Chapter 29
Drifter
I don’t like this one bit.
Trusting Veronica to safely extract Skye while we wait outside as fucking backup was a bad idea. Veronica’s already admitted that she’s been feeding information to the Demon Riders the whole time. Who’s to say she hasn’t led us into a trap?
We’re in an abandoned ghost town, a bunch of old houses that haven’t been lived in for decades. The only people who come through here are homeless drifters, junkies, and criminal gangs. I spent many a night in places like this before I found the Angels of Havoc. Angel, Buzz, Gunner, and I are waiting in a nearby house, watching for Veronica’s sign. Several other members are dotted around the town, awaiting Angel’s instructions. We had to leave our bikes outside of the town’s limits so they wouldn’t hear us coming, there’s an extraction team there, should we need a quick getaway. The stillness of the town in the hazy morning light feels otherworldly and I can’t help the feeling of foreboding.
As much as I don’t like the plan, Angel’s right, Veronica’s the best chance we’ve got of getting Skye out safely without it turning into a full-on blood bath. With Skye possibly pregnant with one of our kids, there’s even more of an incentive to do this as quickly and quietly as possible.
That doesn’t make it any easier for me to sit here doing nothing.
My mind is racing as I consider the very real possibility that, if Skye makes it out of this alive, I could be a father. The thought of losing Skye again but in a far more permanent way feels like a knife in my ribcage. And now I know she might be carrying my child I can hardly hold myself back from rushing inside and killing every motherfucker I see just to get them back safely.
I’ve never told anyone this. Not even the guys. But I’ve always wanted to have kids.
They’d probably be surprised to hear that. Given my shitty childhood and all. But that’s why I want to be a dad so badly. I want to give a child all of the love and care that it deserves, that I never got and so many other little kids don’t get.
Veronica’s been in there a while now and we still haven’t gotten the signal. I don’t know if that’s a good thing or not. There are so many different ways this could go down. We don’t even know how many Demon Riders are inside, though we’ve seen at least three silhouettes moving around upstairs from our hiding spot down the road.
“She’s taking too long,” I mutter, my knee bouncing with pent-up energy and anxiety. “We should go in.”
Angel glances at me, a small frown on his forehead. “Give her a bit longer. Could be that Bill is coming down here. We could catch the slimy fuck red-handed.”
“More like put a bullet through his skull,” Gunner says darkly.
Buzz shakes his head, “Bill Anderson is going to stay as far away as possible from here. He wants to come out of this shit stinking of roses. That’s why we need to go along with Veronica’s plan unless we think she and Skye are in immediate danger.”
“We know Skye is, those fuckers plan to kill her!” I snap, exasperatedly.
“Don’t you think I fucking know that? We wait for a signal, that’s an order,” Angel snaps.
We all fall silent again, watching the house anxiously. And then an unmistakable sound rings out through the stillness.
A gunshot.
Instinct kicks in and I immediately grab my gun and race toward the exit of the building we’re in.
“Drifter, wait! We need a plan,” Buzz calls.
“There’s no time! You wanted a sign. Well, this is fucking it!” I shout back.
“Drifter’s right. We strike now. Drifter, Buzz, you go round the back, Gunner and I will take the front. I’ll signal for the others to follow as backup,” Angel says.
“Got it!” we all chorus.
Buzz and I split up, both heading in opposite directions taking a wide arc to avoid being seen from the front and running as fast as we can to the back of the house. As I near the house I can hear gunfire, the guys have clearly encountered the Demon Riders inside and it’s become a shootout.
I hear the sound of glass breaking and screams coming from inside.
Skye.
I run as fast as my legs can carry me, driven by pure adrenaline. As I approach the back of the house there’s one of Brute’s goons standing there, guarding the door. He spots me a second too late, lifting his gun to fire. But I’m faster. I fire off a couple of rounds and he goes down.
The man screams in pain. “Fuck! You fucking shot me!” he cries out clutching his side where I hit him.
“I’ll fucking kill you if you don’t shut up,” I growl, grabbing his gun and tossing it away.
The man continues to cry like a fucking baby, “Please. Please don’t. I was just doing as they told me to. Those bitches killed Brute, and they’ve locked themselves inside. I needed to flush them out.”
It’s then that I smell it. Gasoline and smoke. Fire.
The back door is boarded up, there’s no way to get in or out quickly. The window next to it is broken from where the man tossed a flaming Molotov cocktail through it. I peer inside to see the fire quickly spreading, the old wooden furnishing of the kitchen and living room acting as tinder, fueled by gasoline. The house, like the rest of the houses here, has a wooden frame so it won’t be long before it’s an inferno. In the corner, two figures are huddled together, surrounded by flames.
Skye and Veronica.
Those bastards. There’s no way out for either of them. They weren’t trying to flush them out, they were killing them. Someone’s poured fuel under the only other exit from the living room, the fire’s already licking at the doorway.
“Skye!” I call out desperately as I try to pull apart the wooden boards, nailing the door shut.
“Drifter?” I hear her shout, confused and hopeful, before descending into a coughing fit.
“I’m coming, just hold on!” I cry, my heart racing, and the usual sensation of panic spreading through my body.
The familiar feeling of a panic attack creeps its way into my mind every time I’m close to fire.
But I force myself to ignore it. I cannot, will not, let Skye die. Even if it means facing the thing I fear most.
“Give me your jacket,” I shout at the bleeding man on the floor. “Give it to me now or I will shoot you in the fucking head!” I shout when he doesn’t react fast enough.
This does the trick and he pulls it off, squealing like a stuck pig as he does so. I wrap it around my fist and knock out the rest of the glass in the window, pulling myself up and squeezing myself through the narrow space. The window is barred, and there’d be no way I could normally get through but, by the grace of god, one of the bars is missing, leaving a small gap. It’s a good thing that I’m the one who found them. My wiry frame just about fits, any of the other guys wouldn’t get through. I land on the floor with a thud, grateful that I’m wearing my leathers for once. At least they offer some protection from the flames.
As I stand, the sight of the fire freezes me to the spot as ice-cold fear floods my nervous system and I can swear I smell my own flesh melting and burning like it did that night so many years ago.
If there’s a hell, this would be mine.
“Drifter!” Skye’s voice calls out again, breaking through my fear and giving me the strength I need to move.
“I’m coming baby, I’m here, just hold on!” I cry out, bracing myself as I rush through a wall of flames to where she is, still safe in the one pocket of the room not yet on fire.
“Drifter, oh my god, I thought I was going to die and never see you again,” she cries as she sees me before she starts to cough again.
I glance at Veronica who, with her slight frame and years of heavy smoking, has already started slipping into unconsciousness before turning my attention back to Skye.
“Here cover yourself with this,” I say removing my jacket and throwing it over Skye so it covers her head and shoulders. “We’re going to make a run back through into the kitchen and I’m going to push you up through the window, got it?”
“What about Veronica?” she asks. My beautiful girl, even now in a life or death moment she’s thinking of others, someone who’s been nothing but horrible to her.
“Fuck Veronica,” I grunt.
“We can’t leave her, Drifter, she saved me.”
Reluctantly, I agree. “Okay, can you walk? I’ll carry her.”
“Yes, I can walk,” she agrees.
“Alright, stay low and follow close behind me,” I order, throwing Veronica’s limp body over my shoulder.
We head back through the flames, into the kitchen and I hear Buzz’s voice. “Drifter, I can’t fit through!”
“I’ve got them, just help them out!” I shout, my lungs on fire as racking coughs hit me.
“Veronica first,” Skye insists.
I want to argue but the flames are closing in and there isn’t time. “Buzz, Veronica’s unconscious, I’m gonna push her through, you gotta grab her.”
“Got it!” he shouts, and I easily lift her through the window. “I’ve got her!” he calls back seconds later.
“Now you,” I say to Skye. I can tell she’s weakening, and I help her through as quickly as I can.
“She’s safe. Come on!” Buzz calls.
I place my hand on the scalding hot metal bars to pull myself up. My scars tingle as I can feel the heat of the flames behind me. My eyes sting with smoke and I can feel the blackness seeping in. My mind starts to shut down as the flames win and I’m unable to move.
“Drifter!” they shout.
But I’m lost. Lost in the memory. Back in my bedroom, the flames licking at my skin.
Then a touch, as gentle as a feather, brings me back. Skye’s hand is on mine, and she looks at me, tears trailing down her soot-stained face, “Drifter, please. I need you.”
I nod and pull myself up and out of the window, landing with a thud on the dirt outside. Gasping for breath as Skye envelops me in an embrace.
Maybe we all have to go through hell to find heaven.