Chapter Six
Walter had been disqualified from becoming the class valedictorian because he had been on probation.
The older brother of one of Walter’s friends was a member of the Lucifer’s Disciples outlaw motorcycle gang.
To impress him, Walter had been stealing cars that he brought to the chop shop where he was currently torturing Rob Guthrie.
When he was caught, he didn’t rat out the Disciples.
This had impressed them. Instead of going to college or enlisting in the army, Walter had been welcomed into the club.
Over the years, he had risen to a leadership position by using his brain to develop ways to make a lot of money and by using his penchant for violence to dissuade anyone who thought of challenging him.
Eventually, Zegda became second-in-command of the club.
The only person standing in the way of his quest to become the gang’s leader was Bull Vasquez, the club’s apex predator.
Then Bull disappeared. Walter opined that Vasquez had grown weary of the responsibilities of leadership and had retired to a tropical island, where he made love all day to beautiful women when he wasn’t lazing on the beach drinking pina coladas.
Some of the gang members thought that there might be a darker explanation for Bull’s vanishing act because Bull’s Harley and all his worldly possessions were still at his pad.
However, these individuals kept their thoughts to themselves for fear that they too might be shipped off to the same tropical paradise where Zegda believed Bull to be residing.
Walter slapped Rob Guthrie across his face, and the lids that covered Guthrie’s swollen eyes parted.
He was in the garage that the Disciples used as a chop shop.
Most of the garage was dark, and Rob could barely make out the cars that were lined up near the front.
He could see Walter and Dennis “Wolf” Larson, because the area at the back of the garage was illuminated, but he couldn’t see them too well because there was blood in his eyes.
“Hey, Rob, focus,” Zegda said. “You may be a witness to history being made.”
Rob tried to focus, but it was difficult, because he was strung up to the ceiling.
The chain that was wrapped around his wrists had pulled him up so high that his body weight had caused his shoulders to dislocate.
Rob barely felt that pain because he had been beaten senseless over the past hour, a fate Zegda felt Rob deserved for skimming profits from the drugs he was dealing for the club.
“Wolf, are you ready?” Zegda asked the massive, heavily bearded Disciple who stood next to him.
“I am,” Wolf replied.
Zegda showed Rob the object he held in his hand.
“This is a Rubik’s Cube, Rob. It has many colored squares. To win, you have to make each side the same color by rotating the sections of the cube. Do you follow me?”
Rob stared at Zegda. His eyes were glazed over, and drool covered his bloodstained split lips.
“Golly, Rob. You should show more interest, because your fate will be determined by how successful I am in breaking the world record for solving the cube, which now stands at three point one three seconds. I’ve been getting pretty close, and this will be your lucky day if I succeed.
I’ll be in such a good mood, I’ll let you go.
So, you should be rooting for me, amigo. ”
Zegda looked at Wolf, who was holding a stopwatch.
“Ready, set, go!” Wolf shouted.
Walter sprang into action, his fingers manipulating the cube at an amazing rate.
“Stop!” Zegda shouted as the colors on all of the sides aligned. He looked at Wolf expectantly.
Wolf shook his head. “Three point two zero, boss.”
“Motherfucker,” Zegda said. Then he looked at his prisoner. “Sorry, Rob. I really tried.”
Zegda handed the cube to Wolf, took out a pistol, and shot Rob between his bloodshot eyes.
“Take out the trash, Wolf, while I drown my sorrows in a glass of cold beer,” Zegda said, handing Wolf the gun so he could dispose of it with the body.