Rock Bottom

by Manda Mellett

  The driver must have been watching through his mirror. As the door opens a tall man steps out. He’s dark, handsome. Not as heavily built as Rock. His face twists when he sees me, and I recall the brief glance I got in the mirror in the bathroom before Rock had helped me out. I look awful.

  It’s the compassion on his face that gets me moving, but I’m still anxious. Adrenaline still coursing through my veins, my heart continues beating fast. Though it would be sheer coincidence for there to have been another car waiting, I need to be certain this is what Rock had set up.

  “A ride to safe haven for Becca,” the stranger says.

  Yes. Those were the words Rock had given to me so I’d know I could trust this man. If I was right to have faith in Rock.

  I sway, partly with relief, partly with weakness, and partly in preparation to keep running, to take my chances and fend for myself. But I’m feeling faint, my escape already draining me. With no money, scanty clothes, and in a strange city, what chance would I have on my own?

  “You’re dead on your feet, woman. And we need to get out of here fast. I don’t know how much time Rock will be able to buy us.”

  He’s right. It won’t be long before they discover me gone. They’ll be out searching for me as soon as they know I’m missing. If I don’t go with him, the chances are they’d soon find me. I start moving forward, the stranger holding out his arm as I stumble. I take it because I need the helping hand.

  “Come on. We’ll soon get you home and safe.”

  Still unnerved, I’m yet again being taken to a place I don’t know where. I let him help me into the passenger seat, then fumble for the seatbelt. As soon as I’m situated he runs around to the driver’s side and wastes no time starting the engine and driving off. My spirits begin to rise as I leave the Chaos Riders and that hated cellar far behind. Anything has to be better than that.

  “What’s your name?” I ask curiously when we’ve covered the first mile, then quickly wondered whether I should have spoken, relieved as he answers.

  “Wraith.”

  Rock hadn’t explained who he was sending me too. Couldn’t even give me the name of the person collecting me. He’d said he hadn’t been told when he hurriedly explained the arrangements. If he had to guess, he suspected it would be Drummer. Mr Drummer I interpreted. Now my companion has told me, I go cold when I realise it sounds like another biker name. “Where are you taking me?”

  His face turns to meet mine, he grimaces, then says through gritted teeth, “Somewhere you’ll be properly looked after, a place to heal and regroup. Somewhere you won’t be treated like an animal. And with people who’ll deal with your situation.”

  I replay his words in my head, recognising it sounds like Utopia, too good to be true.

  Wraith speaks again. “You’ll meet my ol’ lady, and the other women. They’ll be all over you. Rock told you to be cautious?”

  I nod, then realise he can’t have seen, so give him the words. “I’m not to talk of Rock, or the Chaos Riders. Just that you helped me escape, but not to give any details or where I’ve been or who I’ve been with.”

  “Keep it vague. Tell anyone who asks it’s club business. We’ll give the brothers enough information to keep them quiet. No one must know that Rock’s undercover. We’re trustin’ you with this. If you mention him accidentally, you have to lump him in with the other Riders. Make people believe he’s joined them.” He throws another glance at me. “We’ve got brothers out searchin’ for him. They want to bring him back to face a punishment they think he deserves. If the Riders hear we’re no longer lookin’ for him, they’re likely to guess he’s a plant. If that happens, he’ll be dead.”

  He’s put it so starkly. “I won’t let anything slip. He got me out of there. I owe him so much.”

  “Lookin’ at you, Becca, you owe him your life. You wouldn’t have lasted many more months, let alone another couple of years.”

  We’re through Tucson now, heading up the I10 toward Phoenix, when suddenly he indicates and turns off. It’s a bumpy track, restored in places. Trees look like they’ve recently been burned by a fire, but new growth on the ground is starting to sprout. While I’m thinking a wildfire must have recently swept through here, we pull up in front of huge metal gates. A toot on the horn gets them opening, fear bubbling up as I feel trapped again when they close behind me.

  I’d seen the signs he must be a biker—his name for a start, and the fact he’d mentioned his brothers. But the men milling around the auto shop wearing leather cuts no longer left any room for doubt. I’ve been brought to a different biker compound.

  I whimper as I watch the leather-clad men. Wraith turns and catches my eye. “We’re not the Chaos Riders,” he says grimly. “We’re the Satan’s Devils, and we’d never treat a woman the way they’ve treated you.”

  “But I’m still a prisoner.”

  He pulls up in front of what looks more like a hotel than a biker club and switches the engine off. “You need a place to rest and recover. You need medical attention, good food to get your weight back on. We’ve got a gym which you can use to get your strength up. It’s not safe for you to be out on your own, and you’re in no state to look after yourself.” He taps the steering wheel and sighs. “You’re definitely not a prisoner. I’ll turn around and drive you back to Tucson if that’s what you want. But Rock’s asked us to look after you, and because of what he’s doing for us, we’re not in a position to refuse.” He pauses, turns toward me, and places his hand under my chin so I’m forced to look at him. “Rock must care for you. He’s put himself in fuck knows what trouble helpin’ you escape. You owe it to him to give us a chance. Whatever he’s going through because he’s helped you—and knowin’ what I do of the Riders, he won’t get away cleanly with whatever excuse he makes—you need to at least give him peace of mind that he knows where you are and that you’re safe.”

  His long speech resonates with me. Rock had indeed stuck his neck out when he helped me escape, taking a big risk getting me away from there. The least I can do is comply with his wishes. It hadn’t occurred to me he could get hurt on my behalf. I certainly do owe him a lot, and accepting what he’d arranged would be a good start with respect to repayment.

  “A gym, huh?” I try a small smile. It feels unfamiliar. Though I’ve no energy for such things now, I used to use Hawk’s equipment, one of my only pleasures enjoying the burn from keeping fit.

  Wraith smiles, it transforms his face. But it’s not at me. His eyes are fixed on a woman, who, as I turn, I see coming up to my door.

  “Bloody hell! You look done in, babes. You want to come inside, have a cuppa or something?”

  “That, there,” Wraith informs me, “is my ol’ lady, Sophie. She’s got a heart of gold, but you might need a translator at times. She’s from England.”

  “Sod off, Wraith,” Sophie admonishes him but gives a wide grin. Then to me, “Come on, hun, I’ll help you inside.”

  Taking her offered hand, I take my first step onto the ground of the Satan’s Devils’ compound. It’s then I look around and see the place, and not my fears, for the first time. This is no converted warehouse in a rundown location, or a farmhouse out in the wilds. Instead, I could have come to a vacation resort. The views are stunning, looking down into a valley surrounded by two mountain ranges. Beyond the high robust fencing, desert borders the compound on all sides as far as I can see. Though it looks charred at present, I’ve no doubt soon all the vegetation will spring back. There’s even the odd saguaro that’s survived unscathed.

  Shielding my eyes against the sun, I take a moment to breathe in the fresh air, noticing different aromas, which for the first time in months don’t come from me. Though an underlying odour reminds me I desperately need a shower, and being faced with the pretty and fresh-smelling woman, I feel ashamed.

  “I need to clean up,” I suggest, hesitantly.

  “You need to see Doc,” she contradicts, with a shake of her head. “Come inside, the others all
want to meet you. But if it’s too much I’ll take you up to your suite.”

  Suite? While I’m anxious about meeting company and know I’m not at my best, as today’s escape has already taken a toll on me mentally and physically, she’s given me no choice. I let her take my hand and lead me in through the clubroom door.

  Again, I’m surprised. I didn’t see much of the Riders’ clubhouse, but it certainly wasn’t like this. There’s the normal bar and pool tables, but the comfortable looking chairs around the tables match, and it seems freshly painted. There’s pleasant smell in the air too, and I realise what’s lacking. Cigarette smoke. The group of women who are seated on a couple of couches look up with their mouths dropping open as I walk in, and from the way they are dressed, and the young children playing at their feet, they look like wives—or what did Wraith call Sophie? Old ladies. Certainly nothing like whores.

  With my free hand, I try to pull down the miniscule skirt, embarrassed again.

  One gets up and approaches. “Hi, I’m Sam. I’m Drummer’s old lady. He’s the president.”

  I might not know much about motorcycle clubs, but if she’s the president’s wife, that probably makes her top dog. “Hi,” I say weakly.

  I don’t have time to try to think of something to say, when another woman also stands and comes over. “I don’t want to fuss, dear. And I’ll get teased for this. But I know what matters most to a woman is her hair. You come to me after Doc’s set you right. I can do something with it.” As she touches it a strand comes out in her hands, and tears start to fall for the first time in weeks. I’d got used to my situation. Crying never changed anything. But the sight of this unknown, but compassionate woman holding my hair in her hands sets me right off. She’s right. A woman’s hair is important. “I’m Carmen, by the way,” belatedly she introduces herself. “My old man’s Bullet. I’m a hairdresser.”

  “Darlin’, you ready for me to take a look at you?” A man not resembling anything like a doctor approaches, and I flinch, wondering who he is and what he intends to do.

  Sam purses her lips and shoos him back. “Becca, Drummer’s not shared much with me, and I won’t ask for details you’re not able to give. Just looking at you tells me you’ve been through a lot.” Her eyes crease as she takes in my appearance again, then she indicates the man who’s just spoken. “This is Doc. He was a medic in the Army and knows his stuff. If he thinks you need a hospital or a real doctor to visit, we’ll arrange it. I suspect this all seems scary and you don’t know who you can trust. If it’s alright with you, I’ll come in with you.”

  It’s then I realise I’m still holding tight to Sophie’s hand as I feel a squeeze on my fingers.

  “Want me to come along as well?” she asks, her eyes softening.

  “Please.” My voice sounds weak, even to me. I look down at her. She’s about two inches shorter than me. “But what I really want is a shower.”

  “Let me examine you first. Then I can advise how to look after your sores. And one of the old ladies will find you something better to wear,” Doc says, his face grim.

  Unnerved by the sudden change in my fortunes, I let Sophie lead me across the clubroom, down a passageway to the rear. She opens a door, and I enter a clean-looking room.

  “Sit.” Doc indicates the bed. Sam sits on one side of me, Sophie the other.

  Wondering where he’s about to start first, he surprises me by asking, “I understand you’ve been held prisoner. Tell me how long, where, and what food you were given to eat.”

  “Not enough, obviously,” Sophie butts in. Sam hushes her.

  I sigh and tell him everything I can. “I was held in a cellar. Chained up. A dirty mattress. No access to washing facilities. They fed me twice a day, either a sandwich or a burger. No fruit or vegetables, and just a bottle of water to drink.” I swallow and admit, “I was there for over three months.” The location of my prison had changed, but not the circumstances. I doubt they need the details.

  “What?” Both women exclaim.

  Doc silences them with a glare. “I can see the mark where your ankle was obviously cuffed, and other sores which have got infected. But what we’re looking at here I can tell is a case of anaemia and other effects from a lack of vitamins D and C and probably a whole lot of other letters. In my view, unless you tell me different, I don’t think you need a hospital unless your condition worsens.”

  He breaks off, looking at me closer, his jaw tensing. “Fuck, woman. I’ve seen cases like this before, but normally refugees living in immigration camps.” He clenches his teeth together, then crouches down so he’s at my eye level. “Anything else I should know about? Were you…abused?”

  Rapidly I shake my head. “They didn’t touch me like that.” He seems relieved, and I sense that both Sam and Sophie relax. “What should I do?” I ask him.

  “I’ll give you iron tablets, and you’re to eat lots of food rich in iron. Vegetables and fruit. And,” he smiles at this one, “get plenty of rest and sit out in the sun.” He points at the visible sores on my legs. “I’ll give you an antibiotic cream to put on them after your shower. I think we’ve caught it in time, but if they don’t clear up, get worse, or if there’s anything I can’t see that’s worrying you, you’ll need to see a doctor.”

  He kneels and opens a bag and pulls out the items he mentioned. Sam takes them from him. He says one last thing before he leaves. “Thank fuck you got out of there when you did.” With a last tightening of his face, a muttered goodbye, and something else I didn’t quite catch under his breath, which I take was an impolite comment about my condition, he leaves.

  Tears come to my eyes, summoned by the sudden change in my fortunes and being overwhelmed by these strangers, who for some unknown reason are prepared to take care of me. Suddenly I’m crying all the tears I’d held back while I’d been chained in the cellar. Without saying a word, Sam pulls me into her, hugging me tight.

  I cry for a very long time.

  Chapter 9

  Rock

  I’ve given her twenty minutes to get clear. I daren’t give her longer than that. I go down to the clubroom and approach Krueger.

  “VP. I don’t know what to do.” I frown, hoping I look sufficiently uneasy.

  He breaks off his conversation with Wreck and impatiently rolls his eyes. “What the fuck, Prospect?”

  “It’s the woman. The one in the cellar. Prez agreed she could shower, but she’s been in there for some time. I can hear water runnin’, and I’ve knocked on the door, but there’s no answer.”

  “Well go in there, Prospect. Kick the door down if you have to. Don’t know why the fuck Prez agreed she could wash.”

  Because she had fucking infected sores all over her. But I say nothing, just shrug as though agreeing, who knows what reason the Prez had, then hiss in a breath as I give my excuse. “I can’t go in. I want that patch.”

  Krueger breathes in sharply. “What the fuck does checking on her have to do with you getting a fucking patch? If you bring this sort of problem to the VP, you ain’t showing any fucking initiative.”

  I pull my shoulders back. “Prez gave me a direct order that I mustn’t see her naked.”

  Surprisingly, Wreck comes to my defence, leaning over to speak into Krueger’s ear. “Hawk.”

  Krueger sighs. “Fucking man and his fucking instructions.” He looks at me and nods. “Okay. You did right, Rock. Come on. We’ll come with you. If that water’s still running, we’ll check it out. Girl might have fainted or something.”

  “If she’s drowned it would save us a problem,” Wreck observes. “We need that fucking bitch stinking up the cellar like a hole in the head.”

  “Well it won’t smell so badly now if she’s been this long in the fucking shower.” Krueger laughs loudly at his own joke as we make our way up the stairs.

  Outside the bathroom, normally reserved for the officers, Runner’s on guard. I’d grabbed him before going down. “Any movement?”

  “Nah, that water mu
st be stone cold by now.”

  Krueger pats him on the shoulder, then tries the door. It’s locked from the inside, took some fiddling to lock it after I came out, but I’d managed it. He steps back. “Kick it down, Prospect.”

  It takes two sharp kicks and the door flies open.

  “Fucking hell! Sneaky fucking bitch!” I’m ready for Krueger’s punch to my stomach, forcing myself to relax my muscles, knowing he won’t take kindly to breaking his fist. “This is all your fucking fault, Prospect!”

  I knew it would be.

  Wreck’s pushed past and is looking out of the open window. “Where the fuck has she gone? There’s no way she could have jumped and survived. Prospect, get down below. I can’t see a body, but she might have dragged herself away. Dying animals do that, don’t they?”

  Runner takes off, true to his name, at a run. I move alongside Wreck. After studying the view for a moment I point out something he’s not immediately noticed. “She might have made that tree.”

  He turns with an incredulous look. “She’d have to have leapt for that. I don’t see how she could have done it.”

  “Neither do I. I checked, there was no route of escape.”

  Come on, come on… I don’t want to be the one to find explanations. And I’m not. Krueger pushes me out of the way. “Desperate people do fucking desperate things. If she’d balanced on the window sill and jumped, she might have made it.” Thank you, God.

  “Chancy. More likely she’d have fallen.”

  “But possible.”

  Krueger looks at me. “Wanna give it a try?”

  I look out of the window, eyeing the flimsy looking tree. “I wouldn’t like to, no. If I made it, my weight would break it.”