Zack liked how the engine of his motorcycle trembled thunderously between his legs as he rode. It made him feel powerful. And with the wind in his hair, it made him feel wild and free. Infinite.
Zooming up the highway, he tried not to think about what had just happened with Brittany. He had no choice but to walk away from her. But he knew he’d forever be haunted by the pained look she’d given him as he possibly walked away from her for the last time. But how could she expect him to give up everything for her? He owed the Red Riders his loyalty, how could Brittany not understand that?
As his frustration mounted, Zack drove faster. He bobbed in between the lines of traffic, desperate to reach Colridge before it was too late. Jameson was always close by, keeping pace. No matter how fast Zack went, how much he pushed the limits of his bike and of himself, he knew that Jameson would always be by his side. Loyal to the end. He was his family, his brother.
With a loud screech, Zack pulled hard on the breaks. The putrid stench of burned rubber filled the air. Jameson stopped beside him a few seconds later, breaking just as abruptly. The two men were perched on their bikes and looking down at Colridge’s main street and the carnage unfolding within it.
“Jesus,” Jameson breathed while Zack remained silent. He could only stare at the apocalyptic scene which greeted them.
The street was slick with freshly spilled blood. Countless men were engaged in hand to hand combat. Even from a distance, Zack could hear the sickening squelch of a blade being thrust into someone’s gut. The air was heavy with the coppery smell of blood and death. It reached up towards Zack and Jameson desperate to entangle them in its fatal embrace.
Jameson dropped off his bike and retrieved his crowbar.
“I guess we’d better get into it,” he said solemnly.
“Can we even tell who we should be fighting?” Zack looked down at the writhing mass of men engaged in battle. It was impossible to distinguish friend from foe. Everyone was drenched in either their own blood or a stranger’s. The emblems on their jackets, they so proudly wore, had been obscured beyond recognition.
“Does it even matter anymore?” Jameson held his friend in a level gaze.
“People are dying down there.” Zack could see the fallen, scattered along the street. Left down there to rot like an unwanted piece of garbage.
“War is never pretty.”
Zack sighed and looked skyward. Above him, the stars in the sky sparkled like unobtainable jewels. If Brittany could see him now, she’d tell him to run, to turn away from the gruesome fight and never look back.
“As a kid I used to wonder if my parents were up there,” Zack was still gazing up at the stars.
“Watching over you?”
“Yeah,” Zack gave a sad smile. “I imagined them looking down at me, watching what I did. And you know what?” he lowered his head to lock eyes with his friend.
“What?” Jameson prompted.
“I’m pretty sure they’d be bitterly disappointed in me.”
“No,” Jameson his head, his voice thick with certainty. “They wouldn’t.”
“Wanna bet?” Zack raised his eyebrows. He knew that he was far from a perfect son and now, was far from a perfect brother.
“Maybe you did some things you’re not proud of, but it always came from a good place.”
“Mmm.”
“Your sister is going to go on and have a better life, because of you.”
Zack felt his heart tighten in his chest. Where was Brittany now? She was probably driving down some dark road moving further and further away from him. Would he ever see her again?
“If you want to walk away from this, tell me now,” Jameson turned his back completely on the fight to stare at Zack. His crowbar was now lowered at his side, no longer being brandished as a weapon.
“We can’t walk away,” Zack sighed. This was their battle. It was here on the streets of Colridge that their fate was supposed to be decided.
“We can,” Jameson ventured softly. “We can get on our bikes and ride north until we hit the border.”
“And what then?” Zack demanded tersely. “We spend the rest of our lives looking over our shoulder?”
Jameson pursed his lips and jerked his head towards the gang members still standing and fighting. It was gruesome. Men squealed like pigs as their limbs were severed by crude weapons. Whoever did come out as the victor would surely be gravely wounded. There was no longer a victory to be had. It was now just about survival.
“I think whoever walks away from this fight will have better things to do than come after a couple of fugitives.”
Zack couldn’t understand how his friend was having such a change of heart. Had the terrifying scene beneath them terrified Jameson as much as it had Zack?
“I thought the pack meant everything to you,” Zack challenged.
“It does,” Jameson confirmed. “But so do you.”
There was a heavy pause between them. Slowly filling up with thoughts unsaid.
“You’ve been my best friend for a long time,” Jameson continued. “And that friendship, Zack, it means something to me, it’s the most tangible thing in my life right now. How fucked up is that? Regardless, if you tell me you want to fight, I’ll walk down there with you, in all likelihood to our deaths. But we’ll be dying as we lived, side by side. If you tell me you want to walk away, then we’ll do that side by side too. I’m loyal to you over the pack, Zack.”
Zack was speechless. He’d always assumed that the pack mattered most. The desire to walk away was almost too delectable to ignore. They could assume new identities, new lives.
“We can’t run away.” But the reality was that they were men with violence hard-wired in their DNA. Wherever they went, trouble would follow. They were Red Riders through and through.
Jameson tightened his grip on his crowbar and raised it menacingly. “Well, then let’s do this.”
“We can’t fight either,” Zack added. He watched his friend’s face contort with confusion. “It’s suicide to fight in that.” He looked down at the street where fewer men were still standing. There was so much blood, so many anguished screams bleeding out into the night, being ignored. Even angels would fear to tread down the main street tonight.
“Then what do you suggest we do?”
“We claim the Red Riders as our own,” an idea was starting to formulate in Zack’s mind. “We return to the bar and await the return of those who survive.”
“They’ll hate us for not fighting!” Jameson insisted, his face reddening with worry.
“Not if we say we were against it all along. That we always knew it would be a blood bath. We chose to forsake the fight in order to ensure the future of the Red Riders. No one from that fight will be in a fit state to oppose us.”
Zack could see the wilted stance of all those who still stood. They reached for wounds that wouldn’t cease bleeding, as they half-heartedly fought the next man in their wake. No one was going to chastise Zack and Jameson, not when they were the strong ones who still had some fight left in them.
“You’re saying we take on leadership of the Red Riders?” Jameson cocked his head to one side, weighing up the proposal. “Together?”
“Exactly,” Zack nodded and flashed his friend a grin. “We lead the Red Riders into a new era. Side by side.”
“We could still walk away,” Jameson ventured. “We get on our bikes and just drive until dawn.”
“We’re not the type to run away,” Zack gave him an apologetic smile. “Nor are we the type to blend into normal society. We were groomed to be pack members. Now it’s our turn to take the reins and mold us into the most powerful pack in the state.”
“I do like the sound of that,” Jameson was running his hands through his short hair.
“We’d live like kings,” Zack added, grinning devilishly.
“I can’t really argue with that,” Jameson laughed. “Maybe it’s time we get back to the bar and wait on the arrival of the others.”
“Yeah,” Zack took one last look at the fight which was drawing to a natural conclusion. He was ready to lead his pack. A part of him knew that all along this had been his destiny. He glanced up at the stars as he kick-started his bike. He no longer cared if his deceased parents disapproved of his choices. He was making his own way in life, and he was proud of himself. That was enough.