by J. C. Allen
No one had left since Tyler. Morale, despite the deaths at the neighborhood, seemed quite high. The worst it ever got was when someone complained about not getting the meat lovers pizza at the memorial at the shop afterward, and that just drew laughs instead of anger and fights.
Truly, things were looking good at the shop.
Which means we’re probably about to see something ugly from Roost.
“Look who finally showed up,” Roost said, a large smile on his face as he stood up. “Ya made it in, big boss! Why, ya barely slept past noon!”
“Yeah, yeah,” I said, waving a dismissive hand at him and his sarcasm. “So, what’s this business you’ve found? How bad is it?”
“Like I said over the phone, numb-nuts, I’m not sure,” Roost said, pulling out a tall stack of papers. “Ya think I make shit up to see yer ugly mug?”
“All that?” I asked, feeling dread begin to fill my stomach.
Something told me this wasn’t good news.
“Yep,” Roost said, all sarcasm and joking vanishing.
From the grim expression on Roost’s face, I suddenly didn’t want to know what was on those papers. A not-so-small part of me wanted to turn, run, and never look back. I wasn’t going to, of course, but…
Three weeks, I thought. All we got was three weeks…
I should’ve remembered that Roost liked to undersell things on the phone to get me to the office. God, fucking, damnit.
I shook my head subtly, stopping those thoughts from snaking their way back inside. I had to be strong, not just for me anymore. For Eve, for Roost, for all of the Saviors. No more “small part of me.” I had to be all in.
“Might as well lay it out, it ain’t good,” Roost said. “I won’t sugarcoat it, but… but it might lead to somethin’. I just don’t know yet. Eve, ya might not wanna look at this part. It… it ain’t pretty.”
“I’ll be fine,” Eve said.
I spotted a look of stoic determination on her face. She wanted to be strong for me as well. Queen of the Savage Saviors. Certainly playing the part.
I took her hand in mine, giving it a gentle squeeze as I gave a nod to Roost. Roost slid the papers down in front of us. My eyes went wide at the sight.
The pages were print-outs of pictures. While the quality of the shots might have been decent to begin with, the process of printing them had given them a grainy, almost dated look. It made the grisly depictions a little easier to stomach, but not by much.
Page after page of pixelated dead bodies stared with blank, distant eyes. Though it was hard to tell, it looked like every one of them had been gunned down. A few obvious headshots were shown, but others had to be studied a moment longer to spot the gunshot wounds. In a few cases, the only hint that we weren’t looking at a sleeping person was the pool of red they were lying in.
Despite the cause of death, though, there didn’t seem to be much of a connection between the pages; the locations, the nature of the bodies, and even the timestamps on the pictures varied.
“What are we looking at exactly?” I asked.
“Well, all these guys are… well, were members of the Black Falcons,” Roost said. “Now, I can tell ya that this ain’t our handiwork—not ‘less one of our boys decided to go rogue on us, but I don’t think that’s the case—so that means…”
“Who else would take them out?” Eve said. “There’s not a third club out here, is there?”
“That’s what we’re tryin’ ta figure out,” Roost said, scratching his head. “But, truth be told, we got nothin.’ No third club. Nothin.’”
I looked back down at the photos, trying to find any other hint among them. I looked at the people to see if I recognized any former Saviors, but the pictures were too blurry, and even the ones I did recognize didn’t have any commonality amongst rank, history, or anything that would suggest a trend.
“Eve has a good point, though. Do we have any reason to suspect a third party?” I asked. “Some vigilante effort that might be targeting the Falcons for some personal reason?”
Roost shrugged. “Them boys in the Falcons pissed off a lotof folks, sure, but there aren’t many out there with balls big enough to go around gunning ‘em down. And, not to brag on their behalf or nothin,’ but it ain’t like the Black Falcons would jus’ sit around an’ let their boys get iced like thatwithout striking back.”
I nodded slowly, seeing the truth in that assessment.
And then another truth hit me.
Sure, there couldbe somebody angry enough with the Black Falcons for any number of reasons to go out and try something, but tryingwas probably the best anybody could hope to achieve. Assuming somebody even managed to take out a couple of their members, the resulting backlash would put a quick end to them. Judging from the pictures, from the sheer number of dead bodies I was looking at, the Falcons weren’t working to stop whoever was doing it.
Only one person would be free to mow down mass numbers of the Falcons without any sort of retaliation to show for it.
The namesake of the club.
“Could Falcon have done this?” I asked.
Roost only shrugged. I felt sure that this was his way of deferring to me rather than saying he didn’t know—only a suicidal fool would have acted this way, but even then, a suicidal fool would not have produced this many murders. Only someone above getting murdered by the Black Falcons… only someone in charge could do that.
But then…
“But why would he take out his own men?” I thought aloud, shaking my head. “Some sort of message? To his own team? To us?”
“Pretty fucked-up message, ya ask me,” Roost said.
“Is there any connection to where the bodies were found?” Eve asked, pointing to three of the photos. “These three seem to be in the same area.”
“There’s eleven bodies—well, eleven that we found, at least—an,’ of them, they was scattered across three primary locations,” Roost explained, pulling out another sheet of paper. This one showed a map of the city with a few points marked in sloppy circles. “But when we went to the locations, we couldn’t find anything.”
“Went to?” I said. “Weren’t we already there?”
Roost shook his head.
“Then how did you get these pictures?” Eve asked.
“Sent to us,” Roost said, folding his arms. “Emailed. Encrypted sender. Untraceable. Ya have better luck hackin’ that NSA place than ya will figurin’ out this shit.”
“Emailed?” I said, shaking my head. So it’s a message to us, then.
Well, that’s great. Three weeks is what we got. Back to the ground.
“Sort of cements that ‘sending a message’-theory,” Eve said.
“Were all of these just sent to you recently?” I asked, glancing down at the map.
“Nope,” Roost began. “We got the first email almost a week ago. Went to check it out, found nothin.’ Then we got another email, same response, same effect. Then it happened a third time—didn’t bother to send a search party this time; just decided to call you about it.”
Roost almost never failed me. But almost didn’t mean never. And right now, I was feeling a little slighted and disappointed.
“Why wasn’t I told about the first email?” I demanded, looking up.
Roost shrugged, and his nonchalance frustrated me even more.
“Didn’t think nothin’ of the first email, to be honest,” he explained. “Figured the first one coulda just been old shit, someone tryin’ to punk us or somethin’. Then the second email showed up, and yah, I took it a bit more seriously then. But them batch o’ photos ain’t nothin’ but the worst in this pile. What was we supposed to tell ya at that point? Probably shoulda said somethin’ for sure, but ain’t nothin’ we can do ‘bout that now.”
While that made some logical sense, I didn’t bother to hide my frustration, and thankfully for Roost, he picked up on it by his own reaction to my facial expression.
“And you said this started almost a week
ago?” Eve asked, either doing a better job of keeping her cool or just not being concerned in the first place. “So when did each email come in?”
“First one was ‘bout six days ago,” Roost said after a moment’s thought. “Then the next came… hmm, I guess two days after that. Then the last one came…”
“Two day increments,” I said, nodding towards Eve. “There’s your pattern.”
“So, if the last set of pictures was sent yesterday,” Eve began, “do you think it’s fair to assume that another email will be sent tomorrow?”
“Damn,” Roost said. “How the hell didn’t I see that? Guess I shoulda brought yer ass in here earlier.”
“So that probably means that, if there’s going to be more pictures of more bodies, they’ll likely be committing the murders today, right?” Eve stipulated.
She’s right.
And I don’t think they’re going to stick to their own too long. They’re not gonna cannibalize themselves for the sake of a message.
I glanced over at Roost, eager to see how he’d respond to that. He nodded slowly, contemplative, and rubbed at his chin. He looked like he was suspecting the same thing I was—that the message was more or less done being sent and that soon, something would trail that message and hit us.
“I suppose I can send some boys out to see if they can catch wind of any funny business over the next twenty-four hours. Y’know, assuming that the pattern continues. If it was just supposed to be the three messages, then we could be chasing a dead fish. But I ain’t think it’s gonna just be that.”
“Even if there is something going on,” I grumbled. “We could be chasing a wild goose.”
“Huh?” Roost raised an eyebrow at me.
“You know, wild goose chase!’ C’mon, Roost, don’t make me feel stupid!”
“Ya feel however ya wanna feel,” Roost said with a chuckle. “I got work to do.”
Well, so much for that. Anyways.
“Assuming the timestamps on the pictures are accurate,” I said. “It’s fair to say that they’re sent to you shortly after being taken. Would you say that’s accurate?”
“More or less, I suppose. Can’t say for damn sure, but on the whole, seems fair. Why?”
I took a moment to study the map, realizing the marked zones were roughly ten-to-fifteen miles apart. The Falcons didn’t have the manpower to do an entire area.
“Means if I head out tomorrow and scope out this general area, then I might catch our amateur photographer in the act.”
“I, as in yer ass?” Roost said. “Haven’t ya learned a damn thing from these last coupla months? I got boys who can—”
“OK, so send some boys out with me,” I challenged. “But I need to get this resolved as much as anyone. I know the Falcons better than anyone except you. So yeah, I’m going out there. We’ll split up and cover grounds. I can do… maybe a couple of shops here, maybe the subway stations here…”
I noticed when I pointed to that that Roost visibly tensed. But it happened so quickly and he relaxed so fast that I ignored it, thinking that maybe Roost just didn’t like the idea of me going underground. I didn’t see how it could be any more dangerous than being above ground with shooters in windows, though.
“I think I can get that and then the boys can hit the other areas. How’s that sound?”
Roost didn’t have much of a reaction, which was usually how he acted when he knew he couldn’t control me.
Eve, however, did not bother to hide her frowning.
“I don’t think I like you going into this on your own,” she said.
I don’t either. But, I don’t like much about this.
“It’s the best bet we’ve got right now,” I said, turning towards Eve and moving my hands to her shoulder. “And, even then, it’s probably a crap shoot. As much as six of us might be covering quite a bit of space, we’re just six people. Probably not worth putting more out there for simple reconnaissance.”
“Derek is right, Eve,” Roost said, giving her a reassuring nod. “Fer once, he’s thinkin’ in the right direction.”
“For once?” I said, narrowing my eyes at him. “What’s that supposed to mean, Roost?”
“Means ya’ve had yer head up yer ass until now.”
“Fuck you,” I said, though I couldn’t help but smile all the same.
“What’s there to smile about?” Eve frowned, glancing back down at the photos. “This… whoever did this…”
I frowned at that, hating that I was putting Eve through this. She’d already been thrown into an awful situation because of her brother, and now I was doing the same, in my own way. Albeit a much less evil way. But still.
I didn’t want her to have to be involved any more than she had to. Right now, that meant keeping her in the line of sight of me or any other Savior at all times, and away from the death, bloodshed, and violence that had happened and was to come.
I moved to the table and quickly shuffled the papers back into a pile and handed them to Roost, making sure to put a sheet of text above all the photos for Eve’s sake.
“I’ll get this figured out,” I said. “In the meantime, let’s continue as we have been.”
“As we have been?” Eve challenged. “With me staying behind worrying about all of our safety?”
I frowned at that. I could see Eve was not going to give this one up so easily, as she shouldn’t—but it did mean some uncomfortable moments and conversations were coming in the days ahead as we sought to hopefully clean up the Falcons forever.
Roost cleared his throat. We both turned to face him.
“Not to talk outta turn,” he said. “But she’s got a point, Derek. It ain’t gonna do us or her much good to just be the captive princess, helpless and beggin’ for her prince to come back.”
“King and queen, you mean.”
“The fuck?”
I shook my head, realizing I’d let my mental thoughts interrupt an actual important conversation.
“Anywho, maybe, while yer out patrollin’ on yer wild goose chase, we can start teachin’ Eve how to protect ‘erself.”
Say what.
“Protect herself?”
Roost nodded, looking like he was becoming more confident in his suggestion by the moment.
“Yeah. Y’know, li’l target practice, couple of trusty self-defense moves… stuff like that. It’ll give ‘er somethin’ to do while yer out playin’ biker boy, an’—who knows?—it might even come in handy, right? Can’t hurt to teach the lady how to shoot and kill a Falcon.”
I started a slow nod, not quite convinced of the sanity of the idea. If the whole purpose of this was to get Eve away from violence, than to teach her how to use it…
But, as my father always said, it was better to know how to be violent and not have to use it than not know how to be and need it. And, sadly, she was probably going to have to need it at some point.
“Yeah… I think that’s a good idea. Can’t hurt, anyways. Thanks, Roost.”
“It’s what I’m here for. An,’ who knows, maybe we’ll finally get our shot at Falcon, eh?”
Falcon…
Frank fucking Young
The man who started the Black Falcons.
The man who killed my father and brother.
The man who nearly destroyed the Savage Saviors.
The man responsible for Rock, who’d killed my wife—destroying my family—enslaved Eve, and gotten Chuck out of prison in an effort to get Eve back on the streets.
Falcon…
The man behind just about every problem I’d ever had.
It couldn’t get more personal.
“Where are you right now, Derek?” Eve asked as she placed her hands on my shoulders. “Come back to us.”
“Oh shit, sorry,” I said, offering her a smile that I hoped wouldn’t look too forced. “Just… lost in thoughts.”
She offered a smile back, but I could tell I hadn’t fooled her. Her smile was just as forced, just as phony, as mine. She
had spent too much time with me for me to ever bullshit her.
“Sorry,” I said. “He, Falcon, he just… it’s not easy to think about him without getting upset.”
“I understand,” Eve smiled understandingly and leaned forward, kissing my forehead. “Just don’t get lost in those thoughts. I know all-too-well how easy it can be to get lost in your own head.”
“Get outta that head of yers, Derek,” Roost said, his face growing stern. “Ya won’t be able to stop anybody if ya get lost up there. And I ain’t gonna kiss you like her to bring ya back.”
“I know,” I said, hating how my emotions just always seemed one step ahead of me. “I get it. I won’t let my feelings get in the way. I can’t. Not with him.”
“Good,” Roost said at me. “Now why don’t you and your pretty lady get on outta here? Go for a late lunch or something.’”
“What? Kicking me out of my own office?” I said, blinking.
“I got it handled fer the afternoon,” Roost said, plopping down in my office chair. “Ya got some work tonight, so why don’t you two take it easy fer the day?”
Three weeks was all we got.
God fucking damn.
Well, I guess if I’m gonna call myself the president of the Savage Saviors, I better act like one. Not like I forgot how to do the job in three weeks.
“Alright, thanks, Roost,” I said, turning away and leading Eve to the door.
She took my hand, and though I felt terrified of what the future held for her—most especially since people who learned violence tended to attract it—at least she would be a little better prepared for the future. A little—
“Derek?” Roost said, his voice growing low.
I turned, but I almost wish I hadn’t. The look I got gave me chills.
I frowned, wondering just what Roost planned to say to me. Whatever it was, I knew it wasn’t going to be good.
“Ya need to promise me ya won’t do this all on yer own, Derek,” Roost said, his face cold and calculated. “I got skin in this game, too, don’t forget. Don’t go off early or stay out any later than mission protocol requires, ya hear?”