by Jackson Kane
And there was only one thing that happened to witnesses.
I forced myself to think of the bigger picture. This wasn’t my problem. I was here to save my club, that’s it. I wasn’t a saint, and I’d be lying to myself if I thought otherwise. No, I decided, slowly backtracking my way to Star.
Stick to the plan. This isn’t on you. I’d wait till the Lobos arrived, and we’d deal with it as it came.
I’d always had trouble with kids. They always struck the loudest chords in me. It always killed me when I’d hear about the twisted shit that happened to them. Whenever possible, I always stayed away from kids, altogether.
I didn’t mind kids. I even liked doing the Christmas charity runs and giving out presents to them. I just understood that the longer I spent around them, the higher their chance was of getting hurt. Doing what we did with the Veins wasn’t something you punched out of at the end of the workshift. No one turned off his phone. It just didn’t happen. Didn’t matter that you took off your colors to eat dinner, fuck your girl, walk your dog, whatever.
When that call came in, you answered it. And sometimes the shit you had to do followed you home afterwards.
Of all the shit that burned away at my conscience and the dark horrors that kept me up at night, having the blood of some innocent kid on my hands fortunately wasn’t one of them. I did that by staying the hell away from them. That’s why I was so torn to go inside that house. If I did—I couldn’t predict what would happen. There were so many variables.
One of the bikers stepped out of the post office to piss.
Light scuffling and childish yelps and laughter ate away at me. No women, no kids, no innocents if it could be avoided. Goddammit, we had rules! My resolve to not get involved eroded. If nothing else, I needed to find out why these sick fucks had kids here.
“Hands up, asshole,” I whispered to the pissing biker. In a flash, I had a hand over his mouth and my knife to his throat. His dick hanging out, he pissed all over himself as I led him around the corner to a spot that was a little more concealed. “You say anything that’s not an answer to my question, and I’ll bleed you. Answer slowly and quietly now. Why are there kids in there?” I took my hand away from his mouth, but pulled my knife tighter against his neck.
“Don’t do this, you mother—”
I covered his mouth to muffle his scream, then rammed my knife hilt-deep into his shoulder. The biker lurched from the pain, but I held him in place. “I thought I was pretty clear about the rules,” I hissed, extracting the blade and touching the sharp, wet edge to his throat again.
“Insurance,” he choked. “Keeps the girls working and gives us a bargaining chip if the cops can’t be bribed.”
Smart plan. Evil, but smart. Any empathy or loyalty I might’ve had for these guys just doing what their club asked of them just evaporated, replaced with cold certainty.
I covered his mouth and stabbed him in the side of the neck then jerked the blade across, turning his throat into a blood Pez dispenser. He flailed, but I had him. There were several ways I could have done it, but I couldn’t find it in me to make it less bloody and painful. These men were rabid dogs that needed to be put down. I held him for a few minutes till the writhing stopped, and shoved the body forward to keep myself from getting shat on when the rest of his bowels released. I dragged the dead Knight a little further away so it wouldn’t be accidentally stumbled upon. Blood stained my hands and shirt. It was inevitable.
It was always so goddamned inevitable…
A dot of light blinked on over the horizon, followed by several others. Headlights. Lobos would be here soon. I immediately knew what I had to do. How could I look Tee and the others in the eye and tell them I wanted a better club if I let a room full of kids get gunned down?
Star would have to understand.
I slowly opened the back door and entered what would’ve been a package-sorting area converted into a cooking station. Long tables were cluttered with partially-filled, five-gallon water jugs and hoses going in every direction. The shelves were covered in metal alcohol, paint thinner, and acetone containers; plastic bleach and drain cleaner bottles; bags of rock salt, lye, and coffee filters; plus a shitload of incidentals like batteries and matches. There was also a gas generator noisily whirring away to power the lights, burners and blenders in the building.
The two women that were cooking probably thought I was just another Knight and didn’t dare to look over at me. They wore gas masks, frantically measuring and adjusting things.
As I passed them, they startled at the blood on my clothes. I put a finger to my lips then motioned for them to leave the way I came in. Fear gripped them, but they stopped what they were doing and headed for the adjacent room thick with the laughter of their children. I waited patiently for the women to grab their children. The guy I’d killed was probably the one that was tasked with watching them as they worked. One of them stopped me and spoke quickly, but I couldn’t understand her. She looked like she was from a Central American country, but wasn’t speaking English or Spanish. Maybe Portuguese? Either way, despite her frantic warnings, I didn’t have time to linger. The Lobos would be here soon, and I needed to make sure there were no other kids kicking around anywhere.
I took out my gun and advanced slowly.
Old floorboards creaked with each step toward the room with the card players. The further away from the generator I walked, the more I heard country music from someone’s phones being played in one of the several rooms up ahead.
The door swung shut as the women and kids left behind me. The resulting slam from the heavy swinging door stopped me in place. I cursed under my breath knowing someone must’ve heard that.
“Hey!” another man called from a room past the card players.
I crouched against the wall and raised my gun for when he rushed out to see what was going on. No one came.
“Grab me a beer on the way in.”
I exhaled, slightly lowering my piece. Okay, that was one man up ahead and one in the card room plus the dead man outside made three. There were still four bikes out front.
Where the hell was the last Knight?
Realizing there was no backdoor way into the card room, I holstered my pistol and strolled in like I belonged there.
“Hey,” I said, walking up and taking a seat across from him at the table.
The one biker in the room sat in the chair next to the small room’s window, facing the door, and was shuffling cards when he saw me. There was a look of uncertainty on his face as to who the hell I was. He knew I wasn’t a Knight because I wasn’t wearing my vest, but I looked like one of them and moved with such easy confidence that there was probably no cause for alarm yet.
Had the Steel Veins sent the Knights backup and nobody told him?
“What are we playing?” I asked stretching my arms then cracking my neck. I sighed at the long day we’d all had and motioned for him to deal me in.
“Texas hold ‘em,” the Knight began cautiously. As he started dealing to me his eyes slowly trailed down to the fresh blood on my shirt. He abruptly tried to stand and go for one of the assault rifles leaning against the wall a few feet away. I shoved the card table into him as hard as I could, catching him in the stomach and knocking the wind out of him. I leaned in and drove the table further, pinning him against the back wall before he could reach the AK. Chairs fell over and cards flew everywhere.
There was no hiding the noise now.
We both went for our pistols, but I beat him by a hair. He dropped it and put his hands up in surrender. The look of recognition dawned on him as I flipped the table on its end to act as a shield between us and the room’s only door.
“Poet—” the Knight began, but I punched him in the face, cutting the word off. He knew who I was or had heard about me enough to guess. When his bloodied head snapped back, I put up a finger and made the shhhh sound.
“What the fuck’s going on back there?” called the biker in the front-most room. H
is foot falls grew louder as he reluctantly walked toward us.
I recognized his voice as the man who’d asked for a beer earlier.
“You assholes better not be fucking any of these bitches. If we don’t hit our deadline—” The biker stepped into the threshold wearing the smirk of a man hopeful to see a little action despite his warning.
I put a round through his forehead, dropping him immediately.
Two other kids in a nearby room screamed at the sound of the gunshot. They'd need counseling after this, but they'd survive. As long as I got to the last biker in time before Bones showed up.
“Two of you pricks playing cards and one dead asshole on the floor there. Where’s the last one?” I pushed my hostage out of the card room, then scanned the area. No one behind us. We crept toward the front room which was originally a retail counter where people paid for stamps and dropped off their packages.
“It’s just the two of us. I swear!” the Knight lied.
I had no time for subtlety. I put a bullet through the back of his knee. Bone fragments and ligaments ripped through the front of his jeans. He screamed, his body threatened to collapse, but I jerked him back up.
Not yet, I thought. You don’t fall until I say so.
“You’ve only got one knee left. I don’t recommend fucking around.” The faint, yet ever growing rumble in the distance reminded me that I was running out of time. “WHERE IS HE?”
“I don’t fucking know! I swear! I fucking swear! Last I saw him he was in the kitchen with the girls, I swear! Don’t fucking kill me.”
I stripped him of his gun, then put another round through his other knee. This time I let him fall. He screamed and writhed on the ground, but he’d survive. He was of no more use to me, but I didn’t want him running off either. I stepped in and kicked him in the face, knocking him out cold in case he any ideas of grabbing those AKs.
I’d keep this asshole alive for Bones to deal with. I was sure the Lobos Prez was going to have some questions as to why they were cooking on their turf. Being from a sister club, this Knight wouldn’t know any more about the ins and outs of the Veins’ operations than the Lobos mole already did.
I had to get the kids out now, or they weren’t going to make it. Everyone recoiled as I barged into their room. There was a kid, probably six or seven, and a two-year-old. They were both crying, huddled against their mothers, terrified of what was going to happen next.
What a shitty situation. It made me even more furious at the assholes that ran this place. I wished I had more time to torture those fucks, but getting the innocents out before the Lobos showed up was more important.
“Anyone speak English?” I asked, drawing only blank stares. Shit. “Espanol?”
One of the ladies nodded hesitantly.
Thank fuck!
“Toma, estoy estacionado a una milla al este de aquí.” I tossed one of the girls my key and told them where the car was. I’d wanted to get the car back to the church, but it wasn’t in the cards. I’m sure Father Jameson would understand. God’s plan and all that. “¡Anda!”
I had just started walking them out toward the back exit, which was a straight shot down the short hallway through the cook room where I came from. Just before we all reached the exit, the door was suddenly kicked open, and a figure frantically rushed in.
“We got company! Strap up—” It was the last biker, and he was visibly shaken by the arrival of the Lobos. His words cut off when he saw us.
That’s why I couldn’t find him because he was outside! I berated myself for the oversight. That was a fucking newbie prospect kind of mistake.
You’re getting rusty, Remy.
From where he was standing, the last Knight could see the bodies in both the card room and at the end of the hallway. His eyes narrowed at me as he snapped the AK he had slung over his shoulder.
“¡Abajo!” I yelled. I was half-a-second faster and got a round off just before he opened up on us, but I missed the mark.
A half-second more to aim, and the biker would’ve had a hole drilled into his face. My pistol was no match for an assault rifle, so I threw myself into the girl and her kid, and we tumbled behind some cabinets out of the Knight’s sight line.
The cover didn’t matter.
Bottles shattered, cans fell, burners fizzled and popped as a dozen rounds blasted through the thin wood like it was made of paper. If I had to put money on it, I’d bet those bullets punched through every wall in the building. The sound of screaming buzzed all around me.
I slid out of cover enough to lick off several more shots at him. I clipped him, but it was nothing but a flesh wound. With no reason to stick around, the last biker slipped back out the door he’d just came in through and headed around the side to get to his bike.
It was up to Star to stop him from leaving now. If he got away, word would get out that not only was I alive, but that I was helping the Lobos. The whole plan would be fucked.
I had to trust in Star, in the woman that she’d become. It wasn’t the first time I had to place my fate in her hands, and it sure as hell wouldn’t be the last. I fought the binding feeling in my gut and trusted her to pull my sorry ass out of the fire.
The kids were sobbing in a pile. When I got to my feet, I saw why. The woman I hadn’t pushed to the ground had taken three assault rifle rounds and didn’t look like she was going to make it.
I did what I could.
It was hard to look at. I shook my head and told myself that it was unavoidable in a war. I felt for them, but sometimes really bad shit happens. If the rest were going to have any chance of making it out alive, then they needed to leave right now.
That’s when bad became worse.
The dying woman was rolled over by her friend. The woman had tried to shelter the small boy she was holding when she was hit. The bullets tore right through the both of them. Half of the poor kid’s head was gone.
“Jesus... Fuck!” A crushing feeling descended on me with weight I’d never felt before. It staggered me against the wall like someone kicked me. I struggled to stay on my feet. Of all the terrible things I’d witnessed, I’d never seen a kid die. I turned away and closed my eyes, but that horrible sight wouldn’t leave my mind. A vicious wave of despair rolled over, punching holes in all my justifications.
My life felt like a carnival house of mirrors, everything was so familiar but suddenly so wrong on every level. Past and present events played in my head like a tattered, poorly edited film reel. The sound of bikes closing in should have been Veins, not Lobos. This doxa lab in New Mexico should have been our guns warehouse in Oklahoma. The illegal labor should have been paid and alone, not enslaved with their fucking kids present.
What the fuck was I doing here? How did everything get so fucked up? This wasn't part of the plan.
I didn’t kill him directly, but I might as well have. I couldn’t shake how damn responsible I felt for it. I’d heard about kids killed in drive-bys, and even seen a few crime photos. Being that removed from it, I could rationalize it all. I could weigh the cost of collateral damage against the gain of the bigger picture, but being here in person when it all went down was something else.
That kid’s lifeless body trembling, his brains splattered across the floor... There was no defense for that.
It was all too much.
I set this up, called in the big guns, leveraged their lives in this chess match against the Lobos. I was no better than the fucks that brought them here. I slid down the wall. The last remaining little girl was inconsolable as her mother hugged her.
They needed to leave this place. I weakly told them to go. Then begged them. Finally, I screamed it, shoving the woman and her daughter roughly toward the door.
The woman recoiled. Her frightened gaze peered through the mask I wore to see the demon I really was hiding beneath. In their faces, I could read the terror plainly. To them, I was no different than anyone else who’s taken advantage of them, seen them as an expendable workforce, subhum
an. The honesty of it shook me.
“Por favor, vete,” I asked them as calmly as I could. I swallowed ebbs of rising nausea and heartache. Just go... Please.
The woman looked down, refusing to meet my eyes. She pulled off a ratty, stained sheet that was on one of the doxa cooking stations and covered the dead boy to conceal all the horror. All that was visible now was the dying woman’s head and legs. The fabric around the boy’s head quickly stained red. An image so horrible, I’d only be able to remove it from my brain with a sharp knife.
The woman’s strength of will was enough to usher her daughter out through the back door. They disappeared into the safety of the all-enveloping darkness. I prayed to any bastard gods that might be listening to let them escape unscathed.
If they wouldn’t give me peace, at least let them have some.
The gun in my hand became a lead weight. It was so much harder to hold than it had ever been before. The woman beside me was fixed with terror as she struggled for air. She had a sucking chest wound so there was no hope for her. She was alone out in the middle of the desert, surrounded by monsters. It was a horrible way to die.
I sat next to her and took her hand in mine. I wanted to tell her it would be all right, but my lips betrayed me. I couldn’t get the words out. It was too much of a lie even for me.
A motorcycle engine in front of the post office turned over and revved. I could tell by the sound of the bike it was the fleeing Knight. Gunshots rang out right afterward. My heart froze as I listened for retaliatory assault rifle fire. Fortunately, none came. Star was all right. I breathed a little easier, at least for the moment.
Star had done what I asked her. She’d killed someone for me.
So much death surrounded me...
The dying woman squeezed my hand with all the strength she’d had left.
“Lo agarramos. Matamos a los hijos de puta que te hicieron esto,” I told the woman that justice had been dealt.