Sons of Mayhem 3: War and Vengeance

by Pink, Nikki

  “Shitty neighbors.”

  “Yep. Let’s get to work. Go get the hose.”

  While Bottle went and grabbed the hose that was exactly where Gauge had said it would be, Jase pulled out the hand-pump that was in his backpack. From Bottle’s backpack he removed the two gallon container of gasoline. How’d a little guy like him carry that?

  When Bottle returned Jase quickly attached one end of the hose to the pump, and shoved its intake into the gasoline container.

  “Can you see it?”

  “Hold on.” Jase heard Bottle moving his hands along the fence. “Here.”

  Jase passed the end of the hose over to Bottle, who carefully fed it through the hole in the fence that had carefully been cut out the night before. He could see the dark outline of Bottle’s face pushed up against the fence. He was peering through the eye-hole that was conveniently placed above the hole for the hose, watching as he fed it through.

  The hose snaked its way across the grass. It didn’t need to go all the way. Jase checked his watch. 10:30. They had fifteen minutes to finish preparing.

  Jase emptied the rest of his backpack. Six glass 2 liter bottles. Finding them had been the hardest part of their shopping expedition - everything was fucking plastic these days.

  “Here.” Jase tossed three rags and three of the glass containers over to Bottle. They removed the rubber stoppers that sealed them. If the area hadn’t already reeked of gasoline, it would now.

  “Think they’ll smell it?” asked Bottle.

  “No. The amount of weed they smoke in there, they wouldn’t smell shit if you put it in their burrito.”

  “Maybe we shoulda done that.”

  “This is better.” Is it? Are we doing the right thing? Then Jase remembered Brodie. We’re doing the right thing.

  They shoved the rags into the bottles, turned them upside down for a moment, removed the rags and re-inserted them the other way around. The rags were now soaked in gasoline, and what they held were basic, yet deadly, crude bombs.

  Bottle went back inside to check on the family. Jase lined the bottles up in two sets. A line of four next to Bottle’s position, and then a pair next to him. He placed two lighters in front of each set. Gauge had made them run through it a dozen times, checking every last detail. We never could have done this without him.

  When Bottle returned giving the all clear it was five minutes until go-time. Jase began to work the hand-pump. Up and down, up and down. The gasoline ran through the hose and spouted out in front of the back door of the house. The ground there was concrete, and gasoline soon spread in a wide puddle, some of it forming little streams which rolled onto the dirt and scraggly grass behind.

  As the container began to empty, Bottle began to pull back the hose slowly.

  “Not too fast.” He needn’t have said it. He knew Bottle wouldn’t go too fast. But he felt like he needed to say something anyway.

  “I know.”

  Soon the gasoline trail was complete. Jase checked his watch again. 10:43 and thirty seconds. He took a fire lighter from his pocket, where he had half a dozen more secreted. Usually used for lighting a charcoal barbecue, today they’d be lighting something much more impressive.

  Jase stood up and peered over the fence. In his camouflage he’d be invisible from the house. He could see movement in the windows ahead of him. It was the kitchen, and two men were visible holding a bottle between them. Enjoy your last drink fuckheads.

  Jase took a Zippo from his pocket. The other lighters were just backup. He lit the fire lighter in his hand, and before it could burn him, he dropped it over the fence to the beginning of the trail of gasoline.

  He stared down as the fire lighter burned and the ground didn’t. Fuck. He stared, and he stared. His eyes flicked back to the window. One of the men was looking in his direction. He can’t see me, can he? Fuck. I think he’s seen me.

  Jase glanced back down. The man hadn’t seen him. He’d seen the flames. The flames that were now making rapid progress towards the house.

  “Go, go, go.” Jase’s furious whisper was unnecessary. Bottle, right on schedule, had already lit one of the Molotov cocktails. With a powerful, practiced overhand throw Jase watched the bomb fly through the air. He held his breath. His aim was true. With a tinkling of glass the bottle flew through one of the two visible upstairs windows. On the ground the flames reached the small lake of gasoline at the same moment the back door opened.

  “What the fuck—” the man started to say. He’d already been in the act of stepping outside before his mind had processed what was happening. He stepped into a conflagration and his cries turned to screams. Jase’s eyes flicked to the upstairs window where an orange glow was now visible. He licked his lips. Let’s smash this pinata.

  The burning man jumped back inside and someone else slammed the door shut to block the flames. In the next twenty seconds Jase and Bottle lit and threw their remaining firebombs. They’d brought six to toss through the two upstairs windows, but they only needed three. They threw the other two bottles anyway.

  The entire process from igniting the fire lighter to tossing all six Molotov cocktails had taken less than a minute. By 10:45, precisely as planned by Gauge, the backyard and the top of the house were engulfed in flames.

  From the very bottom of his bag Jase pulled out the last remaining item. An empty pack of Faro cigarettes. A Mexican brand. He dropped it on the ground. Hopefully the cops would be competent enough to find it later.

  They grabbed their backpacks and with big swings tossed them into the raging fire, quickly followed by the pump, the disposable lighters and the almost empty gasoline container. Leave nothing else behind, Gauge had told them.

  As they swung their rifles over their shoulders the first sounds of automatic gunfire erupted.

  Shaking with adrenaline Jase ran and hopped the fence to the right, while Bottle ran to the left.

  Going through two more yards, Jase and Bottle erupted on either side of the Mexican house and went to join Gauge and Lonnie.

  Jase slid down beside the ex-soldier who didn’t flinch or speak as he squeezed his trigger again and again. Jase aimed his rifle towards the house. He saw movement in the front window which was already emitting a sickly orange glow, and let off a burst of gunfire. The shape dropped. Fuck you.

  The air reeked of smoke, and the previously silent night was filled with gunfire and screams. Jase fired twice more. Then there was nothing. He glanced at Gauge who raised his watch to his face, and then gave a nod. It was now 10:48. Three minutes? That’s all? Holy shit.

  “Go!”

  They got to their feet and ran, Gauge leading the way back to the van. Jase caught Lonnie’s eye. His eyes were wide and his face was beaming. His maniacal grin set Jase off, and he found himself laughing hysterically as they ran back to the van parked a block away.

  Jase felt like he could have run forever. He was light as a feather. It was like a great burden had been lifted off his shoulders. We did it, Brodie. We did it.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Jase

  They piled into the truck. Gauge put it in gear and started driving far too slowly. Jase, Bottle, and Lonnie peered out the back window. There was an orange glow and a plume of smoke billowing up.

  “Holy shit boys!” Lonnie said, his face still warped wide by his leering grin.

  “Fuckheads won’t mess with Mayhem again,” said Bottle.

  “It won’t bring Brodie back, but fuck, I feel a whole fuckin’ lot better,” said Jase.

  Gauge’s rough voice was calm, “It’s not over yet boys. And once the adrenaline wears off you’re going to feel like shit. We’ve gotta work fast, get this shit off.”

  “Drive a bit faster then,” said Bottle.

  “I’m doing sixty already. Let’s not get in a police chase, okay?”

  Jase peered at the speedometer. He really was doing sixty. Didn’t feel like it though.

  They got to the warehouse in fifteen minutes, and by the time t
hey’d left the edge of town they still hadn’t seen a single police car or fire truck. Gauge had ordered half a dozen vacant houses burned down over the previous few days, and had the pledges make a dozen different calls a day to the cops reporting non-existent shootings all over town. The boy had cried wolf dozens of times that week, and it had bought them a lot of extra time.

  “The cops are slow to react. But they are going to come to us. Let’s make sure we’re ready for them.”

  There were murmurs of agreement.

  When they got to the warehouse Gauge drove around to the back. He pointed the truck towards the sheet metal wall and the headlights lit up the dirt lot and the water faucet and hose.

  The men piled out and immediately began to strip. They smelled of smoke, gunpowder and death. They tossed all their clothes into a big pile until they were all naked. The four nude, muscled, tattooed killers huddled around the water faucet. Jase grabbed it and sprayed each of them with the cold water until they were soaked, before turning it on himself.

  “Fuck that’s cold.”

  “My balls just disappeared.”

  “I never would have signed up if I’d known about this shit!”

  The complaints were good natured and they laughed. Jase handed each of them the odor-removing soap and a wash cloth, and they got to work, covering their bodies in a soapy lather.

  “Do your hair real good,” Gauge warned in a voice that sounded like a growl, vigorously rubbing his own bald head and goatee beard in demonstration. “It absorbs smell like a motherfucker.”

  Jase rubbed the suds all through his hair, hoping it would remove any taint of smoke or gasoline. When he was done he held the hose over his head and ran his hand through his hair repeatedly to remove the soap.

  He shivered violently as he held the hose for each of the other men in turn, running his eyes over their bodies for anything that would give them away.

  Gauge walked off, striding confidently as if he walked around balls-out all the time. A minute later he was back with the giant ice-hockey bag they’d stashed their regular clothes in and four big towels.

  They dried off under the bright lights of the truck, and quickly pulled their clothes back on. They piled back inside and Gauge opened the glove-box and pulled out a bottle of whisky.

  “Fuck yeah,” said Lonnie, his face still stretched wide by his never ending smile.

  Gauge made to hand it over then paused a moment. “Get out a minute, everyone.”

  “Why?”

  They were already doing as he’d requested. They’d agreed to trust Gauge today and he hadn’t let them down so far.

  “Your hair. You guys have all got wet hair. Why the fuck would you all have wet hair at a wake. Pretty suspicious.”

  “Should we cut it off?” asked Bottle.

  Lonnie laughed. “And that wouldn’t be suspicious? Use your noggin, Bottle.”

  “Nah.” Gauge grinned. “Whisky showers. It’s the only answer.”

  Everyone laughed as Gauge proceeded to pour whisky over each of their heads, except his own.

  “Now go smoke some cigarettes. Get the smell of that fuckin’ soap off. We’re supposed to be dirty bikers not English princesses.”

  “Hey—” started Lonnie.

  “Except you. You’re an English princess. An English princess with shitty, smoky, whisky-reeking hair.”

  Lonnie laughed. “Like Princess Margaret?”

  “Who?”

  “What?”

  Lonnie sighed. “Never mind.”

  They piled back into the van, closed the windows, lit four cigarettes and did their best to make themselves smell like a bunch of dirty bikers.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Nicole

  When it was almost time we drained our glasses and stood up from the table.

  “What’s that?” asked Lucy.

  “What?”

  “Listen.”

  Then I heard the sirens. I gulped. I had been hoping I wouldn’t have to talk to the police. Maybe I wouldn’t have to, but it seemed increasingly likely. For the thousandth time that week I wondered what I’d gotten myself into, and for the thousandth time I remembered Jase.

  I watched as Lucy pulled off the t-shirt and dropped it onto the table. Together we both kicked off our shoes and wriggled out of our jeans.

  The sirens got louder and then we heard the thumping of boots flying up the metal staircase. As we heard footsteps rapidly approaching I prayed it wasn’t the police.

  The door swung open and Bottle and Jase came flying in.

  “Are you okay?” I asked

  Jase was beaming and his only response was to push himself against me, giving me a kiss that left me shaking. Why does he taste of cigarettes? And he’s reeking of whisky.

  “We’re good. It’s done.”

  I looked at Lucy and she was smiling. It wasn’t exactly a smile of happiness, in fact it was kind of scary. But still, she was smiling.

  Jase and Bottle both quickly removed their boots, and then Jase pulled off his jacket and shirt. I pressed my hands against his torso and then welcomed his embrace. I felt him undo the clasp of my bra and then our bare chests were pressed together.

  Outside I heard thumping on the stairs again.

  “Quick.”

  Jase pushed me hard and I flew onto the bed, the shock of the movement making me gasp. I saw Bottle stare at Lucy confused, before she gave him a shove and he lay on the bed beside me.

  Jase pulled his jeans and underwear down while I wriggled out of mine. A moment later he yanked me forward so my ass was at the edge of the bed, and lifted my legs onto his shoulders. He entered me roughly sending a shudder to run through my body. Will we ever do this slowly?

  I looked to my side and I saw Lucy had pulled open Bottle’s jeans. My eyes met hers as she took him in her mouth and the trailer door burst open.

  I let out a scream. The law enforcement officers were pointing handguns at us. Lucy lifted her head up and looked over her shoulder with an annoyed look.

  Jase held himself inside me as he turned to look behind. “Ever hear of knocking? We’re busy.”

  They didn’t laugh. Soon we were re-dressed and heading to the sheriff’s office.

  ***

  Jase had promised that the plan would be foolproof. And it turned out it was. No Sons were arrested or charged.

  But the plan hadn’t taken the asshole sheriff into account.

  END OF PART THREE

  The fourth and final part of this serial will be released soon. If you’d like to receive an email when it’s released, and to make sure you get it for just .99c, then sign up for my mailing list here or by typing http://bit.ly/1fZ3Y11 into your browser.

  After the serial is completed there will be further Sons of Mayhem titles, but they will be novels / long novellas rather than a serial format. These too will be released at a very limited time discount for members of the email list.

  About the Author

  Nikki Pink left home and is currently a professor of English at a small university in Asia. She enjoys cooking, running through rice fields and talking to her genius cat.

  Also By Nikki Pink

  Sons of Mayhem 1: Oil and Leather

  Sons of Mayhem 2: Blood and Whisky

  *WARNING - MATURE CONTENT AHEAD*

  By Nikki Pink writing as Remember Nikki Pink

  The Complete Remember Nikki Pink Boxset

  The author also used to write erotica under the author name “Remember Nikki Pink”.

  She has now ‘retired’, but has created a bargain deal: You can now buy ALL of her previous erotica titles in ONE book. The collection consists of more than 20 stories which originally retailed at $2.99 each. You can now buy the entirety of the stories for just $2.99 for EVERYTHING.

  Click here to buy the Complete Remember Nikki Pink Boxset. A list of all the included titles follows below.

  Please note, these stories can contain taboo subjects and are only suitable for readers 18 years or old
er.

  Be warned, the subject matter of some of them may not be to your tastes!

  The stories included are:

  Army Boys Series

  Army Boys 1 and 2 Bundle – Japanese Virgin’s Rough First Time

  Army Boys 3 – My Body Your Party

  Interracial - Black Woman White Man

  Standalone:

  Breeding Lucinda

  Breeding the Black Barely Legal Babysitter

  Breeding the Black Barely Legal Babysitter 2

  Breeding the Barely Legal Black Babysitter 3

  Caught in Class

  Interracial - Other

  Gangnam Style Billionaire (Asian Man White Woman)

  The Good Professor: Virgin on an A (White Man Asian Woman)

  Romantic

  You Never Forget Your First

  Rough

  Catching the Virgin Babysitter

  Violating Christina

  Gay

  Alpha Frat

  Mr. Jones and the Boy Next Door

  Swim Boys - First Time Gay Experience

  When Straight Guys Go Gay Two Stories

  Taboo!

  Single Stories:

  Beast Daddy

  My Brother Wants Me

  My Brother Doesn't Want To

  Breaking Taboos With My Big Brother

  Taken by My Brother

  Snaphappy