Chapter Seventeen
“We strike tonight!” Drac bellows, slamming his fists down on the sturdy wood table.
A few members jump, but all of them look shook up or angry.
Last night, their latest shipment was intercepted by the Raging Misfits, leading to a firefight they couldn’t win. They lost two cars worth of stolen goods, and now they’re freaking out, especially since they’re down a man.
Thankfully, Phantom wasn’t one of the people sent out on last night’s errand. But Jaws was, and he ended up in the hospital with a bullet wound to the belly.
“I’m sick of this shit!” Drac rages on. “The Raging Misfits are only getting worse. The longer they stay under Arturo’s control, the worse off it’ll get. Like Phantom said in our last meeting. Arturo wants my head, and I’m going to give him it, but not before I take his first.”
“What are you saying?” Krampus questions, looking a bit shocked.
“I’m saying that I want Arturo gone! Dead! I want his goddamn head rolling at my feet and then pegged on our doorstep as a warning to anyone who dares to fuck with the Elm Street Riders. We don’t fucking play around anymore. I’m not going to sit back and just let them take what’s rightfully ours.
“What about Amber?” Voorhees questions. “What if something happens to you out there?”
“Nothing’s going to happen to me, Voorhees. Because I’m going to strike them where they least expect it.”
“And where’s that?” Hyde questions, his shifty eyes narrowing.
“Their clubhouse. I’m going after that motherfucker face to goddamn face.”
Hasn’t Drac learned that Hyde is not to be trusted? Why is he telling him all this?
My gaze moves to Krueger, who looks equally concerned.
“Can’t you stop them, Ghost Pappy? Hyde’s dirty. I can see it in his eyes. He’s going to get them hurt!”
Krueger nods. “I know, Eve. But there’s nothing I can do. I’m dead. My son is head of the club now. If this is the ride he wants to take, then I have to let him.”
“It’s a goddamn suicide mission!” I shout, my anger getting the best of me. “He’s putting them all at risk.”
Damien steps forward. “Sometimes you gotta take risks to make big moves, Dollface. It’s a club thing. You wouldn’t understand.”
“You’re right, I don’t fucking understand. How can you two just stand there and let them do this? It’s wrong. Something about this feels off.”
Krueger’s jaw clenches. “And there’s not a single thing we can do about it, Eve. That’s just how wars are. One side hits and the other counters. They’re just not seeing the bigger picture. Not yet, anyway.”
I’m in Phantom’s ear before they can stop me. “Stop this, Phantom. Tell them they’re making a mistake. Please. You’re starting a fight you can’t win.”
He ignores me, fists clenching as he fights to keep his tongue.
“Just tell us what to do, Prez. We got your back,” Phantom states, even though fear flashes in his eyes.
“No! Please, stop this. You can’t go. I won’t let you. I can’t let you—”
But my cries for a cease fire fall on deaf ears. The Elm Street Riders didn’t want this war, but now that it’s on their doorstep, they won’t back down. They’re either going to win the fight, or everything they’ve built will go up in smoke.
Phantom takes a deep breath as he stands crouched down just outside the Misfit’s clubhouse with a gun in his hand, sweat dripping down his brow in sheets. None of them are prepared for what’s about to happen, and I feel helpless.
A young kid stands just outside the door, but nobody notices him. He’s blending into the shadows, his eyes haunted and lost. He blinks a few times before noticing me hovering near Phantom, and smirks.
“You know they are waiting for them, right?” he shouts from the doorway.
“Huh?”
He inches closer, his face fully coming into view in the moonlight, a single gunshot wound taking up most of his forehead. “The Misfits. They’re prepared to attack, and know they’re coming.”
Fuck. It’s just as I expected; my guts never wrong.
The way his smile spreads makes me feel so uneasy. “I’ve been waiting for this moment for years,” he states, rubbing his hands together vigorously.
“What do you have against the Elm Street Riders?”
His laugh is filled with conviction and hate as he points to his face. “That bastard Drac did this to me,” he growls. “All of them deserve to die.”
The words hit harder than they should, fear consuming me.
“I’m not going to let you hurt them.”
He laughs evilly. “It’s too late, sweetheart.” His head motions to Voorhees, who’s seconds away from smashing down their door. Before he can, the first shot rings out, barely missing him as the wood of the door splinters and reveals a giant hole.
“Fuck! It’s a trap, everybody, scramble,” Voorhees shouts, just as the Misfits throw open the door, and appear from behind buildings with their guns drawn and firing.
A bullet whizzes by Phantom’s head, just as another nicks Krampus in the shoulder.
“Goddamn it,” he swears. “We’re fucking outnumbered.” Krampus clutches his shoulder, but lets off a clean shot that goes right through one of their member’s heads.
His soul springs up a few seconds later, blinking like he’s awakening for the first time. “Shit, did I just die?”
The other Misfit ghost appears before him and sticks a finger through the hole in his chest. “Yup. You’re dead. Just like me. Just like her.” He motions to me, but I’m too busy worrying about Phantom to really care. They can’t hurt me, not really.
Not unless they somehow hurt Phantom.
That big biker and the girl from the other day, sneak out the back. He pushes her towards a car that’s already started and waiting for them.
The bastard! He’s not even a true biker. Who the fuck chooses a car instead of a motorcycle for a getaway?
“Arturo’s getting away!” Drac yells, moving towards where he’s trying to stuff the girl in the vehicle.
“Wesley, help!” she screams right before he cracks her across the face, knocking her unconscious.
Voorhees moves like a fucking linebacker, blowing his way through Misfit fire as he races after her. “Poppy!” he screams just as the door slams and the car takes off, the bastard getting away. He opens fire, blowing out the car’s back window but missing whoever is driving.
Another shot rings out, and it tings above Voorhees' head, forcing him and the others to take cover behind the clubhouse building. It’s the only cover they got, but something feels off. It feels like they’re corralling them, controlling where they go.
That’s when I hear the ticking. It’s faint, but it’s continuous. Getting louder as the seconds pass by.
My body shifts through the wall, taking in the mechanisms ticking down the seconds, and the dynamite strapped behind them that are taped to every wall, all of them ready to blow.
“Oh no. Please no.”
My spirit moves before I can stop it, passing back through the wall, mouth dropping in horror when I see each of them crowding behind the building, shooting off shots every few seconds.
“No, you guys gotta run. Move!”
Nobody hears me. They’re too busy fighting for their lives.
A shadow appears nearby, its red eyes blinking, watching me for my next move.
“Don’t just stand there! Do something! Warn them!”
It cocks its head to the side, but stays in the shadows.
“Goddamn it, Phantom. Listen to me. You gotta move! There’s a bomb. RUN!”
Fear plagues his eyes, but it’s not because of my words; it’s because he knows they’re outnumbered.
I have to do something.
He needs to see the danger lurking on the other side.
There’s nothing to throw. Nothing to make him hear me, so I do the only thing I can think of… I focus. Willing my spirit to form in front of his eyes, appearing like a beacon of light and hope.
He blinks a few times, almost like he can’t believe what he’s seeing.
“Eve?”
My face only appears long enough to shout the word “Bomb!” before my energy deflates and my image fizzles to nothing.
I collapse to the ground, unable to move from focusing all my energy into manifesting for two unbearable seconds. Everything clicks for him after that. He glances into the window behind him, sees the dynamite strapped to the walls, and reacts.
“BOMB!” he shouts, tripping over himself as he rushes away from the wall. “EVERYBODY GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM THEIR CLUBHOUSE!”
They only get a few feet away from the building before it explodes, sending their bodies sailing into the air, and the aftermath to rain down on them in a fiery cloud of shrapnel and splintered wood. Sealing their fate.