Max winced as he dropped his cell phone back onto the nightstand beside the bed. Everything hurt. Each breath he took felt brittle and sore. With a groan, he managed to hoist himself up so that he was sitting up in bed. In the dim light offered through the closed drapes, he could see Henry and Aaron sprawled out around him. The sheets beneath them were dark with blood.
“Urgh,” Max massaged his neck, all of his muscles protesting at the movement. Using all the energy he had, he slowly got up and made his way towards the small bathroom, needing to access the damage.
When he looked in the mirror above the sink, he was greeted with a grim sight. Both of his eyes were bloodshot and bordered in darkening shadows. A deep cut ran down from his left ear and dried blood had collected down his neck like a dark, inky stain. Turning on the faucets, he began running the water to clean his hands. As he did, he noticed that his knuckles were red raw and when he put them under the warm water it stung. Grimacing he pulled his hands back from the sink. There was no way he could let Brittany see him like this.
He needed pain relief and fast. But first he had to make himself presentable. Wincing he undressed and climbed into the shower. He stood beneath the hot water for a good twenty minutes. It felt good and eased some of the pain. When the water around him was finally running clear, he came out and dried off, steam surrounding him like a foggy cloud.
He pulled his jeans back on but grabbed a clean shirt from his duffel bag in the motel room. Henry and Will still hadn’t stirred. Max felt better for showering, but his temple was starting to throb. Shrugging on his jacket, he prepared to go outside, but as he placed his hand on the door handle something stirred behind him.
“Hey, Max,” Henry called out groggily, raking his hands through his long blonde hair and managing to sit up with some effort.
“Hey, man,” Max turned around and took in how terrible his companion looked. Henry’s right cheek was red and swollen up like a balloon about to pop. It was painful just to look at.
“I know I don’t look like my usual pretty self,” he chuckled. “But I’ll be right again soon enough. Hand me that will ya?” he nodded to a half empty bottle of whiskey over by the television. Max stepped back into the room to grab it for him.
“Thanks,” Henry lifted the bottle to his lips and drank greedily from it. “You off out?” he asked when he was done drinking.
“Yeah,” Max nodded. “I need some pain meds.”
“I got all the pain relief I need right here,” Henry raised the bottle and grinned.
“I need to keep a clear head,” Max countered.
“Where’s the fun in that?”
“We made a lot of noise last night. We’ll have attracted the attention of the damn Red Riders, I’m sure they’ll be here soon enough.”
“Let them come,” Henry gestured widely with his bottle, his eyes burning with the fiery delight of a mad man. “I had so much fun last night. I’d love to do it all again.”
Max’ head throbbed even more furiously when he thought about the previous night. How the three of them had descended upon the small bar in town. It had been a slow night, most of the tables were empty.
A waitress with dark blonde hair had flirtatiously lifted her top to show Henry her new tattoo. He’d grinned with approval and ran a hand down her back, letting it settle on her waist.
“Darling, I think you should come home with me,” he’d told her. Max had glanced at the tattoo and wondered if it was Brittany’s work. He felt heavy with guilt to think of her. He knew that they should have been in some darkened theater watching a movie, rather than him out running errands for the Kings gang. Resentment burned in him, dangerous and hot.
When the clock approached the witching hour, the trio made their move. Henry had casually approached the pool table where two men in lumberjack shirts were playing.
“Hey man, we’re still playing, wait your turn,” the taller of the men had declared tersely.
“I don’t like waiting,” Henry had replied, narrowing his eyes. Then without warning he’d punched the taller man square in the nose, deliberately aiming his fist so that it connected with the soft base. There was a loud crack and blood erupted from the man’s face like a sinister fountain. He staggered back, clutching at his nose.
“You broke my fucking nose!” he cried shrilly. “You fucking bastard!”
The man’s friend managed to get a punch in. It landed on Henry’s cheek, connecting squarely with his flesh. Spittle came from his mouth as his face got knocked so harshly to the side. But Aaron was there to step in. He grabbed the man by the shoulders, pulled him close and then delivered a knee directly into his chest, winding him.
“Hey, we don’t want no trouble!” the freshly tattooed waitress had called out, her face drained of color.
“Go home,” Max instructed her quietly. “Turn around and walk away right now.”
“I’ll lose my job if I leave,” she fretted.
“Then find somewhere to hide. Things are going to get pretty ugly in here.”
She’d nodded fearfully and scurried off towards the back room. A few of the other patrons made a hasty retreat, but the more foolhardy among them stayed. They were keen to defend their local bar. Max wanted to laugh at their naivety. Instead, he was surprised by a bearded man who wielded a blade and slashed at him, realizing that he was with the other trouble makers.
Max cried out in surprise. But he didn’t hesitate in delivering a defensive blow. He moved with cat-like speed and grace, grabbing the man’s arm which was holding the blade and bending it back, applying pressure until he heard the reassuring snap of a bone breaking. The man screamed and dropped to his knees in agony. Stooping down Max grabbed the blade and took it for himself.
“Thanks,” he told the man who was writhing in pain, clutching his limp arm. Max walked over to join Aaron and Henry, he could feel his own warm blood trickling down from where the blade had caught him.
“Hey,” Will was wiping a hand across his clammy forehead, his sleeves rolled up as six burly men approached the trio, thinking that they had them cornered over by the pool table.
“What happened to you?” Will nodded at Max’s ear.
“Some fucker cut me,” he replied with a sneer.
“Redneck bastards. Who brings a blade to a brawl?”
“Exactly.”
The other men in the bar who had banded together approached the trio and as the two sides connected punches and kicks were thrown. Henry bit the ear clean off one guy, while Max tried to keep his own fighting cleaner. He mainly just punched anyone who came at him. He knocked out a few teeth and might have even broken a jaw or two.
Finally, when all the men were down, they started to rip apart the bar. They turned over tables, toppled the pool table, ripped down light fittings. They did everything they could to render the place ruined.
Not once did they hear the piercing squeal of approaching sirens. The cops knew that this was club business and were smart enough to stay away.
“Are we done here?” Henry eventually asked, pausing to kick a fallen man in the ribs.
Max scanned the destruction. The bar had been totaled. It would be months before it was able to re-open.
“Yeah, we’re done.”
As they were leaving, he noticed the blonde barmaid peering out from a distant door towards the back of the room. When she observed the destruction, a solitary tear fell from her eyes, and she shot Max a hateful look. He’d normally shrug off such a look but this time it pierced him deeper than the blade had. She hated him and she had every right to. He’d ruined her bar and for no good reason other than he’d been told to, by his bitter old Uncle. Both shame and pain kept Max’ head low as he trudged back towards the motel behind Henry and Will.