As I drove, I kept my left arm on the window and my hand on my cheek, making it more difficult to identify me. Of course, if the Bandits knew what car I drove, this was all a moot exercise. I squeezed yellow lights as tightly as I could and even ran one red one en route to the store. I circled the lot until a spot opened up within the first few rows, and then hauled ass into it.
Before I got out of the car, I made a mental note of the fastest route through the store. Eggs on one side, swing through meat at the back, and then to the other side for veggies and fruits. If I saw oatmeal or some cereal on the front display as I made my way to the cashier, I’d grab some there too. Otherwise, I’d stick with the eggs, meat, and fruits and veggies. I had to keep this short.
And with that, I began the seemingly dangerous mad dash through the store.
I felt ridiculous with the sunglasses on, but not because I thought I looked stupid. It seemed so transparent to me that only I would wear something like this, making it too obvious for the Bandits to stalk and kidnap me later. But in reaching the aisle of eggs, no one said anything. I didn’t feel like I was being followed. I didn’t hear any snickers.
So far, so good. But we had a long way to go.
I made my way to the back of the store, grabbing some bacon, a big bag of chicken, and some steak—because I wanted to indulge myself a little bit. With the stress sure to follow, I needed to havesomethingto feel good about.
I got to the fruits and veggies aisle and just bought what I could in bulk. Apples, bananas, broccoli, peppers, mushrooms…I had a fear that I wouldn’t get to go grocery shopping for a while, and even if one of the Black Reapers returned my calls, I didn’t want to depend upon them anymore than I had to. They had enough on their plate.
Satisfied, I hurried to the front, grabbed two boxes of cereal, and found the oldest, most relaxed cashier I could find. It was an older woman, probably in her mid-to-late sixties, who simply nodded to me when I brought everything up. She had a look on her face that seemed to say,“I know. I understand.”I couldn’t have picked a better person, although a small part of me regretted not doing self-checkout.
As soon as I had my bags, I hurried to my car, unloaded everything, and took a seat inside. I took off my sunglasses and breathed a sigh of relief. I looked in the parking lot. There was one single motorcycle in one of the distant spots, but this actually reassured me. Bandits and Reapers alike tended to move in at least pairs, if not larger groups; a solo biker almost certainly would not act out of turn or try and hunt me down for anything.I hope.
I pulled out of the lot in a little bit more control than before and sped home, this time still squeezing the yellow lights but not feeling as much obligation to jam the reds as I had before. When I got to my apartment complex, I breathed a sigh of relief. I’d made it to this point. I just needed to get everything in.
I had to use both arms to carry my bags, so when I got to the top, I put one down and fumbled for my keys. And then my phone rang.
It wasn’t a number I recognized, but it had a Santa Maria area code. Perhaps it was one of the Black Reapers, using a member’s phone number.
“Hello?”
“Look up.”
I did so, only realizing after the fact that I’d done something very stupid.
Within a matter of seconds, I felt a hard hand wrap around my neck and my waist. I felt another person’s hand cover me as a strong grip took hold of me. I tried to squirm and get out, but the person had a tight chokehold on me. I bit into the person’s hand, which made them yell and scream, “Stupid bitch!” but it didn’t loosen the grip of the choker.
I clawed. I kicked, aiming for groins. I did whatever I could. I was…not…
But the visions…
My conscious…ness…
Eduardo was here…
And…
Everything went to black.
Mason
Igot back to the clubhouse first, having been the one to finish my patrol on the west and south sides.
Brock and Connor, however, weren’t far behind. We were supposed to only switch out on patrol when the next group of bikers had come out, and it appeared that the other three had, in fact, gone. As best as I could tell, those three entailed Butch, Zack, and Patriot, plus all of the club members and prospects scattered around town.
Three days in, and we hadn’t had any significant violence or danger. A couple of Bandits had taunted us at various points, informing us of the things they’d do to us and how they’d fuck our mothers, but we all knew their day was coming. Our goal wasn’t to have violence spill into the streets, but contain it, ideally to the neighborhood where they swarmed like fucking gnats.
Brock pulled up next, with Connor right behind him. The two of them got off their bikes.
“Nothing on your end?” I said.
Brock and Connor shook their heads.
“Lying low, wherever they are,” he said. “We might have to press them out eventually.”
