Chapter 3 Whiz
WHIZ
“You miss one detail, and Anarchy turns into chaos real fuckin’ fast.”
I don’t look away from the run board at the sound of Undertaker’s taunting words.
I’ve practically been glued to this spot as I’ve prepped for the Family Fun Run.
The run board, as my brothers have dubbed it, isn’t a board at all, but one entire wall in the room where church is held.
Laminated maps cover the wall from one end to the other, multi-colored lines of string marking every leg of the journey from Washington to Anarchy, California.
“I don’t miss details,” I snap, the memory of our last run surfacing. I hadn’t missed anything then, but we still ended up surrounded by trouble.
Undertaker stops next to me, hands raised in a placating gesture. “Never said you do,” he replies. “But I haven’t seen you this obsessed over run prep in a while. You’ve been staring at that board like it’ll change if you look away.”
“I’m staring at it like it’s my job,” I say. “Oh, wait… it is my fucking job.”
Weeks. That’s how long the Fun Run has occupied my every waking moment.
Weeks of late nights, phone calls, rerouting for construction, checking rival movement, planning vehicle rotations, hotel blocks, fuel stops, contingencies for breakdowns, accidents, and weather.
Every single detail, every potential scenario, every goddamn second is accounted for.
Just because it’s called a Fun Run doesn’t mean I’m careless in the organization.
It means I’m prepared.
Undertaker studies the board, his eyes tracing my work.
“You extended our time in Oregon on the return trip instead of on our way south,” he finally says.
“Yeah. After the vote passed to spend less time in Anarchy, I talked with Big Daddy,” I reply, referring to the president of the mother chapter.
“We’ll be arriving at the rally a little earlier to help get things set up, but another chapter is going to help with the clean-up, so he was cool with us leaving early. ”
He nods once. “Makes sense.”
I gather up the binder that contains all the information that’s on the wall and snap one last pic with my cell before leading Undertaker out of the room.
The clubhouse buzzes around us. Engines rev outside, brothers shout greetings as they enter and exit the building, and the sound system blares rock music.
There’s an electric charge in the air that’s impossible to ignore, especially with the destination of our annual trip this year.
But that’s the thing… Anarchy isn’t just a destination. It’s KOAMC’s history and power. It’s the one place in all the world where the Kings of Anarchy brothers and family move as one, exist as a single unit rather than numerous chapters.
“Whiz!”
I glance toward the door as Zombie storms in, his cut already on even though we won’t roll out for at least another ten minutes. He scans the room until his eyes land on me.
“Tell me again you didn’t put my old lady and kid in some bullshit position,” he barks.
Undertaker snorts. “Good morning to you, too, VP.”
Zombie ignores him.
“Lucy and Sari are in the lead cage,” I answer calmly. “Same as we discussed two weeks ago, last week, and yesterday. Copper’s meticulously gone over every vehicle to ensure there are no issues, and Junior’s driving the first leg.”
Zombie narrows his eyes. “And driver rotation?”
“Every stop,” I remind him. “No one will get fatigued, and no one will improvise.”
“Good,” he mutters. “And no bike.”
“You make it sound like I’ve argued that point,” Lucy says, her voice clear over the noise as she steps into the room with Sari strapped into a carrier against her chest, the black Kings of Anarchy blanket Mellie had made for her draped over the baby.
Two months ago, a baby in the clubhouse was an oddity, but now, it’s as normal as the club whores who strut through the space on a daily basis.
“I haven’t,” Lucy continues. “I’ve been more than agreeable.”
I meet her eyes. “No bike.”
She nods. “Good.”
Zombie darts his gaze between me, Undertaker, and his wife. “See? This is why you’re the road captain. I trust you more than any of these other assholes.”
Undertaker smirks. “That’s a pretty low bar for trust.”
I open my mouth to argue, but Lucy turns to me with a serious expression, forcing me to remain silent.
“If anything changes, you tell me, not him,” Lucy tells me, pointing at Zombie.
Zombie scowls. “The fuck—”
“She’s right,” Lyric says evenly as he joins our small group. “You’re emotional, and Whiz is operational. And decisions can’t be made based on emotion on a run.”
I try to stifle a smile, but it’s impossible. “I’ll keep you in the loop,” I promise Lucy before leveling my VP with a stare. “And you. Every leg.”
Lucy breathes a sigh of relief and finally relaxes. “Then we’re good.”
She turns to go back outside, and Zombie is right behind her with a hand on her lower back as if he can physically shield his little family from the world.
Undertaker watches them go. “One kid,” he mutters. “He’s only got one kid, and his whole orbit has shifted. I’d hate to see him with two or three.”
“Me, too,” I say, pulling up the checklist I have on my cell.
He shakes his head. “You’re treating this run like it matters more than usual.”
“It does,” I reply without thinking.
“Because it’s to Anarchy?”
“Exactly,” I say simply without looking up from my phone. “It’s been a few years since all of us attended the rally. And this is the first time a baby has been a consideration in my planning. There’s no room for mistakes because this year, any mistake would be catastrophic.”
Lyric claps me on the back. “You don’t make mistakes, brother, so stop worrying so much.
This run is about family and fun.” A bright laugh breaks through our conversation as Mellie steps up next to him.
Pres curls his arm around her shoulders before continuing.
“So, can we get this show on the road, or are you going to keep pretending you’re not excited? ”
“He’s not pretending. He’s fucking obsessing.”
Before I can get a word out, one of the SUV’s engines turns over outside. A Harley fires up seconds later, and the rumble is louder, more aggressive.
Time’s up.
I grab the bag I set by the door an hour ago and review the plan in my head one last time. Nothing has changed, and nothing was missed.
Outside, the sun is rising, and its light glints off dozens of bikes lined in formation. The SUVs idle behind them, with the one Lucy and Sari are in exactly where it belongs.
I hand off the binder to Junior, as it will remain with the lead cage, and then I stride toward my bike. I swing my leg over the seat and settle in, the familiarity grounding me.
Lyric raises his hand, and engines roar in response.
We roll out as one, leaving our clubhouse in the dust as we head for Anarchy, California.
As soon as we hit the highway, I twist the throttle and finally let the excitement flow through me.
The annual Family Fun Run has officially begun.