The Biker's Fate Chapter 703

Razor

WE PACKED UP and took off right away. Seven of us, five on bikes, two in a follow van, driving straight through the night, headed east to Idaho. Highway 84 stretching out like the icy finger on the hand of death, from Portland all the way to Twin Falls. We made the run in record time, stopping only for gas, bike maintenance, and two well-timed half-hour rest stops. Hatch, Booker, Flea, Train, and Harm were all seasoned road dogs. Cash was my closest friend, and Booker's son, and as much as I insisted he sit this one out, he refused. Eight hours spent mostly in the saddle isn't the kindest thing to do the human body, but not a man among us would admit to the slightest discomfort while on the road. Out here, we're 'road hard,' driven on by a common goal. A shared purpose. We rode not only to avenge Waverly, but to get justice for everyone Damon Mechem had ever hurt. His list of offenses was long, and we intended for him to stand accountable for each and every crime he'd ever committed.

We pulled into the town of Twin Falls at the break of dawn, like a posse who'd been sent for by the local sheriff in some old western. The Primal Howlers were twelve hours away, so couldn't send any scouts ahead to confirm Cupid's location, but fortunately Sundance had a solid contact that was willing to help in Burley, which was only a forty-five minute ride away.

"Chappy" was a non-affiliated biker, who farmed sugar beets and cannabis, and on occasion rode with the Howlers whenever they rode through the area. He was more than happy to do a favor for Sundance and his club and was able to confirm Cupid was at his half-sister's just as Booker suspected. Hatch spoke with Chappy directly during our first fuel up. Apparently, the two long-lost siblings were holed up in Sorcha's immobile home and appeared to be on the downside of a meth binge. Chappy said he only had to peek through the torn curtains and tinfoil in the windows to see the pair of meth zombies crashed out inside the trailer.

Chappy told Hatch, "Barring any surprises, looks like a classic fish in a barrel type of scenario."

And Chappy was right. Well, mostly right anyway.

Having left our bikes down the road a little to avoid waking anyone, we rolled up to Sorcha's neighborhood at just past seven a.m., which was about equal to midnight in tweaker time. While the rest of the civilized world was either off to, or already at work, the meth zombies were turning in after a long night of twitching, scratching, and sweating.

Cash, Train, and I quietly made our way to the mobile home while the others stayed in the van, ready to receive the cargo and take off. True to Chappy's scouting report, a quick peek inside the trailer revealed our two-person family reunion participants passed out cold. Cupid was on the couch, while baby sister laid sprawled out on the filthy carpet. They didn't even stir as we made entry through the unlocked door.

"How do you wanna do this?" Cash whispered.

I nodded to Cupid. "How about Cash grabs Cupid while you keep an eye on the sister and make sure she doesn't go anywhere?"

"The fuck you gonna do?" Cash asked.

"I'll watch your backs in case of any surprises," I replied.

Cash twisted up his face in a 'whatever' expression and I gave him the finger.

"Okay, each of you get ready to grab 'em," I whispered. "On three. One, two—"

Before I could get to three, Sorcha grabbed a nearby pair of scissors off the floor and stabbed Cash in the calf.

Cash let out a holler appropriate for getting stabbed in the fucking shin and quickly silenced himself. But it was too late, Cupid shot up from his place on the couch.

I may be wrong, but I'm pretty sure I heard Train giggle the words, "Back to sleep," before clocking Cupid directly on the chin. It was a little hard to make out anything over Sorcha's wails.

"Get your motherfucking hands off my brother!" Sorcha screeched.

"Shut her the fuck up," I yelled to Cash.

"I'm trying," he replied as he wrestled around on the floor with a ninety-eight-pound meth zombie.

Train and I bust out laughing and believe me when I say that we were laughing hard.

"Get this creepy spider chick the fuck off me," Cash called out as he bled all over the forty-year-old mobile home carpet.

I looked at Train.

"She's trying to bite me," Cash squealed.

"I'm not hitting a woman," Train protested. "He's your best friend. You help him."

I sighed before lending a hand to my brother in arms, who had now joined in on the laughter. "She's got the strength of ten tweakers," he cried out in between fits.

I grabbed her by the shoulders, picked her up, and flung her across the room onto a junk laden dining room table, where she struggled long enough for us to beat a hasty retreat outside with Cupid in tow. Train held the front door closed from the outside, trapping demon Sorcha inside while we got Cupid into the van. Once Hatch and Booker had Cupid secured, Train let go of the flimsy aluminum door and hauled ass toward us, making his way inside mere seconds before Sorcha reached the van. As we sped off, we could hear her howling in the distance like a possessed banshee.

"Holy, fuck. That was exciting," Train said as we sped off toward the highway.

"She fucking stabbed me," Cash yelled.

Train pulled up Cash's blood-soaked pant leg to reveal an inch wide stab wound that went down to the bone."

"I'm gonna have to stitch that up right away," Hatch said, looking at the wound. "There's a medic kit in the glove box."