“You okay? You need help?” Arsen asked softly as he approached. The closer he got, the worse she looked. She had obviously been lovely, once, but now the woman was bruised and battered and her skin was turning red from the sun. One eye was dark and swollen, her lips were puffy and split, and she had clear bruises on her face, neck and arms. Her hair was greasy and wild, as if it hadn’t seen shampoo, water, or a brush in some time, and her shirt was torn, one sleeve nearly ripped away. The worst, though, were her eyes. They were empty, vacant, as if all the life had gone out of her. She had the stare of the dead.
“Miss? What happened to you? Do you need help?” Arsen asked, trying to get her attention.
“What’s wrong with her…other than the obvious?” Nelson asked.
She walked past them as if they were ghosts. “Hey, lady, you okay?” Zane tried, taking her arm and pulling her to a stop. She turned to face him, but otherwise didn’t move.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” Arsen said then turned her head to face him. There wasn’t any blood on her face, and none of the bruises looked bad enough to have caused head trauma. “What happened to you? Can you tell me your name?”
She stared at him but said nothing.
Berk snapped his fingers in front of her face. “Hey! We’re talking to you!” he said loudly.
“Knock it off,” Arsen ordered, pulling Berk’s hand away.
“Drugs?” Chet asked.
Arsen took her arm and rolled it over so he could look at the inside, then did the same on the other. “No tracks. She’s obviously been beaten. Head trauma, maybe. Or shock.” He turned his attention back to her. “You have to help us out here, sister. Is that your bike back there on the side of the road?”
She stared at them a moment, then shifted into motion again, weaving through them to continue her plodding course in the same direction she’d been walking. The six men looked at each other a moment before Arsen strode after her, gently pulling her to a stop again.
“Hey,” he said softly, stepping around in front of her. “You can’t walk out here. You’ll die of heat stroke. Can you tell me your name? Where you came from?”
“Should we call the police and have them deal with her?” Zane asked.
“Are you crazy?” Chet barked. “Have you forgotten what’s on the bikes? It would be our luck the officer they send will have a dog.”
“We can’t leave her out here!” Zane snapped. “Arsen’s right. She’ll die, or worse.”
“Fine. But let’s get the fuck away from here then call the cops.”
As Chet and Zane bickered, Arsen held her gaze, trying to see a spark of life, of anything, in her eyes, but they were completely blank. “We’ll take her to the next gas station,” he proclaimed, putting an end to the discussion. “We’ll drop her there, so at least she won’t collapse from the heat, then we’ll call the cops and let them know where she is.” Chet made a “there you go” gesture at Arsen and grinned.
“We’re going to take you someplace cool, then get you some help, okay?” Arsen said, but the woman showed no signs of understanding. He took her by the hand and steered her to his motorcycle. He turned her loose at the side then mounted, waiting for her to get on. She stood still a moment then turned and began to walk again.
“Somebody help her out,” Arsen said.
“Here,” Zane said, pulling the woman back to Arsen’s Indian. “Can you get on here?” When the woman didn’t move, he patted the seat. “Come on. We know you can ride a bike.”
“Fuck it,” Berk said, nudging Zane aside. He started to pick the woman up and place her on the bike, but the moment his hands touched her waist, she exploded into motion. She drove an elbow hard back, catching Berk on the chin, then lunged away from his grip, crashing into Arsen.
He didn’t expect the collision, and nearly dumped his bike. The woman bounced off him, then whirled, her hands coming up like claws as she crouched and slowly backed away from the men.
“You bitch!” Berk roared, spitting a thick mass of blood onto the ground. He stepped in and grabbed her, hauling her back to him, wrapping her up in a bear like embrace, holding her hands, then roared in pain as she bit down hard on the meaty part of his hand.
“Goddamnit! Let her go!” Arsen roared.
Berk let her go and backed away hissing in pain, holding his bleeding hand. “Fuck! I’m probably going to need rabies shots!”
“Let her go!” Arsen snarled as the Blades began to close around her. “If she doesn’t want to go, she can fucking fry for all I care. Berk! How’s the hand?”
“Hurts like a bitch! She tried to bite my fucking hand off!”
“Jesus! You’re bleeding like a stuck pig!” Casey said as he looked Berk’s hand over. “Stitches for sure.”
“I’m going to kick that bitch’s ass,” he snarled.
“We don’t have time for this shit!” Arsen snapped. He turned his attention back to the woman. “You want to die out here? Fine! Fucking walk until you drop!”
The woman looked at him then turned and began to walk. He watched her a moment, then stepped off his bike. “Jesus, Berk!” Arsen said as he looked at Berk’s blood covered hand, lurid red drips falling off his fingertips to the ground.
“Yeah.” Berk grimaced as Casey wrapped a bandana around his mangled hand, cinching it tight to try and stop the bleeding.
“You good to ride?”
“Yeah. Just keep that crazy bitch away from me.”
“You should head back to the clubhouse and have Doc Holiday take a look at that,” Arsen suggested.
“Fuck that! I’ve had bitches bite my dick harder than that.”
The five brothers chuckled. Berk was playing the tough guy now, but they’d seen how much he was hurting when he was still in shock from having the small woman bite the shit out of him. “Have it your way,” Arsen grinned. “Let’s get out of here.”
The six Blades began to mount up, their bikes rumbling into life. Arsen was the last to thumb his ride to life, and as he kicked the stand up, he noticed the woman had stopped walking and was looking at them. He was just about to ease out of the clutch and pull back onto the interstate when she turned and started walking back toward them. He waited to see what she would do. It took her a moment to close the distance back to them, but she stopped and smoothly swung a leg over Arsen’s bike and settled in. She moved easily, clearly comfortable on the back of a bike.
Arsen looked back over his shoulder at his brothers, one eye squinted as his lips crooked sideway, then chuckled when Zane shrugged. With a shake of his head, he checked traffic then gave the big Indian the beans and surged out onto the interstate.
***
It would have taken her four hours to walk to the nearest convenience store with a dozen gas pumps. On the bikes, they covered it in ten minutes.
“Go inside and somebody can help you get your motorcycle,” Arsen said to the woman as his Indian idled. She didn’t move, sitting perfectly still in the saddle. With a sigh, he killed the engine. How was he going to get her off his bike without her biting a chunk out of someone again?
The moment the engine fell silent, she stepped off. Holding the bike between his knees, he rose and pulled his money clip from his pocket and peeled off two twenties. He pressed the bills into her hand. “Go inside and get something to drink, okay? Then have someone take you to your bike. It has enough gas to get here. You have enough there for gas.”
He may have as well been talking to the wall. With a shrug he thumbed his ride to life. Before he could snick the bike into gear, she swung her leg over the saddle and settled. He could hear his brothers chuckling. With a grin he killed the bike, and she immediately got off.
“Look,” he sighed. “You’ll be okay here. We’re going to call the cops and tell them you’re here. They can get you some help. Just go inside and buy yourself something cold to drink.” When she didn’t respond, he pressed the starter button again, putting out a hand to hold her back from mounting.
As expected, the woman tried to mount his bike again, but when he blocked her, she began to keen, a soft, inhuman sound of fear and grief. He released her to free his clutch hand, and as soon as he did, she started to mount his bike again. Again he blocked her, and again she wailed, louder this time.
“Somebody help me out!” he barked.
Zane chuckled, then stepped off his bike and took her by the arm to pull her gently away. “Come on, let’s go inside.”
She grabbed Arsen’s hand in a death grip, wailing as Zane gently restrained her. Arsen tried to pull his arm back, but she wouldn’t let go. The harder he pulled, the more she struggled. Twice, she almost yanked him off his bike.
“Damnit!” Arsen snarled, killing his bike and leaning it over. He stepped off and gently pried her fingers from his arm, but she was like a Velcro cat. He would get her hands loose from one place and she would grab another, keening her heartbreaking wail the entire time. After three of those he was about ready to punch her lights out. He was trying to be gentle with her because she’d obviously been abused, but enough was enough.
Zane finally wrenched her away and gave her a shove. She stumbled away then turned to face them, the two twenties falling from her hand. A tear was running down her cheek, but the pain and fear that had come into her face as she held him was gone. She was a zombie again.
He turned and mounted up. He watched her as he thumbed his bike to life, half expecting her to try to mount up behind him again, but she just stood here, her face and eyes totally blank. He kicked the bike into gear but didn’t release the clutch.
“Fuck!” he snarled. “Get on!”
“What?” Chet yelped. “We can’t take her with us!”
She made no move, so he put the bike back into neutral and held out his hand. “If you’re coming get on. Otherwise I’ll leave your ass here.”
He was reaching for the clutch again when she stepped forward and mounted up behind him. He knew this was a stupid idea, but he knew in his gut if they were to leave her now, she would die. The only sign of life she’d shown since they stopped on side of the road was the fear and pain as she cried out softly when she thought they were going to leave her.
“You know this is a bad idea, right?” Zane asked as he eased up beside them.
“Yeah. Grab the money, will you?”
He nodded. “So long as you know.”