by Cole, Cassie
He hopped onto the bike, and I jumped on behind him. I wrapped only my left arm around his body to avoid squeezing his wound. The bike rumbled to life between my legs, and Hawk glanced over his shoulder to make sure I was ready.
“Go!”
He whirled the bike around, and then we shot away to the south so fast that I almost fell off the back. Hawk deftly maneuvered the bike around the damaged station wagon, then between the row of police cars. Most of the police were running over to the side to engage with a cluster of Copperheads who were fleeing into the woods behind Flop’s bar. The motorcycle engine roared louder as Hawk sped away, and within seconds all the police, Copperheads, and gunfire was fading behind us.
Hawk rode to the edge of town, then pulled over onto a dirt road. “Hop off,” he said.
I obeyed, then realized he wasn’t going to do the same. “Where are you going?”
“To get your mom.”
I started to laugh, but then he was zooming back toward the distant firefight in a flash. I barely had any time to start worrying before he was coming back, with my Momma clutching onto the back.
“Oh my!” she said when he pulled to a stop. “Thank you very much, young man!”
“Any time,” he said with a smile.
Momma gave me an excited, wide-eyed look. She’d never been on a motorcycle before.
“Now what?” I asked.
Hawk turned to Momma. “Want me to go rescue your husband?”
She snorted. “I’d love for you to, but he’s too much of a fool to come with you. Still thinks he can wave his gun with the best of them. Don’t bother.”
“Then I guess we stay here…” Hawk began to say, then trailed off.
Another bike came shooting down the road away from the fight. It was a Harley, with the rider leaned all the way back. As he drew closer, the dreadlocks trailing behind his head like tentacles were unmistakable.
Sid.
From behind, I saw Hawk snarl. He pulled out his pistol and took aim just as Sid was passing us. The pistol barked once, twice, and a third time as Hawk’s hand swiveled to follow the fleeing Copperhead. Then the man was gone, turning down the next road and disappearing behind the trees.
Hawk lowered the pistol. His hand shook with rage, or disappointment, or both.
My heart ached for Hawk in that moment. He’d finally had a clear chance at getting his revenge, and he’d missed. He would likely never get another chance like that again.
Then the grief on his handsome face twisted into determination. He threw his leg back over the bike.
“No!” I shouted, jumping on the back. “Don’t follow him!”
“I have to, Peaches. Get off.”
“He’ll kill you!” I insisted, squeezing my arms tight around him. He grunted from his wound, and I moved my right arm a little higher. “Don’t you have something worth living for?”
“What are you saying?” he growled.
I pressed my body against his back, burying my face in his hair, and breathed in his smell. “You know what I’m saying, Hawk. Us.”
He quivered underneath my arms. “Last chance to get off the bike.”
“No,” I insisted. “If you’re going to risk your own life so haphazardly just to go after this man, then you’re going to have to risk mine too.”
I thought it was checkmate. He might be cavalier about putting himself in danger, but he wouldn’t do the same with my life. As long as I clung to his body, he couldn’t go after Sid.
I was wrong.
“Hold on, Peaches,” he said before shooting down the road after the leader of the Copperheads.
46
Hawk
We soared down the road as fast as I dared, away from one danger and toward another. Charlotte clung to my body as if I could provide her safety.
I’m the one putting her in danger, now.
I shouldn’t have been chasing Sid. Charlotte was right: I did have something to live for, something which filled me with more hope than I’d ever known. She was on the back of my bike, putting her own life at risk to try to convince me not to risk my own.
But I knew we could never be together if Sid lived. That man had killed my sister. The hate I felt for him had grown like an infection, rotting away my insides. If I skipped this opportunity to get revenge, I would regret it for the rest of my life. I would resent Charlotte for keeping me from it.
I didn’t want to have that between us. It would doom us from the start.
I twisted the throttle with my right arm, which tensed the muscles in my side enough to make my wound ache. I wasn’t bleeding as much as I had been, but the rush of the bike was making me dizzy. Distantly, I knew that was probably the lack of blood.
Distantly, I didn’t give a fuck.
I caught up to Sid while he was on the frontage road next to the interstate, the same one Charlotte and I had cleaned on our first few days of community service. He didn’t notice that we were gaining on him. With my right hand I reached down and pulled the shotgun off its holster next to my leg, and took careful aim. I didn’t want to ruin the opportunity while he was unaware, and my arm wasn’t steady.
Before I could shoot, he glanced back and saw us. I fired, a sound so loud it was like stuffing cotton into my ears, but Sid swerved out of the way right as I pulled the trigger. He drifted back the other way and I shot again. He flinched from the gunshot, but again remained untouched.
Sid reached back an arm and began returning fire with his pistol. In my haste to grab the steering wheel I dropped the shotgun. Sid fired blindly while he rode, a hand extended behind him without looking, and although none of the shots came close to hitting me, I slowed down and swerved anyways.
He’s gonna get on the interstate, I thought. He would probably lose us if he did. I pulled out my pistol and fired again, hoping to land a blow before he escaped, but shooting from a bike was practically impossible. Three shots later and the pistol was out of ammo too.
I tossed it aside as the on-ramp for the interstate appeared, cursing to myself.
But Sid didn’t take it. He veered right, then turned down the next road heading back in the direction of town. He must think he can still rally the other Copperheads. Hopefully by now they were all captured, or dead.
I hoped my old friend Brick was one of the former, and not the latter.
Sid’s Harley struggled on the winding dirt road, but my Indian Scout was made for this kind of terrain. I kept pace with Sid easily through the turns in the woods. I was afraid he had another gun and was waiting for us to get close before shooting, so I kept a respectable distance. Enough to keep him within sight.
I’m coming, I thought while staring at the skull logo on the back of his jacket. I’m coming for you, Sid.
I didn’t realize what road we were on until it opened up into the clearing abruptly. Sid wasn’t expecting the wide stone wall to block his path, and he made a hard left turn to avoid it, but it was too sharp and his tires slid out in the gravel. The slide slowed them enough that when he hit the stone wall it didn’t kill him, but it looked like it hurt.
I slowed my bike to a stop and said, “Stay back,” to Charlotte over my shoulder.
“Do you want me to call the police?” she asked.
“No.” I didn’t want the cops to witness what I was about to do. What I’d been fantasizing about doing.
I approached the leader of the Copperheads in a quick walk, hesitating just enough to dart away if he came up shooting. Sid pushed the bike off himself and staggered to his feet. The left side of his face was scraped raw and bloody with gravel, and he was cradling his left arm against his body. But he had no weapon except the crowbar strapped to his back, which he grabbed and pointed at me.
“Stay back, Hawk,” he said with the same cocky smile. Like he wasn’t in a bad position at all. “I’ll break your fucking skull.”
“You can try,” I growled as I approached slowly. Hawk continued backing up, moving toward the gate at the edge of the s
tone wall.
The gate to the back entrance of the Eastland cemetery.
“How’s about we make a deal?” Sid said. “You walk away, and I won’t kill your girlfriend over there.”
Blood covered his teeth, turning his sneer into a gruesome sight. But there was an edge to his voice I’d never heard. He was scared.
Good, I thought.
I backed him into the cemetery, still keeping my distance. “You’re not in a position to kill anyone.”
He glanced behind him as he walked, occasionally swinging the crowbar through the air to make sure I wouldn’t get closer. “Oh, I don’t know. I’ve got lots of friends who owe me lots of favors. I’m sure one of them wouldn’t mind bashing that pretty little thing’s skull in. Hell, I bet I can find someone who’d enjoy it.”
He was trying to goad me into making a mistake. Based on the rage that filled my chest, it was working. We moved deeper into the cemetery.
“Give up, Sid,” I said. “Toss down the crowbar and I’ll make your death quick.”
“Got a buddy from California named Ume,” Sid said wistfully. “Japanese guy. Real sicko when it comes to killing people.”
“Shut up,” I growled as we moved between the gravestones.
“He’d probably bash her skull in, then fuck the hole.”
I was like a bull enraged by a matador; I couldn’t stop myself from charging forward. I knew it was what he wanted, but my love for Charlotte and the fundamental desire to protect her forced me to attack. I lowered my head to tackle him, but he twisted and swung the crowbar into my shoulder. I fell to the ground with a cry, fire spreading up my arm and then instantly going numb. I threw myself sideways into a roll instinctively, and felt the rush of wind as the crowbar hissed through the air where my head had just been.
“You hit like a little boy,” I said as I regained my feet a short distance away. I circled Sid again, waiting for my chance. “Hit like a little boy, talk like a little boy, think like a little boy. It’s no wonder your shitty fucking gang got busted.”
“A gang you were part of!” he shot back.
“Was,” I admitted. “Righting that wrong was the best decision I ever made.”
Sid’s laugh was high-pitched and giddy. “I’ll bet it was. I’m sure Theresa would say the—”
I faked a charge again, and he was ready for it with another swing of the crowbar. This time I caught a glancing blow against my shoulder while twisting away, which still stung like fucking hell.
“That was her name, right?” Sid said. “It’s tough to keep track of all the annoying cunts I’ve killed.”
I darted in and out again, taking another blow against the hip. Then a second strike against the side of my shin, sending white hot pain from my toes to my knee. I stumbled but kept the pressure on. Getting hit like this was worth it to figure out Sid’s timing. He was on the defensive, and predictable.
I pulled back my fist as if to dart in and swing, but instead I threw myself down and into a roll. The crowbar swung through open air and I punched the side of Sid’s knee. He buckled, and I grabbed the wrist holding the crowbar and twisted until I heard something crunch. The crowbar thudded to the ground.
As I tried to move into my next attack, Sid smashed his knee into my jaw. My teeth clicked together so hard that I would’ve bit my tongue off if it had been in the wrong place. For a moment my vision spun, and Sid tackled me like a 200 pound sack of grain swinging from a rope. I fumbled with my one good arm, and he with his, as we rolled across the cemetery trying to get the advantage over the other.
Somehow I ended up on my belly with Sid on top, digging his knee into my neck. His hand grabbed a handful of my hair and pushed my face into the dirt.
“Time to die, Hawk,” Sid said through gritted teeth. “Time. To. Die.”
The soft ground gave way for my face, molding to it and filling my mouth and nose. I tasted earth as I struggled and bucked to get him off of me. Loose dirt filled my lungs with each gasping breath, slowly suffocating me.
I will not die like this.
With a roar I bucked my legs, throwing him off me. His head hit one of the gravestones, giving me the time I needed to straddle his body and stare down at his hideous face. A face I’d dreamed of pummeling.
I punched him once, twice, a third time. His face was like clay beneath my fist, and I was an artist working on his masterpiece. His nose broke on my fourth punch, gushing blood down his mouth and chin. Throughout it all he laughed, laughing at my anger and pain, laughing at everything he’d done to me.
I wanted to grab his head with both hands and smash it against the gravestone. His laughter almost made me do it.
Then I saw what grave we were above, and what gravestone was next to his head.
Theresa Alexandra Hawkins
Born: March 1, 1994
Died: March 19, 2019
The graves of my parents were next to hers, side-by-side in the daylight. The three gravestones seemed like they were judging me. Watching to see what kind of man I’d become.
I was filled to the brim with fury. I had to let it out, to channel my wrath into the man who had taken everything from me. I wanted it more than any drug.
But the gravestones stopped me. I was on the edge of jumping over the cliff, so close to murdering this man, but I couldn’t do it here. Not in front of them.
And if I couldn’t do it here, I couldn’t do it anywhere.
The rage filling me to the brim began to recede.
Sid’s laughter bubbled up from his bloody face. “What’s. The. Matter?” he struggled to say. “Too. Pussy. To. Kill. Me?”
I gave him one last punch for good measure, then wiped my bloody fist on his shirt. “Too much of a man to kill you.”
Sid laughed like that was the funniest joke in the world, but he was too defeated to do anything else.
My left arm still stung, but the feeling was coming back. Enough for me to hold the crowbar in my left hand while dragging Sid across the cemetery with my right. We passed through the gate and into the parking lot, where Charlotte was still waiting on my bike.
“Oh thank God!” she cried, sprinting forward to hug me. Fire flared up from my gunshot wound, but the sweetness of her embrace was stronger than the pain in my side. I held her close and put my nose in her blonde hair so I could smell her scent. Anything to remove the stink of Sid from my nostrils.
She kissed me, then licked her lips. “You taste like dirt. No offense.”
“I bet I do.”
She gestured at Sid, who was laying on his back with his eyes closed. “You didn’t kill him?”
“No,” I said. The revelation was part satisfaction, part disappointment. Like the last bite of a chocolate cake. “But he almost killed me. I’ve gotta admit, Peaches. I was hoping you’d come charging in there to help me.”
Her eyes widened with outrage. “You told me to wait here!”
“Since when do you listen to what I tell you?”
“Since now.” She shrugged. “Plus, it was good advice. If I went in there with you, he could have grabbed me and used me against you. If I’ve learned one thing in my time in Eastland, it’s that I don’t want to be the leverage someone uses to hurt you.”
I held her hand and gave it a comforting squeeze. “We’ll never have to worry about that again, Peaches.” I looked at my bike, and then at Sid. “Let’s call the cops. Or, at least, your dad.”
Right as I said that, police sirens drifted through the woods toward us. Not from the back road we’d just used to enter the cemetery, but from the main road by the diner. I arched an eyebrow as they drew near.
“Okay!” Charlotte said. “So I only listened to most of what you told me.”
I pulled her back into an embrace. “I forgive you, Peaches. But just this once.”
We held each other close as the police arrived.
47
Charlotte
Hawk and I rode in the back of a police cruiser, holding hands along the way. I
don’t know why, but I didn’t want to let go of him. He seemed to feel the same.
“It started three weeks ago, when you first got charged,” my dad said from the front passenger seat. “I was calling around to all my contacts to see if we could pull some strings and, you know, get some leniency. But everyone said to avoid Eastland like the plague. That messing around with the local politics here was a good way to get killed.”
“So you decided to round up a posse and do just that?” Hawk said. I couldn’t tell if he was incredulous or impressed. Maybe both.
“Not at first,” my dad said. “This was all information gathering. I couldn’t believe that all of these police officers and sheriffs were afraid of a single town! But there was one theme across everyone I talked to: they wanted to see something done, and wanted to be part of it. They just needed the numbers to actually take on the Copperheads. Once I started organizing everyone…” He shrugged. “A closed fist is stronger than a bunch of individual fingers.”
“Your father is a brave man,” the policewoman driving the cruiser said. “None of us would’ve stood up to Sid without his coordination.”
“I’m just a small town sheriff,” my dad said, but I could see him blushing.
We pulled up to the sheriff’s office, which was now a hive of activity. At least 20 cruisers were parked outside, with twice as many police officers walking in and out with Copperheads. The biker gang was being held temporarily in the cells inside, and brought outside one-by-one for individual questioning. In a ring around the outside were at least two dozen Eastland citizens watching with smiles on their faces.
We got out, and the other cruiser that pulled up next to ours opened up to reveal Sid. Two officers dragged him out and made the walk up into the sheriff’s office. One officer started clapping, then another. Within seconds everyone, police officer and Eastland citizen alike, were applauding the capture of the leader of the Copperheads.
“Pretty good day,” I said.
Hawk wrapped an arm around my shoulder. “Not all good.”