Chapter 43
43
Scorpio
Time’s been moving funny since I left Justice to come to Roaring Brook. I’ve either been drunk, or asleep, or in that weird state in between where things are just happening around me and I’m letting them pass me by. It’s a good state. It saves me having to think about anything important. Or anything at all if I don’t want to. There are so many things I don’t want to think about. The war with the Devils isn’t even on the top of my list. I try to be angry. At Karma and Grim. At all the rest of the shit I had to survive. At the Devils. But even that just passes me by.
Trouble is, there’s things I never want to forget. Like that first night Karma gave herself to me under the faint light of the cabin. Or dozing off with her in my arms on all those lazy afternoons by the lake. Or the campsite and my first time with Grim. The way he held back not to hurt me. The way he let go when I asked him to. And everything in between. I don’t want to forget any of it.
And that’s a problem. One that all the whiskey in the world can’t seem to erase. I’m kinda hoping death will. But even then, I’m not sure I won’t just be sent back as a ghost, forced to trail them around with no chance of ever touching them again. With my luck, that’s likely what will happen.
I drink even more when my mind starts firing in that direction. But it doesn’t help.
Joker followed me to Roaring Brook almost immediately, bringing practically the entire MC with him. Sometime after that, we cleared out of the town and let the Devils take the town, watching it burn from a safe distance. And tonight our whole MC plus some others are fighting the Devils. Not in the hills around Justice as was the original plan, but on some desert plain with barely enough rocks and bushes to hide behind. Joker thinks that should level the playing field between the Devils and us. I don’t see how. I also don’t know why he changed his plan and has us fighting here, but I suspect it’s because of his feelings for Eden. Not that I care much about love one way or another anymore.
I’ve been sober all day, having just enough to stop any shakes that might come. But honestly, I don’t even get those. Joker’s always so worried I’ll drown at the bottom of a bottle. I wish that would happen. But it never does.
I’m glad for it now. Because no matter what, I want to be here, giving it my all for my brothers and all the others that have joined us tonight to fight the Devils.
The sun’s setting, but it’s not quite there yet. The desert sand is like gold, glowing mutely in the sun’s last light. It’s one of the more beautiful things I’ve ever seen.
The force we’ve amassed to fight the Devils is a beautiful thing too. Men all armed and ready to fight to the death. To get their revenge.
I hear the thunder of approaching bikes before I see the dust they’re kicking up getting here. That’s glowing red and gold now. Also beautiful. Also a thing to remember.
There are no rules in a battle like this. No lining up on opposite sides of the field like they did back in the day, no bracing, no brave speeches by our leaders. Joker already held one of those earlier today for everyone gathered—our men and a bunch of others, from other MCs that want revenge just as badly as we do. He said a lot of things. I mostly remember him telling us not to try and save our bullets. I thought it was funny. I might’ve laughed. I don’t remember.
No one’s saving bullets.
We let them fly at the approaching Devils as soon as they became visible on the horizon. They came from all sides.
The sky turns blood red. There’s beauty in this too. And in all the dust sparkling in the dying sunset as the Devils reach us and the fight begins in earnest.
Soon my mouth is so dry I can barely swallow and my hands ache from firing all the bullets I’m not saving. Some fly true. Some miss and maybe hit something further down in their dusty path. Something I can’t see.
I can’t see much. Not the faces of friends, not the faces of enemies. The red scarves our MC is wearing help tell us apart. The Devils are wearing bandanas and that helps too.
Through it all, I can feel Grim’s laser eyes on me like fire, hotter than this evening in the desert. But I’ve yet to see him anywhere. So I’m probably feeling his gaze on me just because I wish it was there.
A lot of men are already down, face up, face down, on their sides in the dust, in pools of dry blood because the thirsty desert soil drinks it up as soon as it’s spilt. Time is moving funny again. I feel like this fight has been raging for years, then minutes, then decades and I can’t tell which it is.
Until all time stops and stands still.
There she is. Karma. Her long blonde hair braided and flying around her as she fights a guy twice her size, the dust around them sparkling gold and red. Grim isn’t with her. But I’m sure he’s not far. And I want to be near to her too. The pull is too strong for anger to stop, for common sense to ease, for pointlessness to erase. I need the answers to my whys. And if that answer is just a single bullet to the face from her gun, so be it. I’ll take it.
It’s not hard to reach her. I’d fight off a hundred men to do it. All I have to fight are four. And then she sees me. And freezes, pain, happiness, sorrow, longing, and just a spark of desire etched on her face. I’m not sure what’s on mine, but I pull my scarf off so she can see it.
She rushes towards me, the fight she was in forgotten. I lower my weapons too. She’ll either stab me, shoot me or hug me. Either way I’ll have her close again. Maybe close enough to touch. That’d be a dream of several days and nights finally come true.
“Why did you betray me?” I ask, loud enough to be heard over the grunts. And gunfire all around us.
“I’m sorry,” she yells. “It was never what I wanted.”
The guy she was fighting isn’t down. He’s one of the ones that joined us at the last minute. A Dogs of Satan member. And he’s raising his gun. I see Grim running towards him out of the dust, charging like a wolf from the shadows. But he can’t reach him before the guy raises his gun and aims it at Karma’s back.
There’s no time for words, no time for answers. I don’t even think, I just react, grabbing her arm and pulling her behind me, stopping the bullet meant for her with my side. It burns like all the fires of hell and finally brings me to my senses.
Taking a bullet for this lying traitor? I am insane.
Grim must’ve taken the guy out, because the next thing I know, they’re both huddled over me, Grim checking the wound in my side, while Karma caresses my cheeks, tears leaving tracks in the dust clinging to hers.
“We never meant to leave you,” she’s assuring me. “It all happened so fast.”
“Are you hurt bad? Can you stand? We need to get out of this dust,” Grim is saying, putting pressure on the throbbing pain in my side, making it even more hellish.
I push him away. I push them both away and manage to stand.
I got my answer. They didn’t mean to betray me. They thought they were doing me a favor. Thought they were saving me. Great. They still betrayed me. And now here we are.
They try to come to me again, but I stagger back, nearly losing my balance again.
“Stay away,” I tell them. “You’ve done enough damage. Either finish me off or get the fuck away from me before I kill you.”
Karma is sobbing. Grim looks like I’ve taken away his favorite toy. In the dusty distance, Joker is fighting a guy one-handed, his other arm hanging uselessly by his side, covered in crimson blood.
He needs my help. He’s the only person in my life who never betrayed me. The only one who always stood by me. Always did right by me. No matter what.
And here I am, taking a bullet for a woman who sold me out to my worst enemy. And wanting to believe her lies when she tells me she’s sorry. I should be taking bullets for Joker. And our brothers.
“We wanted to stop this from happening,” Grim says. “All of this. And it was my idea to try and rescue Eden. Karma was against it.”
“Shut up, I don’t want to hear it,” I say and eventually manage to stand firmly enough to start making my way to Joker.
They’re walking after me. Shielding me. Begging me to listen. I don’t.
“I’m gonna finish this standing with those who never betrayed me,” I tell them. “So either kill me or disappear. Stop following me.”
I think they do. I don’t know, because I don’t look back. I just keep walking. Their apologies, lying or real, mean nothing to me. They change nothing. This is the eleventh hour.
The dust is just dust now. No golden glow left. As it should be. There’s no beauty in any of this. And none to look forward to. There’s only vengeance. Only justice.
And every dead or wounded Devil I step over to get to Joker is a part of that justice. It’s cruel and heartless and bleak. But right. Exactly as it needs to be.