Warriors (Gutter Dogs Book 5)

by Carey Lewis

  “If you can call him that. Been moved.”

  “Moved to where?”

  “That we’re not sure of. Looks like he got shot here, see that splatter over there? Going theory is he was shot here, moved somewhere, and then brought back.”

  “Why would they bring him back? Why move him in the first place?”

  “Maybe he was in a talking mood before. It’s not so much as the ‘why’ as the ‘who.’”

  Jamal stood up, “Black Knights?”

  “That’s what we’re thinking. We come up, coming across the park, see this dude looks like he runs kid gunners in Africa standing up here. That’s their look, the Black Knights.”

  “Caught him dropping off the body.”

  “Or he was getting a closer look. Anyways, you say you got a killed kid was in a gang, thought you might want to see this.”

  “I appreciate it,” Jamal looked out at the park. “He was speaking,” and then he saw the guy dressed like a cowboy - the one that came in to The Boss’s office, staring up at them. Then he saw Ray navigating his way to them, climbing up the rocks.

  “Big gang meeting, but no way he’s speaking without the Black Knights giving him the go ahead.”

  “On my way here, dispatch tries to figure out a call they got, you hear that?” Jamal said.

  Ritchie shook his head.

  “Kids call in say they got beat up and their cars and woman were stolen. Dispatch says she doesn’t know who to send, no one stole the cars, just put them in drive, made the kids chase them down the street.”

  “The woman was stolen?”

  “She talks to the kids a bit more finds out the woman left on her own. Walked away with the guys sent the cars down the street.”

  “I don’t think they’re connected to this. It’s a stretch.”

  “I don’t think they’re connected either, just thinking it’s a weird night.”

  Ray was with them now, introduced himself to Ritchie, “sorry I’m late. Wife put on one of those makeover shows.”

  “The one with the house?” Ritchie asked.

  “Started with that one, went to some real wives thing. Knocks me out every time. Your informant work out?”

  “Not much, no,” Jamal said.

  “They got this channel now,” Ritchie said, “it’s all about building and repair. Has a show about a guy, goes around showing you how he’s building shit so you can do it yourself, add value to your home.”

  “Think they skim over that part too much on the home show my wife watches.”

  “That’s what I like about this other one. Guy shows you the cuts he’s making, tells you why he’s making them. You know that shit under a deck is called a joist? Learned that from this guy.”

  “No shit huh?”

  “I’m going to talk to the cowboy,” Jamal said and climbed down the rocks.

  “You got guns in there?” Jamal looked at Cowboy’s duster.

  He nodded, said “Boss wants this over. He dead?”

  “Just about.”

  “Boss wants him dead.”

  “I don’t see him living through the night. Boss thinks I’m going to plug him in front of everyone then… I don’t know, it’s pretty fucking stupid, I’m not his hit man.” Jamal was having a hard time thinking.

  “Black Knights?”

  “No one knows where they are, but they’re not here so you should look some place else. We all want this over.”

  Cowboy stared at him. Jamal wondered how long he practiced the squint. Wondered if he stood in the mirror trying different looks until he got the one he liked.

  “Who shot him?”

  “Someone that was here but isn’t anymore be my guess.”

  It brought a smile and a slight chuckle from Cowboy. He lit his cigarillo, said “we want the same thing Jamal. Don’t go making enemies of friends,” then turned and walked away through the park.

  Jamal climbed back up the rocks to Ray and Ritchie, talking about some girl named Joyce. Ritchie said, “come on, I’ll show you the other body.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  “I think I know that guy,” Bulldog said, watching Jamal park his car. They were hiding behind the trees across the street from the parking lot. From here, they watched the giant fight sprawl across the park and into the road. Then they watched these costumed people continue fighting as the cop cars came skidding in, throwing gravel from their tires.

  Most of the brawlers had run by then, others stayed. Even with the red and blue lights splashing around, the squawk of the sirens announcing their arrival. Even watching the cops flood into the park, these guys had to get their last punch in.

  Now Bulldog and Mick were with some of the others that had been in the park, all hiding behind the trees and bushes, watching the scene, hoping to see some buddies come out of the park to tell them what was going on.

  “You know a cop?”

  “He wasn’t a cop when I knew him. Was one of the ones that got me fired that first time. He works for The Boss now I think.”

  Mick took a drink from his flask.

  “You want to share that?”

  Mick looked over and saw a guy wearing a hockey mask, hiding behind a bush, holding his hand out.

  “Oh, what the fuck are you?”

  “I’m Jason, this is Michael,” he gestured beside him to a guy wearing a Michael Myers mask. “We’re Port Party Massacre. Who you with?”

  “We’re normal.”

  “Never heard of you.”

  “This whole thing you do, what’s it for?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Is it like a role playing thing? Sexual? What?”

  “We’re in a gang man.”

  “Can’t get it up unless you’re in a costume?”

  “You want to continue this conversation?” the one with the Michael Myers mask asked, showing a machete in his belt.

  “What’s wrong with you people?”

  Mick got an elbow from Bulldog, telling him to look. They watched the motorcycle come down the road and turn into the parking lot.

  “That’s a Triumph Rocket Three Roadster,” Bulldog said.

  “Since when do you know bikes?”

  “Since my balls dropped, kid.”

  They watched Cowboy get off the bike and saunter into the park.

  “You were right, he’s pretty fucking cool.”

  “Didn’t I tell you?”

  “These guys over here got a machete. A fucking machete.”

  Bulldog pulled out his cell phone and dialed The Boss. He told him Jamal was there, the Cowboy just joined him, and some kids wearing Halloween masks had a machete. He listened, waited, then hung up.

  Mick elbowed Bulldog this time, getting his attention. Mick was staring off into the forest. When Bulldog looked, through the trees in the distance, he saw a clown staring back at them.

  “See, now that’s scary,” Bulldog turned to the Port Party people, “look, you guys see that?”

  They all turned to see the clown Bulldog was pointing at.

  “He’s by himself, that makes it scary, just staring at you like that. Not asking for a swig from a strangers flask. All you guys together look like a virgin convention.”

  “We’re waiting to see if Chucky’s okay,” Jason said.

  “The kids doll? You guys hire a midget for that or just get lucky and made a friend?”

  Michael brought the machete all the way out of his belt.

  “Yeah, machete, we get it. Big bad machete.”

  “It’s not the size of the blade, it’s the slice of the knife,” Mick said and they started laughing. Mick said, “I just made that up,” and they laughed harder.

  Michael took a step toward them, about to swing.

  “Easy Mikey,” Bulldog said, showing them the gun he had tucked in his belt. “We see a midget come out of there, we’ll send him your way so go find Freddy or something.”

  “He’s in there too.”

  Mick and Bulldog looked at each other,
then back to Jason and Michael.

  “Well shit, him I’d like to see,” Mick said.

  “It’s the way Mesiah gets his message out, what he wants. He calls Asteria, tells her what he wants done, she puts it into code and puts it on the air.”

  “No shit?”

  Catharine nodded. It blew Cochise’s mind.

  “I’ve been listening to her for years. Shit, Cleon, how many hidden messages you think we heard?”

  But Cleon wasn’t paying attention as they walked down the empty street. He kicked a can for awhile but seemed to have given that up. Now Cochise was walking over to him, doing the consoling thing again.

  “You don’t even care,” Cleon said, pushing him away.

  “We don’t know he’s dead.”

  “I saw it Cochise. I saw him die. We all did.”

  “He was done with us anyway,” Ajax said. “He didn’t invite us, the Lex guy did, his new best friend.”

  “What do you care? Your brother’s in that gang.”

  “So?”

  “So? You have a gang.”

  “Fuck you Cleon, I’m a Bopper,” Ajax said, coming at Cleon with Cochise stepping between them.

  “There is no Boppers. They’re Boppers. We’re just rejects in plaid.” Cleon ripped the plaid shirt off his body and threw it to the ground.

  “You just bought that,” Cochise said.

  “It’s worthless.”

  “You should do that too,” Catharine said to Cochise.

  “No one’s Boppers other than us here,” Ajax said.

  “Oh yeah? Where’s Snow? Where is he Ajax?”

  “Cochise, take off your plaid.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “That’s what they’re looking for. Asteria said the guys in plaid.”

  “When did she say that?”

  “Snow’s dead. He’s dead because he was a Bopper. Because of me,” Cleon said.

  “He believed in something.”

  “He’s dead because of it. You said it yourself, Cyrus didn’t want us anymore.”

  “Cyrus wasn’t a Bopper. We are.”

  “Cochise, take off the plaid.”

  “I don’t know.”

  They didn’t hear the roar of the motorbikes with their arguing. Didn’t even notice them until Blade put on his headlights, shining right into their faces.

  “You guys are cute. Little lovers spat?”

  They tried to cover their eyes with their hands, five headlights shining at them.

  “Saint Catharine, that you?”

  “Hey Blade. That Tiny there?”

  “Who’re these guys?” asked Cleon.

  It was the Satan’s Sons. Unlike the other gangs, these guys were in their thirties and forties, big and bulky bikers that liked to use chains and other blunt instruments. The exception being Blade because of his preference for a switchblade.

  “Why do people call you a saint?” asked Cochise.

  “Yeah baby girl, how you been?” Tiny said.

  “Got Wheezy here too, you remember Wheezy?” Blade asked.

  She did. She didn’t want to, but she did. Catharine remembered them all.

  “What’re you guys doing Blade?”

  “Got to take your friends in. Mesiah asking for them. They going to come?”

  “Why’s Mesiah want us?” Cochise asked.

  “He thinks you did it,” Catharine said.

  “Did what, kill Cyrus? Why would we kill Cyrus?”

  “Saint Catharine, you coming with them?” That name again, ‘saint.’

  “We’re going home,” Ajax said, taking a step forward.

  “You’re not the lady we were talking to bushy top.”

  “Neither are you,” Ajax said. “The lady I was talking to I mean. Was talking to the one behind you.”

  Blade looked to the biker behind him, “You talking about Swamp?”

  “Not a good looking one anyway. Probably your type.”

  Blade chuckled as Swamp got off his bike and started walking toward Ajax, dragging the chain on the ground behind him.

  “Why don’t you ask your girl there what type I have,” Blade said.

  The lead pipe slid into Ajax’s palm, just peeking out of his sleeve.

  Catharine was pulling on Cochise’s sleeve, urging him away. Cleon took a step closer to Ajax then said to Cochise quietly, “take the girl,” and they backed off a little more.

  “You’re not going to drive around? Circle us so we don’t run off?”

  “That what you want kid?”

  “Be kind of cool, yeah,” Cleon said.

  Blade raised his arm, made a circle motion and the motorbikes revved to life. They started driving around in a circle with Ajax, Cleon, and Swamp inside it. The bikers laughed as they did their laps.

  “You guys have a plan for this?” Catharine asked. When Cochise shrugged, she wasn’t filled with confidence. She watched the bikers circle around them, getting faster and the laughter growing louder. Watched as Swamp started swinging his chain around, playing with them, having fun.

  “When it happens, we run,” Cochise said.

  “What what happens?”

  Swamp was closing in on Ajax, backing up, getting closer and closer to the biker perimeter. He was getting so close that the bikers took to flipping his hair with their hands as they drove by.

  “Maybe I should go with them, do a trade?” Catharine said. “You guys for me.”

  “You ready?” Cochise asked. It confused her.

  Then she saw Cleon nod to Ajax. Ajax dropped to his knees, had something silver in his hand and he stuck it in the front of one of the tires. She saw the biker fly over his handlebars, through the air, over a car, roll on the sidewalk and slam against a building.

  When everyone was distracted by the flying biker, she saw Cleon run up to Swamp and kick him as hard as he could in the crotch. Then she saw them run off.

  Then Cochise was pulling her, making her run off in a different direction.

  Jesus Christ, seeing that boy shot like that while he was holding him. Seeing that gun pointed right at him, seeing down the barrel, seeing it explode. He thought he was dead when he saw that flash, surprised when he wasn’t.

  And just to test the theory, the barrel exploded again.

  He didn’t want to test his luck a third time so he let go of Snow and ran. That thump he heard when the bullet entered that boy’s chest.

  When he saw the gun he knew something bad was about to happen, but he didn’t know Lex had gone that crazy. Getting his brother to go too, with his friends? What was he thinking shooting Cyrus up there, then trying to shoot him? Dax was certain Lex had a death wish about him.

  As he ran off, in the corner of his eye he saw someone else drop, saw the black figure fall to the ground. He thought it was a member of the Cyber Punks and they’d been chasing him ever since, yelling at Dax saying he did it. It made thinking hard to do.

  He ran with them following him. Followed him over the fence, through the roads in the refinery there, over the other fence, down the dirt road. Shit, how much stamina did these guys have for people that sat in front of computers all day?

  Dax would have to stop soon and then they’d have him. This all Asian gang that dressed like they were in The Matrix. They had to know kung-fu type shit too because of that damn movie.

  He thought of doubling back, making a wide turn, end up coming through the patch of trees that sat on the other side of the park, bring them right back and throw himself into the arms of a cop. Cops had to be there by now. Matrix the law, bitch. But he couldn’t. They’d be looking for him for what happened to Zax, charge him as an accessory or something. Those shows on TV, the cops always say if you’re there and watch it, you might as well have pulled the trigger yourself.

  But they also tell the guy if he flips on his partner he’s in the clear. You don’t know what you can trust on TV.

  His lungs were on fire. Too much smoking and pot. The only thing that kept him going was
his fear of kung-fu. What stopped him though was his legs, giving out like they did. Just as well, he wasn’t sure where he was running to.

  He tumbled, end over end along the dirt until he was face down. He rolled over onto his back and that was as much movement as his body could handle. He laid there, staring at the stars, hearing the running footsteps slow to a walk as the Cyber Punks caught up to him. Heard their heavy breathing, a couple of them trying to talk between gasps of air. He waited for the beating he was about to take.

  But it didn’t come.

  He was surprised he just wanted to get it over with. He raised his head, saw three of them with their shiny trench coats, all gasping for breath. One was bent over on his knees, the other was laying down, and the third one had his hands on his head, walking in circles.

  “Why’d you run so far?” the one that called himself Case said. They named themselves after authors or characters in the cyber genre. Along with Case, Dax recognized Orwell and Sterling.

  “Seemed like the thing to do,” Dax said. He looked around, wondered where he could run, a way to escape. There were some houses ahead. If he could make it there, he could cut through the backyards, go down the ditch on the other side, cut across the road and get to the walking bridge that ran over the canal if the lock was closed.

  “What’d you do to Cadigan?” Orwell asked, the one bent over on his knees.

  “Nothing.”

  “You stab him or something?”

  “You don’t know?”

  “You ran by and he dropped so we went after you. Deckard’s back with him now, taking him out before the cops come, seeing if he’s okay.”

  “I didn’t do shit to your boy. I got shot at, he might’ve got shot.”

  Case lowered his hands from his head, started bopping up and down like a fighter in the ring. “Get up,” he said.

  “It was you that shot him,” Sterling said, getting off the ground. “Someone yelled it was the Boppers and you ran.”

  “I’m not a Bopper,” Dax said.

  “Wearing their colors.”

  Dax looked down at the plaid shirt he was wearing. “It’s complicated.”

  “Boppers shot him, you took out Cadigan, get up,” Case said.

  Dax struggled to get to his feet. As soon as he did he got a heel to the jaw he didn’t see coming. He just saw Case spin and felt the heel and now he was on the ground again.