for him if he asked him to. “Chelsea just made almost the same point you did. If he’s dead, then all of this was for fifteen minutes of humiliation. I’m not sure that was worth it. But he knows this was all us…if we don’t kill him, what’s to keep him from having us charged with…shit, a hell of a lot of things?” Breaking and entering, kidnapping, extortion…so many things.

Dax put his hand on Chopper’s shoulder and said, “Whatever happens here today is entirely up to you. We will deal with the fallout if there is any, together. Family, club, everything else, okay? I’m not going to let some freaky, smalltime evangelist do damage to my club.”

He nodded, and Dax let go of him and walked away. Family… Chopper thought about Reed. If things worked out, Reed would be Chopper’s family someday. He and Chelsea planned on making it happen and he wanted that more than he’d ever wanted anything…even more than he wanted the old evangelist removed from the face of the earth.

He had seen Reed once since that night at the hospital. Chelsea’s parents actually had him over for dinner, to thank him for what he did that day. They had been polite and gracious, and Reed sat next to him at the table and talked nonstop about…everything. Chopper smiled as he thought about it now. After dinner the little boy had brought out all his Hot Wheels cars and he had to show them to Chopper one at a time. Chopper got down in the floor and helped him put his track together and he’d played with him for over an hour. It had been fun, but mostly it had given him a sense of purpose. He realized as he looked down into the little boy’s brown eyes that Reed was looking up at him with a sense of awe. He was already sizing him up, watching how he acted, listening to how he spoke, seeing how he treated people. Chopper knew that because he remembered years of doing the same with his own father. The example his father set for him was the reason that he had enough of a conscience and sense of right and wrong now to even question his plan. The hate and the fire that went along with it still burned hot enough to melt steel in his chest, but when that rage went away, and he had to live with what he’d done, could he look himself in the mirror? Could he feel like he was the kind of role model that little man could look up to? He heard the sounds of the SUV and the bikes pulling up in front of the warehouse and he knew that his time for deciding things was running out. Thankfully the two greatest men he’d ever known in his life, his father and Dax, had taught him one very important thing…when in doubt, always trust your gut.

Chopper stood back and watched Cody and Jimmie haul in the evangelist and “Chuck.” They were bound and gagged, and their restraints were transferred to the ones strapped to the chair and the floor. The guys left the gags in place and when that was done, Dax dismissed them all with a nod of his head. Everyone left except for Dax and Chopper. Dax walked over to the bodyguard and pulled out the gag. As soon as he did, the man started sputtering in a dry, raspy, desperate voice.

“None of that was my idea. He forced me to go with him. He forced me to use…” Dax shoved the gag back in place and looked at Walton. The older man was soaked in sweat. The white shirt he was wearing was stained yellow underneath the arms and sweat rolled down the sides of his face. Dax pulled out his gag and Walton took several seconds to catch his breath, coughing and gasping like he’d been drowning and had just come up for air. When he finally calmed down he looked at Dax and said:

“We had a deal.”

Dax chuckled. “Yeah, we did, didn’t we? You pay me, I don’t expose you. Guess what, asswipe? I kept my end of the deal. I was only there today for the show.”

“I exposed you,” Chopper said.

“I should have known,” the evangelist said. “The boyfriend. She’s tempted you into all of this with her pussy, son, can’t you see that? She did the same to me. She made me do things I would have never considered. But you still can’t get enough of her, can you? She’s the evil one. She’s the one that will bring us all to our knees if we let her.” Cocky son of a bitch was still preaching.

Chopper walked over to him and when he was an arm’s length away he said, “She made you do things?”

“She tempted me,” he said. “Like Eve did Adam in the garden of Eden.” Chopper didn’t even see it coming. It was like a reflex almost. He pulled his arm back and punched Walton square in the face. Blood spurted out of his nose and the spray covered his bodyguard’s face. Chuck was yelling around his gag and Chopper, not in the mood to listen to him, backhanded him across the face as well. He walked over to the toolbox and waited for them both to calm down before turning back toward them and saying:

“Lies will get you killed today. The only reason that you’re still alive is because I want to hear you say it. I want to hear you say out loud that you took advantage of her because it made you feel good. You hurt her because you enjoyed it.”

“She’s a whore, son. Tempting men is what she does, like the whores of Babylon.”

“Don’t fucking preach to me,” Chopper said. He reached into the big toolbox. He took out a claw hammer, a big, heavy one. While Dax watched things from the shadows and “Chuck” watched around the gag in his mouth with big, horrified eyes, Chopper carried it over toward the congressman. When he got back within striking distance he said, “So you were just trying to save her, huh?”

In a shaky voice the evangelist said, “She was on drugs. She was selling her flesh to the highest bidder. She was living in sin around the clock. I didn’t do anything to her that she didn’t want and while I was doing it, I was trying to save her. You heard the videos. I was trying to take her sin away.”

“You were fucking her. You were enjoying yourself.”

“I was giving her what she wanted and needed at the same time, son. She’s a whore…” Chopper brought the hammer down on one of the evangelist’s knees. He howled like a wounded animal. Chopper waited for him to calm down and then he said:

“Admit that you could have helped her, but you didn’t. Admit that you were only there to take advantage of her.”

“If she hated what she was doing so badly, she would have left. My own mother was a whore, and she loved it. She loved the drugs and the men. She wanted everything she got…” Chopper dropped the hammer and used his fist again, connecting with Walton’s jaw this time. His head jerked, more blood sprayed, and one of his teeth flew out. He was still not smart enough to know when to quit, or narcissistic enough to believe he was going to change Chopper’s mind. Chopper wasn’t sure which. “The devil was inside that girl. He probably still is. She knows how to use him, and she does. She uses that devil to block all her inhibitions. She has no conscience, no regrets, no sense of common decency…” Chopper backhanded him again. He howled in pain and when he could finally speak again he said, “Why don’t you just kill me?”

Chopper flatly said, “I want to see you suffer.” That was when he pulled out his phone and pulled up the news. There were already thousands of news outlets carrying the story, and people were searching for him. The sidewalk in front of the big, fancy house he lived in was littered with reporters. The church parking lot was filled with them. Everywhere he had been over the past week or so was suddenly filled with reporters and curious onlookers. But the big news wasn’t even so much about what he had been doing on the screen…the big news was about the fact that he’d disappeared, and the safe from the church office was missing as well. Chopper made the pastor watch one of the news reports and he watched him wince when they put the video of him, blurred for TV, on the screen. When Chopper finally pulled the phone back, rather than comment on that, Walton said:

“You robbed the church?”

“Why not?” Chopper asked him. “You’ve been robbing it for years. You’ve been living off the good intentions of others for most of your adult life. We’ll use what’s in the safe to make our lives more comfortable. I’m sure that’s what you would have done with it too, right? It’s all about making your life richer and more comfortable. Do you ever worry that heaven and hell are real and someday you’ll have to answer for all the things you’ve done?”

“Heaven and hell are right here, on earth,” Walton said, suddenly not so much the proud preacher any longer.

“I’ll just bet you were in heaven when you were with that pretty little thing, weren’t you?” Chopper said. “You could pretend that you were a real man. You could make this big, tough guy Chuck watch what you did to her, to prove what a big man you were. I bet your wife pushes you around at home, doesn’t she? She emasculates you, so you have to find some poor, innocent girl to take advantage of, just so you feel like a real man.”

“I’m the lord of my castle. My wife is meek, and I am strong.”

“Yeah, okay,” Chopper said. “Maybe it was your whore of a mother that made you this way then. You know what? I don’t really care. I’m bored with all of this.”

Chopper pulled the gun out of his waistband and pressed it into the back of Walton’s head. He looked at Chuck. The bodyguard had tears rolling down his face and piss staining the front of his pants. Chopper shook his head in disgust and then looking over at Dax he said, “You can have them take this one.” Then he leaned in close to Walton’s ear and said, “She did not deserve what you did to her and if I had heard even a modicum of remorse from you today, I might have thought that you didn’t deserve to die, but even on your deathbed you’re an arrogant son of a bitch. Even knowing you’ll be burning in hell by the end of the day, you still have that smug, self-righteous look on your face. But I want you to think about this, pastor…when you’re gone, if you are remembered, you will be remembered for what you did to that beautiful girl. You will be remembered as a dirty, disgusting old man. They won’t remember one sermon you gave. They won’t remember one campaign promise that you may have meant to keep. They will remember that you were a filthy pervert.” For the first time, the smug bastard cringed and seemed to realize this was it for him. He wasn’t going to get out of this place alive.

Dax nodded. He went over to the door and called Garrett and Jigsaw inside. He talked with them quietly by the door and then they went over and began to unhook Chuck from his restraints. Chuck was gagging and choking on his own phlegm as he sobbed, and the pastor had the gall to demand to know where he was being taken, even with Chopper’s gun pointed at his head. Everyone ignored him and when the two big bikers carried Chuck out of the warehouse, Dax went with them and closed the door. Chopper pulled the gun away from the pastor’s temple and stood upright. As soon as he did, Walton said, “I knew you didn’t have to balls to do it. If you were going to kill me, you would have done it already.”

Chopper didn’t say anything. He had already said everything he needed to say. He walked over to where the toolbox was and pushed it back about four feet. He held his breath, knowing that the stench was about to be overwhelming. He leaned down and grabbed the handle on the wooden door and pulled it up. It fell open with a loud slam and Chopper was immediately assaulted with the smells. He was glad he hadn’t had breakfast or lunch.

“What the hell is that?” The pastor yelled, gagging on the odor. Chopper still didn’t answer him. He went over to him again and took out his knife. Walton’s eyes widened when he saw it and he seemed to breathe a sigh of relief when Chopper cut his restraints and not him. Chopper realized that part of this son of a bitch still believed he was getting out of there alive.

Once he was free of the restraints, Chopper grabbed hold of the back of his neck and forced him to stand. He propelled him over to the edge of the dark hole in the floor and that was when the true horror set in for the pastor. “No!” He kicked and screamed but Chopper held on tightly as he was yelling, “Shoot me in the head! Beat me to death, I don’t care! I’ll take it. I’ll meet my maker and face the consequences for my sins. Don’t put me in there…it smells like…” He stopped and for the first time all day Chopper smiled.

“It smells like death…because that’s what hell smells like, pastor. Welcome to hell. I hope you enjoy your time down there with the other souls that have gone before you. You’re a pretty healthy guy, so I’d estimate you have at least a good three to four days to think about what you could have done differently before you pass on and get to find out if heaven and hell really do exist.” The sounds of his screams and his begging didn’t penetrate Chopper’s ears as he pushed with his foot and watched Bartholomew Walton, pastor, family man, evangelist, and congressman disappear into the depths of “hell.”

The Southside Skulls version of it anyway. He hurried to slam the lid shut again to block out both the sounds and the smells, and then he rolled the heavy toolbox back over the opening. Walton’s voice could be heard, faintly, but it wouldn’t last long. Chopper went to the closet in the corner and he cleaned up the rest of the room, lastly stacking the chairs back in the corner and kicking hay over the rings in the floor. When he was satisfied that it was all neat and tidy, he went out into the bright fall sun, and got on his old bike that he had decided to ride for a while, because there was something else he wanted to customize first, and he pointed the bike in the direction of his future.