Too Fast For Hope

by Adair Rymer

  “Are you OK?” No response. “Dammit, Remy! Talk to me!”

  “I'm sorry,” Remy sighed. His voice was strangled by sorrow. “Last night... I... I lost my way.”

  I didn't understand. I immediately thought that he got lost getting out of that building or something ridiculous, which made no sense. When I walked into that room, last night and saw him on the ground holding that dead woman's hand... I barely recognized him.

  When he didn't answer me I thought I'd lost him forever. It was more terrifying than when he was shot. At least then, there was something I could do to help him. The bullets were physical, I knew what the wounds were. I could wrap my head around what needed to be done.

  But seeing Remy hollowed out like a jack-o'-lantern scared me because there was nothing I could do! I had to just wait for him to return to me. If he returned to me at all.

  “What the fuck happened to you in there?” I asked cautiously.

  “That room was full of little kids. The Knights were holding them as hostages.” I felt my chest crush with dread at each passing word. “That's why I went in.”

  I was so pissed when I saw him disappear, especially after he reassured me that he wouldn't. Right after I stopped the biker from leaving I ran into that building, not just because I was worried about him but also because I was pissed! I was angry that he'd do that to me after he expressly told me he wouldn't. Now, I felt like such an asshole.

  “Kids? I didn't see any—” It started to dawn on me. My heart started rising in my throat when I summoned the courage to ask ask him, “what happened to the kids?”

  “There was another woman in there, cooking meth too. She took the kids. I gave her the keys to the church's car.”

  “Oh.” That couldn't have been it. Seeing the woman dead was shocking to me but it couldn't have been to him, with all he's been through with the club. At least not shocking enough to put him in this kind of mood. It had to be something else.

  “The woman, that you saw. I killed her.”

  “What?” I couldn't think of any situation where that made sense.

  “She'd taken several rounds from one of the Knights AKs and wasn't going to make it. She was holding a little boy when it happened. He...”

  No. My eyes shot open. I knew what he was going to say and I felt nauseous. Oh god...

  “The boy was killed. She couldn't speak but she knew... She knew he was dead. With her eyes, she begged me to—” Remy stopped to collect his thoughts and calm himself. “So I did. One round through the heart.”

  There was a long pause. He swallowed hard and then said, “before you came in I pulled the trigger on myself but the gun was empty by then. Used my last round on her.”

  My god, Remy tried to kill himself.

  I covered my mouth. I was speechless. It was horrible. When he said that he lost his way, I took that literally, at face value. Like an idiot! Jesus, Remy! The thought of finding his dead body next to that woman in the post office made me almost start crying. I didn't want to imagine being without him, especially not there, surrounded by Lobos.

  I got so angry at him! How could he do that to me? I wanted to scream at him! To slap him for almost leaving me! I immediately felt horrible for thinking such selfish and shitty thoughts. I could feel the incredible amount of grief within him. He opened up to me because he trusted me! I couldn't betray him like that. He needed my support not some self righteous judgment. Now I was just angry with myself.

  Rapid, heavy exhales blew across my breasts and then his tears rolled down my stomach. I couldn't imagine how hard that was for him. The slayings last night, dozens of justified murders. Losing his blood brother, Bren, before that, then the rest his club family. Having to work with the Lobos to save his club after those very people killed his wife and shot him nearly to death... All that he shouldered alone. That weight. That pain he must have felt was unfathomable. How could anyone keep it together like he had?

  It stunned me at how strong he had to be to survive all that. It was hard to breathe just thinking about it, let alone going through a fraction of what he went through.

  That's why the sex felt so wrong. He wasn't fucking me, he was coping with the pain, the only way he knew how. Sex was his only escape from the all the madness.

  “You're not alone anymore,” I told him after desperately searching for other words that just weren’t there.

  “Yeah,” the word was pushed out in a slow voice that was laid low with gravel, broken glass and heartache. Then he kissed my stomach sweetly and with the sound of budding relief filling his voice, he whispered, “I know.”

  I held him as tightly as I could and we laid there in silence until enough time had passed that the soft hues of morning crept through the cracks in the shades and, exhausted, sleep finally, mercifully, embraced us.

  * * * * *

  The phone Bones gave Remy vibrated in a semicircle on the nightstand. Remy answered but mostly listened. It'd been almost a week since the ghost town and the hard night that followed. Since then a brightness had returned to him, Remy looked lighter somehow. That fire was still there but that wasn't the only thing that scorched his dark orbs.

  There was hope.

  We'd had sex every night since. It wasn't just sweaty, mindless sex, or shared mechanical release. He was having sex with me not because of some coping mechanism or a need to feel something other than constant pain but because I understood him now. Because I let him actually love me.

  “It's on. Lets go.” Remy hung up, kissed me, then threw a few things into a bag.

  Aside from the guns, one change of clothes each and a few odds and ends, everything else was abandoned. We paid for the room in cash under fake names so we didn't bother to check out or anything. To look at us, with everything we left with, you'd think that we we're only headed out for a few hours.

  And just like that, we rode off. All the frustration of trying to go straight was left behind. I looked back at the motel fading off into the distance and I felt that limbo, that fake middle-life, fading with it. I would never miss it. The waitressing, the struggle for money, the long hours with no respect and nothing to really show for it.

  It was time to forge a new future, that wasn't burdened by the exhaustive rules of society. A future that we were good at, one that made sense to both of us. There had been so many no-turning-back moments for me, so far, that now they just felt like phases of my life. Like I was crab that was outgrowing shells.

  For now though, we had to make it through the next twenty four hours. There was only Remy's plan or death. Either way, the life we'd been leading these last few weeks was over.

  After a days worth of riding through New Mexico, Texas then Oklahoma, we finally pulled into a decent looking hotel about an hour outside of Leslie. We parked at the edge of the sea of chrome and rubber. There must've been thirty bikes lined up. The Lobos had beaten us here.

  “That's gotta be loaded with the heavy weapons.” Remy cocked his head over to a generic white van with New Mexico plates that was parked next to the bikes. He texted Bones to let him know we'd arrived. “Assault rifles, shotguns, SMGs if they have any. They can get away with a few pistols in the bedrolls strapped to the back of their bikes but nothing bigger than that. If that truck doesn't make it to Leslie, Lobos lose a huge firepower advantage.”

  We removed the bag and started walking inside. I spotted two Lobos lingering around the van smoking cigarettes and chatting.

  “Looks like they have people watching it now and if it's that valuable I'd imagine they're going to have people watching it all night. How are we going to stop the van and not have the Lobos immediately know it was us?” I whispered.

  “I have an idea...”

  “But?” I waited for the other shoe to drop.

  “I'm going to need you to run a distraction.” Remy exhaled, looking almost guilty.

  “Is this going to be a thing we do now? Some couples just do a board game night, you know.” I smiled at him.

  “
We're not those couples.” Remy stopped me and looked for signs of hesitance. “Are you OK with this? I might be able to figure something else out.”

  “No, it's fine.” I kissed him on the cheek. I was reminded of the strip club. Terrifying at first but then it felt great to be able to help him, like we were a team. He counted on me and I came through. It was a great feeling. “Besides, I've never successfully even completed a game of monopoly before.”

  “No one has.” The corner of his mouth crept up on one side.

  Remy had me grab a liter of bottled water and a few other things from the overpriced convenience store across the street while he checked us in. Our room was on the fifth floor and was surprisingly comfortable. I came back with what Remy had asked for and some dinner for the both of us. After we ate and I took a quick shower, Remy set the alarm and explained his plan. Then we both crashed out for what was basically a long nap.

  At three AM the screeching alarm went off and my first coherent thought was that I was late for school. Years later and I still had the same stupid fears.

  “Time to get up, my little actress.” Remy yawned, rubbed his face and got dressed. “Once you're ready and you see one of the Lobos, on watch, head in to take a piss, open the curtains and flick the lights on and off a few times, to let me know.”

  “You got it, Clyde,” I smiled groggily. “All this makeup... I feel so glamorous.” I stretched. I emptied the bag of beauty supplies that I'd picked up at the convenience store, onto the bed. I had to pretty myself up quickly.

  “Don't have too much fun, Bonnie.” Remy grabbed the water bottle, a pack of cigarettes and winked at me on the way out the door.

  Remy somehow had the forethought to pack my skimpiest outfit. The devious bastard probably had this planned well before we even left Santa Fe. Forty-five minutes later one of the Lobos headed inside to use the bathroom. I signaled to Remy and ran down as fast as I could.

  I was a mess of poofy eighty’s hair, teary-eyed mascara, yoga pants and bra-less under an obscenely, low-cut blouse. I saw Remy extinguish his cigarette and creep around the back of the van. I drunkenly meandered near the fat biker sitting in the open driver's seat of that van. When he predictably cat called at me I walked toward him and laid on the heavy flirting.

  “Whatchu need, mommie?” The fat biker cooed at me.

  “I'm lost. Do you know how to get back to Mitchel's. I gotta find my boyfriend.” I channeled my inner walk-of-shame, college days. I groaned a little on the inside at my performance and hoped the outfit alone would be distracting enough. With all the subterfuge Remy had me do, at some point I really should look into acting classes.

  After a minute of bullshit, feigned drunken, small talk, I saw Remy casually walking away from the van. He'd pried open the gas tank door and dumped the bottle of water in. He told me that because the water sinks to the bottom of the tank it was sucked into the engine before the gas. Apparently that somehow disables the vehicle as it drives causing it irreparable damage.

  I took Remy's cue, thanked the “big strong biker” I was talking to and stumbled around the building. Once out of sight I dropped the character, headed to our room and cleaned up. Remy joined me shortly after.

  Late that morning we left with the horde of bikers bound for Leslie. Bones had the road captain position us right up front next to him. I'm sure it was so that they could keep an eye on us in case Remy tried to run.

  When we were about ten miles out from Leslie I pulled the phone from Remy's hoodie pouch. I found the draft text message to Tee and hit send. All we could do now was pray that Tee was able to come through for us.

  Leslie was a small but spaciously, flat town with a handful of well maintained brick and stone buildings. With plenty of vacant lots being developed it was apparent that the wheels of change, although slow, were turning in Remy's home town. Despite the progress of industry, there were parks, public arts in the form of sculptures and paintings and a few covered gazebos for gatherings. Almost every store front window had handmade signs, most likely from an elementary school, with the date of some social event. The charming town was well cared for by its residents. There was this wonderful sense of community here.

  The rolling tide of bikers roared through the main drag in the center of town. With the town so empty, I wondered how far that sense of community went. Had the Steel Veins been so well-regarded here that the town's people heeded the warning from the club and stayed inside today?

  Remy had assured Bones that the mother chapter, Deadeye's crew, would show up early in the day to help with the set up for the annual. We were supposed to get there right after they arrived. That way we'd have hours before the rest of the chapters showed up.

  The plan was to ride into the parking lot, kill anyone outside then storm the building with the heavy guns out of the van. Wipe out both Deadeye's and Top's chapters then be halfway back to New Mexico before the rest of the Veins reinforcements could arrive.

  It was a scary good plan. Had to be, because Remy was the one to think it up.

  Remy's old clubhouse came into view and I understood why it was probably easy to have such sway over a quaint little town like Leslie. The clubhouse was basically a brick rectangle with a chain-link fence surrounding the property, nothing really to look at.

  It was the location that was brilliant. The clubhouse was on the outskirts of town, out by the railway station in the industrial district. The Veins could show up to, and support, all the town's events but also keep the grittier, day-to-day stuff out of sight and out of mind for the residents. Leslie probably viewed the club as their hidden protectors.

  When we got close to Remy's clubhouse everyone pulled out their pistols. Bones glanced over to Remy just before we pulled in. He was checking to see if Remy really had the nerve to raid his own clubhouse. If he saw any doubt on Remy's face I had no doubt he'd have nodded to Spyder, who rode directly behind us and we'd have been gunned down and trampled in a heartbeat. Remy matched Bones gaze then pulled his bike into the lead.

  There were two Veins in the parking lot that were caught on their way back into the building. I didn't recognize either of them from the nights at Muse's so they must've been Deadeye's crew. Remy had his gun out and firing, they were both on the ground before Bones had even entered the parking lot.

  Like a burst damn, the Lobos flooded into the open, gated parking lot. A dozen bikers set up at each exit and shot up the doors when the Veins inside tried to come out and help their fallen brothers. This was a surgical strike, Remy had planned for everything.

  “¿Dónde mierda está la camioneta?” Bones scanned for the van but couldn't find it then he screamed at his road captain and sergeant at arms. No one had any idea, it should've been right behind them. Bones called the van's drivers but got no answer. Then he checked his voice mail. The Lobos stood by anxiously, waiting for orders.

  Bones closed the phone, crushed it into his clenched fist, wrapped it with his other hand, pressed them into his forehead then shook violently for a few seconds. The frustration on his usually subdued face was intimidating. He looked as if he would become unhinged at any moment. Then he calmly relaxed and yelled out something in Spanish. Remy and I watched him intently. Me not knowing what he said and Remy pretending not to know.

  “The van stalled out on the highway on the way over. The engine is miraculously fucked somehow. The police showed up and now Flaco and Papa are in custody. With all our fucking heavy weapons!” Bones voice pitched slightly but he brought it back under control, showing incredible restraint. He even took a deep breath before asking, “do you know anything about that?”

  “News to me.” Remy shrugged, feigning obliviousness.

  “Yeah. S'what I thought.” Bones face contracted in disbelieving acceptance. “OK. So here's what happens now. Roughneck!”

  The crowd parted so the leathery warlock could get through. He was short and wiry, with long, stringy hair, under a faded bandana. He swam in his patch covered, denim vest. One of which read
“Original”. He looked like he escaped from a biker retirement home if such things existed.

  “Remy is going to take lead on the way into the clubhouse, Spyder, you and ten guys follow him in. Roughneck, you're going to take chamaquita here over to the edge of the parking lot and if anything else doesn't go as planned you put a fucking bullet into that pretty face of hers.” Bones tone was definitive. He wasn't going to be too careful. Everything led up to this moment. The moment he destroyed the Steel Veins.

  “Roger that. Be my pleasure!” Roughneck pulled up the back of my shirt and stripped away my gun then jerked me by my arm toward the back of the parking lot. “Let's go, tight ass.”

  My skin crawled at the old psycho's touch. This was definitely not in the plan! Shit!

  Remy mouthed the words, “I'll come back for you.” There was nothing else he could do for me, they were already breaking off to make the assault. I had to stay alive long enough for him to get through this.

  “Yer boyfriend there'll never be one a us. Even if he does survive this.” Roughneck shoved me past all the parked bikes out by the dumpster and then pushed me into the chain-link fence that surrounded the property.

  “That's not what your boss says,” I spat the words at him.

  “Bones says a lotta stuff. Some times ya gotta read tween the lines.” The old bastard gave me a sickly grin.

  “They made a deal so you keep your fucking hands to yourself.”

  “Yer a feisty twat, aintcha? Ya see yer boy over there yellin' in the door?” Roughneck pulled the pistol out of the leather holster he wore on his chest.

  I stayed quiet.

  “The second he disappears.” Roughneck pointed his evil gaze and his absurdly, large revolver at me. “You do too.”

  “That's not what Bones fucking said!” I protested.

  “Tween the lines.” Roughneck shrugged looking back at Remy.

  “Don't shoot!” I could still hear Remy yell at the men inside his clubhouse. “Deadeye, it's Poet. You're completely surrounded. I've got an offer for you that makes this whole nightmare go away. No one else needs to die. I just need to talk. Two minutes, that's all.”