by J. C. Allen
“What? Who?” one of the other Saviors asked, looking around.
“Not one of ours,” AK corrected him.
“The leader,” Bones said. “Stay alert. It’s dark and he will use that to his advantage. Get back into cover.”
“You heard him,” I said as we quickly darted and spread out, the better so it would take time for the sole Falcon—if there was one—to find us.
Once I found cover before the half-existing wall that had not yet been torn down, I took a cautious look around for the missing Black Falcon before daring a glance around the blood-soaked scene. The place was littered in rubble, splinters, and bodies. Though the Falcons had undeniably lost more in this shootout, I knew that we had lost at least two men, likely more once we had a chance to examine the area.
Though I had looked forward to this battle, I had not looked forward at all to the deaths on our side. It was an inevitable part of motorcycle club conflicts of this degree, but rationally understanding it and seeing it with my own two eyes were very different. I hated Falcon, and would stop at nothing to kill him.
But, goddamn, this shit exhausted me and made me that much more eager to see an end to it all.
How could I not? It was a shit-ton of dead bodies—and by the end, those words might be a bit too literal for comfort.
But for now, we needed to add one more body to that count, or at least get him interrogated. And it was the most important body of all.
Their leader was around here somewhere and if we didn’t take him out, it wouldn’t be long before this place was back and running. I knew nothing of this leader, having never seen him in a position like this before—necessitated by all of the killing we had done in the months prior—but that just meant it was possible he could be like, or worse than, Rock. The last thing I needed was someone that fucking malicious running this place.
“Where could he be?” Rucker said, looking perplexed.
We didn’t bother to hide our voices, perhaps because the leader would know where we were anywhere. But this felt dangerously akin to sitting out like ducks, begging the leader to come and pick us off one by one. Maybe he wasn’t a great shot, or maybe he was perfect. Either way, it wouldn’t hurt to—
The sound of a bullet rang through the otherwise silent room.
“Shit!” Rucker said.
He didn’t sound hurt, more just surprised. Damn good thing—I didn’t need my strongest men wounded, not when we were undertaking our most dangerous parts of this mission to take down the Black Falcons.
I glanced over where it had hit and looked around, trying to find the source. I didn’t have much luck, though. It was too dark, and—
“Up there!” AK pointed.
I followed his finger and saw him. Up in the rafters, perched on one of the long columns at the roof was the leader. He looked shaken as he clutched at the rafter, holding his other arm out with the gun. I narrowed my eyes, lifting my own gun in his direction and fired. He yelped, his own gun falling and hitting the floor beside us.
“You want us to shoot you up there or you wanna come down?” I said. “You come and talk to us and we’ll let you live.”
“Fuck you!” he said, shouting down from the roof.
I sighed.
“Fuck me?” I furrowed my brow and glanced back at the others. “Let me explain this again more clearly. You are going to die if you don’t come down here. We have three Marines who are heavily armed and many more Savage Saviors. You are unarmed and about to piss your pants. Would you like to live or would you like to die?”
The man gave no answer. I sighed again, frustrated, thinking I should have known better.
“On your cue, boss,” Bones said.
“Give me one more try,” I said before turning my attention back to the man in the rafters. “Last chance, Falcon scum! Come downstairs, hands up, and we’ll let you live. You got five seconds before we shoot you. Five… four…”
“Fuck you and your little whore!” the man yelled. “You’ll never win. You’ll never catch Falcon, you’ll—”
“Bones,” I said.
“With pleasure.”
Bones, who most certainly had been getting a bead on the son-of-a-bitch, pulled the trigger. Before I could have even thought to lift my gun, perhaps to get the kill for myself, a single roar of gunfire sounded, followed immediately after by a startled grunt. Our collective gaze remained skyward then, and we watched as the man stared, stunned and frozen, back at us, a fresh blossom of gore beginning to bloom in the middle of his chest. The nearly perfect circle of red spread, reaching either shoulder, was almost low enough to stain the area above his navel.
“Long live… Falcon!”
“Those are your dying words?” I said.
They really were, because at that moment, his balance left him and he staggered, caught himself momentarily, and finally fell forward. His body did a half-cartwheel in midair, his arms spiraling in either direction as his legs flopped as uselessly as a rag doll’s. We followed the descent until his body fell limply to the ground in a sickening thud.
There was a body, but it might have been more accurate to say there were multiple parts at this point. I had mostly numbed myself to the blood and gore of war, but even by my jaded standards, this was a bad death.
“Fuck,” one of the other Saviors said, whistling at the sight.
“Cops are gonna have fun with this one,” one of the others said, sighing softly.
“Roost’s got a few buddies with the PD,” I said, still stunned at what I had actually seen. “He’s already given him the warning.”
“Pays to have friends in high places,” Rucker said with a humorless laugh.
“Alright, men,” I said, speaking quickly to quell the conversation before we lost focus or, worse, the Falcons had more men coming out to help. “Let’s destroy any contraband we find and get the hell out of here.”
Aside from a couple of crates of cocaine, rifles, and sex toys, though, the place was largely barren. It occurred to me as we moved through the place that we had caught the Black Falcons in the midst of their move—perhaps the best time to deal a critical blow to the enemy. I wasn’t sure if this was the newest of the moves or if all of them were concurrent, but either way, if we moved quickly, we could have the Falcons severely crippled, to the point that perhaps even Falcon would have to surrender.
That was, if he was rational. And he would never surrender to us, that much was obvious. But after we killed him, perhaps those remaining would surrender.
Glancing around, I saw another reason this had to end sooner rather than later—this war was getting too bloody. I didn’t care much for the Falcons who fell, but we had lost two men of our own, and were almost certain to lose more in the coming three raids. These were the sons of good men and women, the brothers of good young people, and possibly even fathers. We had to wrap this up quickly.
This could only be the end game for the Falcons, not the Saviors.
One more look around was all I could deal with. We’d cleared the place of all of the contraband, ensured all the targets were truly dead, and had alerted the police to clean the place up, making it unusable for the Black Falcons. I gestured for the men to head out.
“I need a shower,” AK said, sneering.
The other two Marines grunted in agreement with him.
“Says something that even someone with your kind of reputation feels dirty from something like this. Gotta mean something that even you guys are disgusted, right?” I asked, frowning at their reaction.
“I need a shower after every battle,” AK said. “A good soldier doesn’t kill for pleasure.”
I didn’t say anything after that. What could you say to someone who had fought in Iraq and seen battles undoubtedly much worse than this? What would I say, if I could even think of anything?
Nothing came to mind, so I followed the men out.
“We’ve done well tonight, guys,” I said. “But three more remain. Let’s go home, get some rest, a
nd plan on our next attack tomorrow.”
With that, engines roared to live, handlebars were revved, and motorcycles took off.
Two bikes remained behind, never to be driven by their riders again.
4
Eve
“We are not just sitting around for Derek and the others to get back!”
I was trying to rest on the cot with Tara and Matty sitting at a coffee table, “amicably” chatting about the plans for the evening. I say trying, because it sounded nicer than “failing.”
I was beginning to understand why war and battle had such a hard drag on those who went through it. In any other life, a wound like this would be cause for an outpouring of grief, concern, and feelings. Friends and family would flock to the hospital, pray for me, and tell me how my injury was the worst thing they had ever seen, even though once I got to the hospital, my life was never in doubt.
Now? No one cared. I couldn’t care, not if I wanted to play a part in this mission. Wounds that didn’t prevent someone from fighting or kill them were superficial, nothing more than mere paint on the body as proof of combat.
But, damnit, I wish I could’ve gotten at least one full day of rest.
“Well, what the fuck would ya suggest?” Matty asked back, glaring over at Tara. “I mean, otherthan suckin’ dick fer cash?”
Tara gave him the middle finger. I put my arms over my head and on the pillow, in theory in an attempt to block their voices out. In reality, it was a gesture that I hoped would tell them to shut the hell up, but that was sadly too unlikely.
“Like you’d reallybe against taking a huge, hard cock down your fat, faggy throat, you douchebag! Besides, didn’t you say there were four locations? As in not one, not two, not even fucking three, but four locations?”
“Yeah, I did,” Roost said, shrugging his shoulders. “What of it?”
“What of it? What of it is this! Let’s go take out one of the other ones!” Tara said matter-of-factly.
Weren’t you crying on my shoulder just a couple of hours ago, saying you regretted everything that you did and you wouldn’t put me in the line of danger?
I didn’t begrudge Tara for this, but heavens, her anger and her streak of violence put mine to shame. I thought I liked to use violence against those who hurt me, but at least I only kept that to fantasies and self-defense. Tara sounded like the type of soldier who wanted to be on the front of the front lines, charging in kamikaze-style, drawing machine gun fire and thinking she’d survive it all.
I couldn’t take it anymore. I gave up on sleeping.
“Tara, I don’t know if that is a good idea,” I said, even though a part of me did want to do something, especiallyif that something was doing something destructive to the Black Falcons. “Do you forget what happened this morning? Do you not remember—”
“Oh, come off it, Eve! Like your puss ain’t getting juiced-up at just the idea of bringing the hammer down on those fucking assholes! You know full well you want revenge even more now after you nearly died! Don’t you lie to me about it!”
I cringed at that, inwardly cursing her for knowing me so well. I felt my eyes shift away, too embarrassed to look her in the eye, and she saw this for what it was. She started laughing, while Matty just looked like he was begging for an excuse for both of us to shut up so he could keep us here.
“Ah-ha! I knewit! You wanna kick some ass, too, don’t’cha?” Tara said, grinning towards me.
“I… well, I guess,” I said. “But that’s way different than actually going—”
“Then let’s go! Let’s do it!” Tara said, already jumping to her feet.
“Now, just wait a god-fuckin’-damn minute!” Matty said, standing up and blocking her path.
I swore, the only person who seemed totally unafraid of Matty angry was Tara. Even Derek seemed to have a healthy respect for the man they called Roost—which seemed less scary than what he was, closer to a Rhinoceros than a Rooster.
I’m not sure what it said about Tara that she didn’t seem scared of anyone. Only Rock had put the fear of God into her—and I was quite confident that had only happened with the benefit of endless beatings, rapes, and abuse. She probably had given him as much lip at first as she was Matty now.
“Derek is takin’ care of this. Him an’ the others. An’ we gotta—”
“Gotta—what?—wait for him!” Tara snarled, proving my point. “No fuckin’ thanks, tons of fun! You wanna sit here and play ‘Fairy Princess’ in need of rescue? Be my fucking guest! Figured you’d want to do the whole ‘white knight’ bit and, you know, protect us from certain harm, but, hey. who am I to judge? Maybe while we’re gone a big, black dick will find its way in here and you can—”
“How’s this for ‘Fairy-fuckin’-princess,’ slut-butt,” Matty growled, moving to grab her by the shoulder. “I ain’t lettin’ ya leave this—”
I sat up from the bed, now more than a little concerned that this encounter was about to get violent. I didn’t think Matty would strike her, but I couldn’t say the same for Tara. Tara spun back, knocking his hand away, and… only wagged a finger in his face. I didn’t even bother to hide my relief.
“Nuh-uh! Eve and I are going, and your cute little faggot-ass ain’t stopping us!” Tara lectured him before once more turning towards the door.
Wait, I’m going? I didn’t sign up for this! The hell are you doing, Tara?
“You can either come along and do your job that way, oryou can stay the hell out of our way!”
“Tara—”
“Don’t interrupt me, Eve, I’m getting Evil Roost to understand me!” she said, practically shrieking.
Did she even realize what she said?
“Christ, Tara, get yer panties outta their bunch and calm the fuck down!” Matty said, the war of escalating tones and words continuing. “Do ya even know where ye’re goin’?”
Tara stopped abruptly. Her eyes, momentarily wide and pleading, narrowed into determined slits as she stepped up to him through his hand on her shoulder.
But instead of bursting out into even greater outrage, she took on a very, very, very different tact.
“Come on, Roost,” she cooed, pouting her lower lip and running a hand along his arm. To anyone else it might have seemed a flirty gesture, but I was amazed at how easily she turned it into a friendly, almost sympathetic one for the sake of present company. “Aren’t you bored too?”
A long, strained silence passed. During that time, I stared, awed and disbelieving, at the scene before me while Tara held her demeanor, which hung somewhere between pleading, needing, and just bridging the point of full-on meltdown. I almost began to wonder if Roost actually had a romantic thing for Tara, questioning his homosexuality, and was beginning to let his feelings affect his decision making for her.
“Yeah, I am,” he said. “But ya know what that means? Nothin’! Cuz I’m not gonna be a goddamn idiot and go and get myself killed!”
“Fuck, Roost, you’re the worst!” Tara shouted, coming over to the bed and plopping down next to me in frustration. “Eve wants to go, don’t you, girl?”
“Tara,” I said, deciding to take a stand here. “Much as I want to see the Black Falcons suffer, look at this!”
I pulled apart my shirt, revealing the massive scar that still had stitches in it, not yet fully healed.
“I can fight in a pinch. But to go on the offense? That’s crazy.”
“You’re the worst too,” she grumbled, but she said it with a resigned smile, to which I shook her arm. She just shot me a look and a smile.
“What do we have leftover anyways, Matty?” I asked. “Might as well throw us a bone in some fashion.”
“Fine, just quit yer pleadin’ if I tell ya this?”
Tara nodded immediately.
“Thank heavens, that innocent routine ain’t foolin’ anyone by a slut like ya,” he said, rolling his eyes as he glanced over at me. “We got a church left, an old shoe factory, and some old retail store. We think the church i
s the most active.”
“Jesus ain’t gonna approve of that.”
“Nope, but Falcon does,” Matty said. “We ain’t religious here, but we got standards. Man probably thinks that we ain’t gonna attack him in a holy place.”
“Will we?”
Matty shrugged.
“Mission is to take out Falcon. However it takes.”
“Makes sense,” I said.
It did feel a tad wrong and a bit sacrilegious, but like Matty said, what mattered was taking out the Falcons. I’m sure we were all willing to say a few Hail Marys and Our Fathers to ask for forgiveness for taking out the closest thing to Satan in the real world.
But for the time being, I just wanted to sleep.
“Matty, Tara, can you let me sleep?” I said. “Turns out getting stabbed through the chest is kind of painful.”
“Ya ain’t say,” Matty said with a laugh.
Tara just kept quiet, perhaps feeling guilty for having left me, even though she had nothing to do with the attack and bore no responsibility. I put a hand on her arm, gave her a sympathetic look, and gently shook her, but it didn’t do much good.
“Yeah, that’s just as well, compared to yer other friend here who wants ya to go to war.”
“What?!?” Tara said, as if accusing her of the crime of eating healthy food. “I’m just doing my part to end the Falcons! Don’t you go mocking me, Roost, I’ll have your tongue pulled out and swallowed by one of your fag friends!”
“Yer welcome to try,” he said with a laugh.
But Tara nevertheless stood, continuing her trash talk of Matty as the two headed out. Just before shutting the door, Matty looked back and smiled.
“Yer in good hands here, Eve,” he said. “Derek oughta be back within the next coupla hours, and then ya two can do whatever ya want.”
Like we’re gonna do anything other than go home and go at it like animals. Still, for someone who could be so blunt and crass about his gay lovers, there was something oddly sweet about Matty’s innocent choice of words.
“Thanks, Matty,” I said, falling into the pillow.