Chapter 35 #3
I end the call before he can reply. Next, I summon up another number and am soon speaking to my woman. She takes a little persuading, as I don’t dare tell her the truth, not over the phone. She agrees to plead a family emergency and to leave work as soon as she can.
My last call is to Heathen, instructing him to bring Trip and Trixie to the clubhouse. I impress upon him the urgency and threaten his patch.
Then I return to the barn to see what’s gone on in my absence.
Uh uh. Doc seems to be down a hand, and I’ve missed all the excitement.
He’s screaming. “Put a tourniquet on, or I’ll bleed out.”
“No worries, Doc, I’ve got something to sort that.” Freak moves out of his sight and returns with a blow torch. “I might not have the medical qualifications you have, but I believe cauterisation would work just as well.”
The sounds out of Doc’s mouth start to crescendo, and reach their peak when Freak applies the flame not only to his stump, but halfway up his arm, leaving serious burns.
“Whoops.” Freak looks totally unapologetic. “My bad, Doc. I haven’t got a good aim. You reckon you might have something in your medical bag to steady my hand?”
I don’t think he’s even aware of the question, as Doc’s eyes roll up in his head, and he looks like he’s going to pass out. But Tempest has got a cure for that, and picks up the hose, turns a tap, and blasts cold water straight into his face.
He comes to fast, blubbering like a baby, snot running down his face.
The water comes from a bowser that the prospects transport up the hill just for this purpose, and for clean up, of course.
As it’s been sitting there for weeks since it was last used to wash away the blood after Griz’s demise, I hate to think of what that stagnant water, which has just gone straight into his mouth, might hold.
Put it this way, I wouldn’t drink it if you paid me.
“One thing I want to know.” Prez ignores Doc’s plight and continues the interrogation.
“Where, apart from the MDMC, did you find an outlet for your deviances when you stopped raping Bronwyn?” Without waiting for an answer, he takes the paperwork Saint’s been holding onto since his old lady gave it to him.
“Would you happen to know about the young girls who went missing around town, and from Nogales and Tombstone?” He consults the pages in his hand.
“Alison Faulks, well, she was found raped and strangled a few years back. And then there’s Carol.
That name mean anything to you? And Jane, well, she almost got away, blood found a hundred yards from her body.
Did you watch her crawl as fast as she could to escape you?
Did you chase her? Doesn’t matter really, but you caught her anyway, and choked her to death.
” He shakes his head. “No DNA found at any of the scenes, but then, being a medical man, you’d know how to use a condom and to clean up after yourself.
One thing the cops do know is that one man committed all these murders, and probably more. ”
Doc’s gone completely white, whether from blood loss or shock, I couldn’t say. Then he looks at Bullseye cunningly. “You can’t prove anything. Even if I did do those girls, I bet you’re responsible for more dead bodies than me.”
Having got his confession, which, to be honest, will never reach the ears of those in authority, or give comfort to the relatives of the dead girls, Prez proceeds to deliver our own form of justice for them, and for everyone else Doc’s ever hurt.
He issues just one more instruction, the final one we’ve all been waiting for. “Make him hurt, Freak.”
I’m torn. I want to get to the clubhouse to make sure my family has arrived safely and start preparing for the war we now know is coming.
On the other hand, I want to stay and see Doc take his final breath, just to satisfy myself that he’s paid for what he’s done to Bronwyn, Trip, and any other kids who were unfortunate enough to cross his path.
The world thinks little of bikers, but this one man? Despite his fancy education, he’s done far worse and has escaped under the radar just because he wears a suit rather than a cut.
Freak’s an expert in his field. Doc loses his other hand, and then his feet, all stumps cauterised to keep him alive. It’s something Doc doesn’t seem to appreciate as Tempest wakes him up time and time again, ensuring he’s enjoying every moment leading to his demise.
I shift on my feet with impatience, and Bullseye catches my movement. He takes pity on me. “Just finish him, Freak.”
Doc’s conscious enough that he looks around wildly, but Freak’s moved behind him and put a wire garrotte around his neck. “Seems fitting,” he states as he starts to tighten the wire. “You seem to enjoy strangulation.”
It’s almost comical to see how his stumps flail, but he’s no match for Freak. I keep my eyes straight ahead, watching, barely blinking, until I see Doc take his final breath.
It’s almost anti-climactic. He hasn’t suffered enough, in my opinion.
But now it’s time to focus on cleaning up the mess he’s left and to find out from my brothers what I missed while I was out making phone calls.
Did he disclose any further details about what he and the Mojave Devils had planned for Trip?