Spike
As the sun sets, my men surround the compound, hiding in the woods and watching and waiting. From the number of bikes in the parking lot, we know there’s at least forty or so men in there, which is around the same number of men we have. I’ve posted scouts at our rear to watch for dogwalkers and lovers out on a stroll, as well as watching for the off-chance that some Scorpion come walking by. If there’s anything I learned in the army, it was always to watch your back.
I stand with Justin, watching the windows of the dormitory wing. I remember creeping across to there what feels like a hundred years ago, spying into the window and seeing nothing but the finest piece of ass I’ve ever laid my eyes on. It’s mad how life can switch up so quickly. She was the finest piece of ass and now she’s the mother of my child, the love of my life, somebody I can’t stand the idea of living without. Life can be damn strange like that.
I’m watching the window and loading my weapon at the same time. It’s nine o’clock. In two hours we’ll hit them, and hit them hard. We’ll wait for them to get drunk and sleepy and then storm in there with all the sudden violence of an air bombing. I’ll kill every man who stands between me and Yazmin. I’ll never stop. I’ll never give up. I’ll kill and kill and kill until each one of the bastards is dead. I’ll—
“I still don’t think this is a good idea,” Justin says, shifting from foot to foot.
“You’ve said that.” I’m getting goddamn tired of his grumbling, but there are men all around us and having them see the president and the VP at each other’s throat hours before a raid ain’t a good idea. “Your opinion is noted.”
Justin sighs. “Come on, Spike. Doesn’t this seem like a bad—”
“Is there something you wanna say to me?” I lead him away from the men with a nod, standing out of their hearing beneath a massive tree. “What is it, man? What is this shit? If you’re scared, stay at the back like I told you. But don’t start questioning my decisions where the men can hear you. The fuck’s wrong with you?”
“I don’t want anymore of our men dead, is all.”
“This will work. It’s time. It’s past time. Knuckles was right.”
“If he was right, why didn’t you agree right away? The only reason you’re agreeing now is because your girl’s at risk.”
“So what?” I snap. “She’s carrying my fuckin’ kid. I didn’t expect to get shit from you about caring about family.” I’m about to go on when I see something strange in Yazmin’s window: what looks like a white piece of fabric, or a piece of paper, with what could be her arm shaking against the glass. “Wait a sec.” I return to the men. “Has anybody got a scoped rifle?”
“Boss.”
One of the men hands me a scoped M16. I return to Justin, make sure the safety’s one—it’d be a cruel joke if I came this far just to accidentally shoot her—and then look through the scope. I was right. It’s her arm, the paper fluttering as she trembles. She must’ve been holding that sign up for ages. The words are written in what could be tar, thick and black and sticky-looking. They Know You’re Coming. Stay Away. I toss the rifle to the undergrowth, cursing under my breath.
“Fuck,” I whisper. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
But how?
“They’re expecting us,” I tell Justin. “The fucking Scorpions are fucking expecting us.” I’m about to kick my bike when I remember that there’re men everywhere. In the army whenever we saw the officers showing emotion it was always a bad sign. They were meant to be tougher than us.
“Maybe they saw us riding in. Maybe they had lookouts.”
“Maybe,” I mutter, but that pisses me off because I sent men out beforehand exactly for that purpose. If they’d had lookouts we should’ve known about it.
“What now, boss?” one of the men asks from the darkness.
“We return to the clubhouse,” I say, knowing it’s the only smart move. We can’t hit them now, not if they’re ready for us. We have to wait until morning, make them think we’ve given up. “Justin, gather the men. Get the order out to return to the clubhouse. And get the order out that at 0700—” I cut myself off, wondering. If they know, it could be lookouts, or Snake could’ve paid one of my men to tip him off. One of the lower-ranking men, somebody who needs the cash and doesn’t feel allegiance to the club. “Get the order out that the men need to be ready to hit the club at any time. I want them on standby all night and all day tomorrow. We’re gonna hit these bastards with everything we’ve got. Just let them relax first. And Justin.” I turn to him. “If you say one more word about backing out of this, I’m gonna smash your teeth into the back of your skull.”
Before he can reply to that, I climb on my bike and kick it into a growl, staring at the rectangle of light and the shaking sign. I’m coming back for you, I promise her. I’m not leaving you. Just stay strong.
Back at the clubhouse, I sit in my office, staring at the clock, Desert Eagle resting against my knee. I watch as the seconds tic by, trying to picture the Scorpions getting sleepy, the Scorpions getting drunk. At two o’clock in the morning I lie down on the cot, getting a few hours of fitful sleep. I wake at six with my belly growling in hunger. But I won’t satisfy it, not until my other hunger has been satisfied.
I stand up and roll my neck in my shoulders.
“Time to go to war,” I mutter.