by K E Osborn
“Why don’t you smoke? You a fag or something?”
“Shut up cunt. I’ve had enough of you and your bullshit!” I’m still pissed at him for frightening Willow in the gym. He had no right to even look at her, let alone advance toward her the way he did.
“What?”
I huff and shake my head. “Nothin’.”
“No, seriously, fuckface, if you have a problem talk to me about it—”
“D’ya think it’s okay to talk to your VP like that?” Ryder asks as he steps up next to me and so does Jigsaw, Techie, and Behemoth.
“He doesn’t deserve to be the VP. He only got the position ‘cause he’s Mad Dogs little lap dog. Surprised you got the road name Steel, and not Chihuahua.”
I step forward gritting my teeth as Jigsaw places his hand on my chest stopping me from reaching the cretin.
“One who is smaller than the King, throws the biggest stones,” Jigsaw says in his Swedish accent, and we all look at him and furrow our brows at his riddle.
“Man, you’re such a freak!” The Penetrator states stepping forward into Jigsaw’s face.
I don’t pull him back deciding instead to let Jigsaw handle this egomaniac. He towers over him and glares down baring his teeth. I think I actually see The Penetrator look slightly uncomfortable.
“To quake in one's boots rattles the souls of the weak.”
I smirk as The Penetrator scowls up at Jigsaw, grabs his collar and pulls him to him. I tense up as this animosity between my brothers becomes more heated.
“If you didn’t talk in riddles all the fucking time people might actually like you, you fucking Neanderthal—”
“Look who it is. It’s those Savages. The scum of the fucking earth…” A voice calls out. We all turn around to view down the sidewalk and notice five men walking toward us with knives drawn. The Penetrator lets go of Jigsaw, as we all stand together staring at the men. They seem familiar, but I’m not sure who they are.
I glance to my left to see Dad and Chops still busy through the shop window. But I’m sure they’ll be out soon, then we’ll outnumber them. They stalk toward us and I smile as they raise their knives in the air and grin widely. I find it hard not to laugh at their tiny pocket knives. Compared to Wesley, their pieces look like Swiss Army blades.
“So Semi told us to let go of what happened with the deal that went south. But we don’t think it’s right to have so many of our men go to the ground without a little payback. You’re going down you Savage scum.”
I open my eyes wide as it finally clicks who these douchewads are—5113ers.
Gang members.
Shit!
Reaching around my back, I unhook Wesley from my back holder. Pulling him out, I grin as I watch their eyes open wide with shock.
“‘That’s not a knife… THAT’S a knife’,” I tease using the quote made popular by Paul Hogan in Crocodile Dundee. They swallow hard as I grit my teeth and prepare myself for the shit storm that’s going down right in front of me.
The 5113ers all leer at us as we stand steadfast shoulders back and glaring at the scum right in front of us.
“This is for Chez,” they yell and race toward us. We all brace for the impact as I grip hold of Wesley tighter preparing to use him. Quickly glancing around to see if there are any witnesses—there’s not—I lunge forward to the main guy as he storms toward me. My fist connects with his face as his fist smashes forward into my stomach. I gasp slightly as my brothers all take on the other members. An all-out fist fight is taking place. The gang member swings and misses as I duck and bend over pushing my shoulders into his stomach running him backward into the wall. He exhales as all the wind is knocked from his body. He brings his hands down and his fists connect with my back, so I stand up and he pulls his pathetic excuse for a blade out and lunges at me, it swipes my arm cutting me slightly. I feel blood trickling down my arm as I shake my head and deflect his hand pushing him away from me. He lunges at me again and I bring my knee up into his groin and knacker him. He hunches over gasping for air. Turning to walk off, suddenly he jumps on my back and brings the knife down to stab into my shoulder. I swing around causing him to be unstable on my back, and his knife falls from his hand as I race backward and thrust him into the brick wall again. He moans as I smash his body hard against it. Turning quickly, I shove my fist into his gut and his head lunges forward head butting me. I stumble on the spot disorientated as my head pounds from the blow. His fist connects with my jaw and my head snaps to the side forcefully as I bend over getting my bearings.
I’ve had enough of this prick!
I stand back up straightening my stature and bring Wesley up with a smirk and thrust it into his side. The pull of his muscles as the blade slices through his body is enough to immobilize him, but not kill him. He moans out in agony and falls to the ground clutching at his side.
One down, four to go.
Wiping the sweat from my brow, I turn to see Jigsaw holding a member by his neck off the ground and tickling him as he chokes him. I chuckle to myself. He’s so weird. Behemoth is standing with his hand out holding a member by the throat as he swings and misses continuously. That makes me chuckle too. Penetrator is kicking the shit out of another one who’s on the ground cowering, and Techie is still fist fighting and looks like he might be in a bit of trouble. I stride over to Techie right as Dad and Chops exit the shop.
“What the fucking hell?” Dad calls out.
Chops pulls out his piece and the intense ringing of gunfire shocks me, as it catapults through the city street. I turn to see Chops shooting the 5113ers one by one.
“Brother, stop!” I call out, but he continues to slaughter them all like animals. They fall one by one as their brains burst from their skull or their chests splinter open with the ricocheting bullets through their bodies.
Breathing heavily as I look down at the carnage below me, my heart starts to race. The blood begins to run in rivulets down the footpath as the gang members bleed out on the dingy, litter-filled backwash street of Adelaide.
“We better move, the heat will be here soon,” Dad says and moves over to his bike.
“I’ve been stabbed,” The Penetrator announces, and we all turn to look at him as he moves his hand from his stomach and blood oozes out.
His face turns white and for a brief second I’m happy, but then I remember he’s a brother and I have to honour that pledge first.
“Shit, how deep is it?” Dad asks pulling up his shirt as we all assess his wound.
“Not sure. But we need to go.” That’s the most responsible thing I’ve ever heard Penetrator say.
I turn and take a deep breath, the blood on Behemoth’s arm catching my attention.
“Shit, are you cut too?”
He nods. “Yeah, but I’m fine. We need to go. We gotta move. Now.”
“Cuts off boys. Don’t need the heat knowing what club we’re from. Dirty your plates too,” Dad says and he’s right.
I nod taking off my cut as we all move quickly to our Hogs. Folding up my cut, I place it on my seat. Then spit in my hand and scrape up some dirt from the gutter, wiping it over my number plate and smearing it, so the numbers aren’t legible. Sitting on my cut on my seat, I start my engine. We need to get away from the slain bodies on the street. This shit—if we get caught—could mean serious time. And I’m not ready to lose Willow yet.
Fucking Chops!
The faint echo of police sirens filters in from the distance. I rev my bike and pull out onto the bitumen. We all ride fast, and pull out onto the main road, but the heat is at a distance behind us in no time. Needing to keep the range between them and us as much as possible, my heart races frantically in my chest as we all hammer down and race fast and furiously down the main road leading back to the clubhouse. We’re quite a distance away, at least half an hour, so we need to lose the heat or we’re in trouble. We don’t want to lead the heat back to the clubhouse either. Looking to my flank, I notice Dad nodding to the others and rais
ing his hand in the air and splitting his two fingers apart. That’s the signal I’ve been waiting for. The roar of the Hogs all accentuate as we accelerate and come to an intersection where the red lights are evident and the flowing traffic from the opposite direction is alarming, but we gotta do what we can to lose the heat. So we all split off in different directions at the intersection. The three cop cars all take on differing directions, one follows after me as I weave through the oncoming traffic and dodge the cars. They honk and swerve to miss me, but I need to lose these guys or I’m done for.
I pull back the throttle speeding down the main highway, the cops right on my tail. The wind pulls at my face I’m riding so swiftly as I weave in and out of the cars on the road. My heart is hammering and all I can think of is Willow. All I picture is her beautiful face. I need to lose these guys, but they’re persistent and staying on my back. Accelerating so that everything is starting to blur, I chance a quick glance at my speedo and I’m clocking close to 140 km/h. I love riding fast, but I hate riding dangerous, and that’s what I’m doing right now because I have to keep that distance or increase it.
Knowing the cops, the more dangerous I ride, the more likely they are to call off the chase. I start weaving too close to the cars and making them hit their brakes. I hate the thought of causing an accident and especially if people are going to get hurt, I really don’t want to do that. Swerving in front of a bus, it rams on its brakes as I pull out in front of another car. Glancing in my mirror, the car swerves to the side and another car has to slam on its brakes to avoid the collision. The cops keep coming, but they are slowing down. Okay, I just have to keep doing what I’m doing. Seeing some dirt on the side up ahead I swerve off the road and flick the dirt and stones up onto the cars passing by. They honk and hurtle abuse at me as a dust cloud circles through the air giving me light coverage. I smile and move back on the road and hammer down even harder. The speedo clocks up to 160 km/h as I speed off leaving the cop car in my wake of dust and scattered cars behind me. He’s fighting his way through still trying to get to me, but this gives me some time to figure out a plan of action. Looking ahead I see a broken down semi carrying a bunch of cars, so I pull in skidding my Hog to a stop behind it then hide my bike up along the inside against the bushes. My heart beats rapidly as I watch down the road for the cop car. It comes past blaring its road sirens with lights flashing searching for me. Ducking down, as I watch it pass, a man sticks his head out of the truck and looks down at me.
“That for you?”
While gazing up at him my breath catches looking at the burly man inside the semi, I grit my teeth wondering what the hell to do now.
“What does it mean for you, if I say yes?” I ask.
He smirks and rolls up the sleeve on his arm revealing a club tattoo. “Not a thing, brother.”
I smirk and nod as I let out a big breath of relieved air. I really didn’t want to have to hurt him. “Thanks, man.”
He smiles. “Had to outrun the heat a few times myself back in the day when I was riding. Stay by my cage as long as you need brother.”
I smile and nod. “Thanks, you’re a fuckin’ life saver.” Another cop car speeds by with lights flashing and sirens blaring.
“I’m always willing to help a brother out.”
“You got someone coming to help with your cage?” I ask.
He nods. “Yeah, Spanner’s coming to fix her up. Shouldn’t be long, once the issue’s fixed we can escort you back to your house if you want. You can put your Hog on the truck, and I’ll drive you to the clubhouse or close enough to. Keep you undetected?”
I raise my eyebrows. “Fuckin’ awesome, mate.”
“You’re okay! Don’t worry brothers always stick together.”
I smile and nod. “Thanks, man. Steel’s the name.”
He brings his hand out of the truck and down for me to shake. “Cager, obviously.”
I chuckle. “It’s not ‘cause you crash every time you ride a bike, right? That’s why you’re relegated to trucks and cars?” He furrows his brows at me. “We have Crash, who’s our Cager for those exact reasons.”
His bellowing laugh radiates over the loud hum of the midday traffic. “Sounds like a character.”
“You have no idea.”
Cager and Spanner dropped me off a block away from the clubhouse. I didn’t think it was right for them to take me all the way. A rival club seeing our house felt wrong to me, even if they were helping a brother out. I thanked them and they said it was no hassle and then we parted ways. It’s interesting to know not every biker out there thinks rival clubs should be at each other’s throats.
Pulling into my parking spot, I notice all the other bikes are parked. The relief flooding over me is immense and I take in a deep breath knowing we all evaded the law. Getting off my Hog, I grab my cut and pull it on as Cassius greets me with his usual happy welcome. I pet his head and take off my lid as he rubs himself up against my leg.
“Hey boy,” I say petting his head as I walk inside the clubhouse. The music is low for once, and I take in a breath when I see Stevie is checking out Behemoth and The Penetrator. I’m glad they’re being seen to. Glancing up as I walk past still with Cassius at my side, Dad spots me and his shoulders slump as he moves over to me. He pulls me into a massive hug and holds me tightly. Opening my eyes wide, I embrace him and chuckle slightly shocked by his outpour of affection.
“Thank God! You were gone so much longer than everyone else. I was worried they’d got you,” Dad says pulling back and holding me at arm’s length.
“Nah, I lost ‘em. Just had to hide it out for a while.”
He nods and squeezes my shoulders as Techie walks over. “I’m impressed you got away from the heat, Steel. You’re lucky. The percentage of evaders getting away is only just over thirty-five percent. So the odds were not in your favour man.”
“Yeah, thanks for the facts, Techie. That was just what I needed.”
“No worries,” he says and then turns and briskly walks away.
I chuckle and shake my head thinking just how lucky I actually am.
Stevie walks up and grabs my arm. “Steel, you’re cut too. How many of you were injured in this fight?” Stevie asks and I chuckle.
“I wouldn’t call this graze an injury, Doc.”
She shakes her head lifting my shirt and assessing the wound. She slaps my arm making me flinch and grits her teeth. “You’re right, nothing to worry about. It’s just a stab wound you fucking ignoramus. Now get over here, and let me put some antiseptic on it and fix you up.”
I smirk and nod walking over to Stevie’s makeshift medical surgery by the lounges and sit down.
“A simple butterfly stitch will suffice. But please, try and limit movement of your arm for a week or so. No martial arts or boxing for a couple of weeks.”
I nod. “I can deal with that.”
Stevie finishes up just as Dad walks over.
“You done here kid?”
I nod and stand up taking a deep breath trying to calm my still heavily beating heart.
“Right, brothers who were out on the ride, emergency church… now!” Dad yells his voice booming through the clubhouse and echoing off the walls.
I thought this might happen. Walking behind Dad toward the assembly room, Techie, Behemoth, Jigsaw, Chops and Penetrator all follow in. Jigsaw closes the big double wooden doors as we take up our seats. Penetrator’s not normally in church, so he’s standing by the edge of the table waiting to be told where to sit.
“Just sit at the end, Penetrator,” Dad confirms what I was thinking and he nods, walking down to the end of the table to take a seat next to Chops.
Taking my seat to the left of Dad, I lean back in the wooden chair and interlace my fingers together at the back of my head stretching my arms out.
“So, obviously, the trip to Frankie’s didn’t go quite as planned. Our brother loves this club. He would be at this very table if he could. His place as a First 7 Original helped br
ing this club to where it is today. Chops, Vinnie, and the others as well. But Frankie can’t ride anymore ‘cause of his back problems. So he runs the gun shop. Our gun shop—”
What the fuck! Why is he rehashing old shit we already know?
“We know all this Mad Dog,” Chops interrupts. I glance at Dad and he puffs out his chest as he breathes in deeply through his nose.
“If you let me finish...” He glares at Chops and he rolls his eyes leaning back in his chair.
“Yeah right,” Chops says waving his hand through the air for Dad to continue.
“As I was saying… what happened in front of Frankie’s shop today was disrespectful. Now I know we didn’t start the fight, it came to us. But the way it ended, that’s what I have an issue with.”
My eyebrows raise slightly, as I begin to think that maybe Dad is going to have a go at Chops for gunning them all down. Like he fucking should!
“What are you implying, Prez?” Chops asks sitting up straighter in his chair.
Dad huffs, the air racing through his nose can be heard easily over the hushed silence in the room. “I’m implying Chops… that you racing out of the shop and gunning them all down like the arseholes they are, was not the fucking right thing to do. Yes, we needed them disabled, but not dead. This not only inflames our situation with the 5113ers if they ever find out it was us, but if any of us had gotten caught by the heat we could have lost brothers. Murder in the streets is not something we do, not in broad fucking daylight—”
“It was a backstreet in a dead-end street. No one was there, no one saw us. We didn’t have our cuts on when we left. Our plates were dirty. We’re not traceable. What’s the fucking deal?”
Dad stands up, his chair falls backward from the force of his stance. “What’s the fucking deal, Chops? What’s the fucking deal? You’re a fucking maniac. A loose cannon. You do things without thinking, without sanction, without running them by your brothers. You get something in your head and no matter what, even if the club says no, you do it anyway. You wonder why you didn’t make VP, there’s your answer arsehole. You think you’re above everything because you’re a First 7 Original? I’ll tell you now brother, you might be my best mate, but I’ll fucking kick your arse out to the curb if you put my brothers and especially my kid’s life at risk again by acting out on your own accord. You fucking got me?”