The Highwaymen were everything to me. They had been then and they still were, and the goddamned apocalypse bullshit had ruined us. Turned us against each other and then torn us limb from limb, bloody body parts scattered as we destroyed each other.
But this, this was good. Maybe—at least after I destroyed the Rejects’ compound and took out the bad seeds of their club—maybe things could get back to what they had been. Back to the brotherhood and the bikes and the beer. I’d have Nina—my woman, my club, and my brothers, and the hell that I’d just lived through those past years, it would be over.
I was so lost in my own musings that I didn’t notice right away when Butcher came over and handed me a whiskey.
“Thanks,” I said with a nod.
He clinked his own glass with mine and we both swigged our drinks.
A foul smell was emanating from him and I gave him a sideways glance. “How’s the arm doing?”
He laughed darkly. “It’s rotting,” he said. “Can’t you smell it?”
I turned to him, my eyes glancing over the space where his arm should have been. “I was bein’ polite.”
Butcher laughed even more at that, attracting the attention of some of the brothers around us. “The fearless Shooter James—” I glared at him but he only laughed harder. “The famous and fearless Shooter James bein’ polite? Nah, that makes no sense.” He took a long swallow of his drink.
I sighed. “You know you’re dyin’, right?” I said, bluntly. I never did have the best bedside manner, and the apocalypse hadn’t changed that about me.
“Well, I’m guessing that since I’ve been seeing double on and off for the past twenty-four hours, I’ve got a fever of a hundred and one, and I’m pissin’ blood. I’m guessing that it doesn’t mean I’m A-o-fuckin’-kay.” He threw the rest of the clear liquid that was in his glass to the back of his throat and swallowed. “Shit happens. I just need to make sure that my club’s gonna be okay before my time comes, and that means sending these bitches to ground. You feel me?”
I nodded. “I feel you.”
We lapsed into silence while we watched everyone work. The men were working hard, building weapons, fixing bridges, mending the rifts that had separated our clubs for years. It was a beautiful thing to see.
“They’re gonna need you,” Butcher said. “After I’m gone, when all this shit is done with. They’re gonna need a leader.”
“They’ll have Drag, right? Ain’t that the plan?”
He patted me on the shoulder and started to walk away from me before looking back over his shoulder, a dark look in his eye that spoke more volumes than an amp on full blast. “I think we both know that ain’t the plan, Prez.”
I didn’t know what to make of that, or him. I guess it didn’t really matter though: nothing had changed. The plan was already in motion, and from the looks of it, Butcher was ready to let it happen.
The Rejects were going down, and I was going to take back what was mine.
Once and for all.
Chapter Twenty-One
Mikey
“Aaah shit,” I muttered as I paced my cell. “Aaah, shit!”
Should I just make a run for it now? I could pick that lock in five seconds flat, and maybe I could find my own way out of here before they found me. I’d only have to get out of the cell before they reached it, though going off the sound of their footsteps right outside the door, my moment had passed.
“Shit.”
The key in the door squeaked and I stepped to the back of the cell, dragging my hands through my unruly hair as I watched the door swing open.
“Pet, it’s time to play.” Aife’s voice cut through the tension of my cell, and her gaze pinned me in place. “Have you been waiting patiently?”
I stared at her, my voice stuck in my throat as I waited for her to realize that Drag wasn’t in there anymore. There was no point in arguing or fighting; behind her stood four other Savages, all heavily armed, so there was no way out of the situation. And I couldn’t exactly be like “Drag? Drag who? I was here all alone!”
No, I had to just wait for the next few seconds to pass and for her to see. And then…and then I was a dead man. Deader than dead. I was food.
My stomach turned when I thought about Butcher and what they did to him. How they cut him up piece by piece. Would he still be alive if I hadn’t gotten him out of there? And if so, how much of him would be left?
My stomach turned again.
Sweat trailed down the sides of my face, and I gritted my teeth and glared at her, wondering how I had ended up there. Hell, how she had ended up here.
There was no denying that Aife scared the crap out of me; I’d seen what she could and would do. But worse, she was a beautiful woman, clearly smart, and had a knack for leading, so how on God’s earth had she ended up like that—dealing in bodies and blood at the end of the world? It wasn’t exactly the sort of thing you stumbled into.
She came forward, moving closer to me, though the other Savages stayed in the doorway, partially hidden by shadows. Her hand reached out and slid down my cheek, and I shivered under her touch. I expected her to feel cold, like a piece of dead flesh, but she was surprisingly warm, her skin soft, even. Her hand moved lower, down my chin and over my chest, her gaze still pinning me to the wall like an invisible nail.
“You’re very quiet,” she cooed, and I nodded. Her smile deepened. “I like my pets to have spirit. Do you still have your spirit?”
Do I have spirit? Fuck, what is she talking about now?
I mean, I had spirit at one time; the desire to live, to fight, to prove my worth, to war against the changing of the tides just for the damn hell of it. Because that was who I was. But now? Who knew. All I really knew was that I was just trying to make it through each day. One sunset at a time, because that was all we could ever really rely on in the world now: the sunset and the sunrise. So there I was, just biding my time, waiting for each sunrise and hoping to survive for each new sunset. I had thought for a while that there was more to the world than just that, but I knew now that I was wrong. That some things came into your life pretending to be more than they were, giving you more of a reason to live than just because you weren’t dead yet. But they left just as damn quickly too. Now I was just a shell of a man, moving through each day one breath at a time. Living through the motions and struggling to survive with my sanity intact.
So my spirit? I wasn’t sure that had survived. And I was damn certain my sanity hadn’t.
She ran her hand ran over my stomach, her fingertips dipping under the hem of my T-shirt so that her nails could graze along my bare skin. My stomach muscles tensed against her touch, my teeth gritting. All I could think of doing was not punching this psycho bitch in the face, when really, all I wanted to do was punch this psycho bitch in the face and get her away from me. But that was a sure fire way to get myself chopped up into little Mikey pieces so I gritted my teeth and restrained myself.
“Yes, I still think you have spirit.” She turned to look at the other Savages before giving them a quick nod. “I have a gift for you, pet.”
I held her stare as the other women dragged in someone. My gaze finally left hers to look, and I wished I hadn’t bothered. Drag was covered in so much blood that I wasn’t even sure if he was alive or dead anymore. His body was limp, lifeless, just the red of his blood pouring from both his ears and nose. I couldn’t see if his eyes were open or closed; everything about his face was a bloody, meaty pulp. So much so that I gagged.
Aife turned to look back at me as they let go of Drag. He fell to the cell floor with a heavy thud.
“Looks delicious, right?” Aife purred, and the other Savages chuckled.
Drag groaned, and I realized he was alive. Wasn’t entirely sure how I felt about that, since he’d done nothing but make the situation worse so far, and by the looks of him right then he wasn’t going to be any good in helping me get out of there anymore.
“You found him,” I said bluntly to Aife. No p
oint in denying the fact that I knew he was gone, since he was a bloody mess in front of us.
Before I could say or think anything else, her hand came up and slapped me so hard across the face that I tasted blood in my mouth. I gritted my teeth and my nostrils flared as I sucked in a deep breath, forcing myself to keep my damn mouth shut since it wouldn’t do me any good to argue with that psycho right then.
Aife’s eyes flashed at me like she was pleased by my decision to keep my trap shut. “It’s a good thing I like spirit, Mikey. Otherwise it would be a much more painful ending for you than the one I have planned.” Aife walked over to Drag, who was still on the ground, and swung her booted foot back, kicking him in the ribs. He didn’t groan or cry out, and I figured that maybe he’d passed out or something. Man didn’t look like he was in good shape at all.
Probably best if he did pass out, because he looked like he was in a whole world of pain and would be for the foreseeable future.
“Now, I have to go clean up his mess.” She kicked him again and his body curled into a ball, making me realize that he was just too stubborn to cry out. He didn’t want her to have the satisfaction of knowing that she was hurting him.
Drag had serious fucking spirit. I could see why Aife had liked him so much.
“Aife, we have to go,” one of the Savage women said, and Aife nodded in agreement.
“Yes, we need to finish what we started, don’t we. They will be waiting.” She stalked towards the door, her boots echoing in the small space. She turned in the doorway to look at me, the shadows from the lanterns darkening her features. “Have fun,” she cooed.
She started to pull the door closed and I took a step forward, my body suddenly free of the magnets that were holding it to the wall.
“Why?” I asked, my voice sounding like it was coming from someone else.
“Why what?” she asked, a smile rising to her face because she clearly knew exactly what I was asking.
“Why are you leaving him here? Why not just kill him—kill me, and get it over with? I mean, it’s what you’re going to do anyway, right?”
“Are you asking me to kill you, pet? Are you really giving up so easily?” Her smile fell, her eyes narrowing in on me as she tutted.
“No,” I bit out. “I’d just rather get to the fighting part.”
Aife started to laugh. “See? Spirit!”
I smiled at her. “Sure, spirit. But you still didn’t answer my question.”
She sighed heavily. “Because, pet, it makes me happy to see you suffer. It makes me happy to see you all suffer. I like to watch others’ pain and to know that I am the one to issue it. To order it. To decide it. I am the one in charge and I like people to know that. Plus”—she grinned again—“flesh tastes better when it’s soaked in fear. And when I devour you, I’ll dream about it for years to come.” She licked her lips and started to laugh.
I shook my head, anger burning my veins. “You’re sick, you know that?”
Aife laughed loudly. “Try to survive the night,” she said, “and if you do, we’ll see about making you my pet again. I was so looking forward to playing with you.” And then she left, slamming the door closed behind her, the metal groaning at the impact.
I stared at the closed door, listening to the sounds of their footsteps walking away as I thought about my next move. Drag was in real bad shape, and by the sounds of his labored breathing, if I didn’t keep him alive or get myself the fuck out of there, so was I. Because if he died, he’d turn, and if he turned I’d be locked in that hellhole with a deader and no way to fight it off.
“You gonna help a brother up or what?” Drag groaned from the floor.
I looked down at him as he rolled onto his back, coughing out a mouthful of blood for his efforts. He swiped a hand gingerly across his face, coming away with a handful of blood.
I moved to him, bending down and gripping him under the arms and dragging him to lean up against the wall. He coughed up some more blood, which splattered the front of my shirt, and he smiled at me with bloody teeth.
“So what’s the verdict? Am I still pretty?” He chuckled darkly.
His eyes were swollen almost completely closed and his right cheekbone was so out of shape I wasn’t sure how his face was still recognizable.
He reached up to his cut pocket and pulled out his cigarettes. Opening the packet, he pulled one out and put it to his lips before fumbling with his matches. His hands were shaking, and he didn’t seem to have the strength to strike the match, so I took them from him, grabbing myself a cigarette at the same time.
I lit his and then mine, and he nodded his thanks and then I slid down the wall next to him. We sat in silence barring his pained breathing and the sound of us smoking. When we’d finished our cigarettes, he threw his still lit butt across the cell and leaned his head back.
“God, I hate that bitch. Sure gives a mean blowjob though.” He turned his head to look at me, flashing me a bloody grin. “She was all teeth, if ya know what I mean,” he chuckled, snapping his teeth at me. “Makes sense now when I think about it.”
I let out a small rumble of laughter. “That’s fucked up.”
“Ya think?” He wiped a hand across his bloody mouth. “Fuck, everything hurts, man.”
I hadn’t noticed he had an arm wrapped around his middle until then, and I swallowed as I moved my gaze back to his face.
“Bitch got me good, brother,” he said. “Caught me red-handed near the armory. Guess I’m not as good a thief as you, huh?” And for the first time since I’d known him I saw the flash of vulnerability on his face. Pain, worry, shame all crashing together to create a snowstorm of emotions. “But I got your back,” he laughed, and closed his eyes before leaning his head back against the wall. “I got your back, don’t you worry bout that. My brothers are coming. I just need to rest my eyes for a quick minute, get my energy back and shit, okay?”
I waited silently to see if he was going to say anything else, but when he didn’t I started to panic. “Drag? Drag, man, what do you mean?” I shook him gently, but there was still nothing. “Drag?”
His eyes were closed, his body still, and I realized that he’d either just died or he’d fallen asleep. I hoped it was the latter as I shook him some more.
“Drag? Come on, man.”
He let out a soft snore and I breathed a sigh of relief. Well, at least he wasn’t dead yet. I dragged a hand down my face. What the hell was I going to do now? And how in God’s name did he fall asleep like that? I was pretty sure that if I ever made it out of that nightmare I wouldn’t ever sleep again.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Mikey
My skin felt clammy and hot, and I rolled my shoulders and shifted my position. My thoughts on what the hell Aife was going to do with us were sending me crazy.
I looked down at Drag for what felt like the hundredth time in the past thirty minutes, give or take. I wasn’t sure if Drag was going to make it. He’d fallen unconscious within minutes of being dragged into the cell and had been out since.
I’d listened at the door, hearing the soft movements of at least one Savage woman standing guard. I was pretty sure she’d left a few minutes before, though. An alarm had sounded from somewhere deep within the tunnels of the place. The alarm had eventually gone silent, but I’d heard nothing since then, and I could only hope that it was, like Drag had said, his brothers come to save us. Now it was just a matter of them finding us.
It was dark in our cell but there was enough light to be able to see that he was a mess. A real goddamned mess. And if he died while trapped in that room with me…it didn’t bear thinking about what would happen next. I had no weapons to defend myself with, and the only thing I could think of doing was trying to escape.
I stared at him, watching his chest rising and falling. His shallow breathing was the only reason I hadn’t left yet. That and the deep-seated fear that maybe the Rejects hadn’t come to save Drag and the alarm had all been a trick. I could leave the room, g
et lost in the tunnels or found by one of the Savages, and then what? Or worse…they had come for him, and if I left without him they’d gun me down for leaving him. Either way I was dead.
So I stayed, waiting patiently for a damn sign to tell me what to do for the best. Leaving Drag there while he was still alive—no matter how barely he was clinging on—just didn’t sit well with me. You think things like that won’t bother you, that you can just walk away from your humanity, leaving it at the door to rot, but it’s times like that that you realize you can’t.
Your humanity is part of who you are. It’s what separates us from the monsters—both dead and alive. And to walk away from that is to walk away from life. Because on the other side of life there is only blackness—death.
Drag coughed in his sleep, his arm tightening around his waist. A small puddle had formed underneath him when he’d first fallen asleep, though wherever he was bleeding from seemed to have stopped, thankfully. I hadn’t looked at the damage yet, too shit-scared that he’d wake up as a monster and try to chew my damned face off. But curiosity finally got the better of me, and despite my better judgment I leaned over, my hand gently plucking his own hand away from his stomach and moving it to one side. A dark stain covered his stomach, a rotten stench coming from within him. I moved closer, pulling the edge of his T-shirt up to reveal a mess of blood and dark, burnt flesh.
I frowned and leaned over him to get a better look, thinking perhaps I could wrap his stomach wound up with some material, but as I got closer I saw the real damage.
It wasn’t a stomach wound he had, but a big gaping hole. The soft glisten of blood, guts, and burnt flesh shone in the dim light, and I flinched and dropped his tee back in place.
“Shit,” I whispered. That wasn’t good, not good at all. That wasn’t something I could wrap up and hope for the best for. It was a full-on stomach-hanging-out, dying-with-every-breath mess. “Shit,” I said again, my hand going to my mouth to seal the words in.
The Dead Saga (Book 6): Odium VI Page 18