CHAPTER ELEVEN
I just had one of those mornings where I look at my kids and think, ‘Damn it, these are my monkeys and it is my circus.’
~Text from Kimbra to Ben~
Kimbra
These guys are idiots. First, the lug driving and the one sitting with me are just blindly following the asshole who apparently is in charge of their little gang.
I won’t call it a club because that would diminish all the actual clubs.
I know they started as one, but they have to be light years away from the club Ben used to be a part of.
First of all, they talk like I’m not listening and have overshared some things that could definitely get them locked up for a lot of years.
I think the lug sitting across from me has used his head to hit people one too many times and has lost too many brain cells.
I don’t think he has a clue about why the others call him Lennie.
I don’t think Of Mice and Men was a book he ever picked up.
He could probably do some damage to a person, but a war of words he wouldn’t win.
The one they call Boss or Pres or Taz is a fucking idiot of a different kind.
He expects blind obedience from his guys.
He’s so focused on getting this money that’s supposedly owed to him that he can’t seem to think of anything else.
It took him a long time, I’m guessing at least an hour or two, to bring up his other club guys who are hurt and need medical attention.
He thinks I’m a surgeon or something. “You better fix them up, or I’ll get you sold so fast and go after your fucking kids.
” I would’ve argued back with him about needing supplies and all, but I don’t think it would do a lick of good.
He’s the kind of guy who only hears what he wants to and tunes everything else out.
I’m thinking there are some mommy issues there.
The only one of the three that actually gives me the creeps is the one driving.
I think I heard his name was Brander. From their conversations over the drive, I’ve learned that he’s the one behind the…
package I got a while ago, as in he was the one who removed those body parts, froze them, and then delivered them.
He’s someone who definitely gives off Ed Gein vibes, and he might have enjoyed carving up what he did.
He’s the kind of guy I don’t want to be left alone with… ever.
Looking out the back window of the van, I can tell we’re going down 84, and from the last few signs I’ve seen, the next town is Watson.
We’re more than three hours from home. Creepy McCreeperson Brander must have a big lead foot.
This isn’t where Ben said his old club was.
He said that it was close to Walla Walla, and that’s not on this road.
Makes me wonder where they’re taking me.
I really hope Branson got a hold of Ben and got him and Bent and Bailey to the family. He’s so smart. I’m sure he did.
I’d really like to figure out a way to get out of this mess, but there’s no way I’m jumping out of a van going more than seventy-five miles an hour.
I’m just going to have to figure something out when we stop.
If Brander leaves to go do something, I think my chances are pretty fucking high I can get away.
He gives me the heebie-jeebies, and he makes one have to wonder if he’s got a mask made of human skin.
Or maybe he’s more like Dahmer or John Wayne Gacy and keeps his victims as souvenirs.
It was his smile when he talked about dismembering Erik’s ex-wife that gave me the chills.
I’m lost in my thoughts for a while and only jostled from them when the brakes screech and we slow down, exiting the interstate.
We drive for maybe ten minutes before we make another turn and drive on a gravel road.
We’re only on the gravel road a couple of minutes before Brander stops the van and parks it.
He and the asshole who’s name I don’t even know get out.
Lennie looks at me and speaks. “Time to get out. You need to help the brothers.” Shit, maybe it’s not that he's used his head too many times. I feel bad for a second, then I remember he’s helping kidnap me, and that feeling disappears quickly.
He opens the side door and hops out. Brander and Asshole are standing there.
“Let’s go. I need you to patch up Smitty and Knob.
I can’t lose more brothers since we lost String Bean and Spade because your man’s fucking club killed them.
I’ve got bandages and stuff, so you better get them fucking healthy, or my threat about your kids still stands.
” Brander grabs my arm and pulls me to what looks like an old barn, and past it, there’s an old barn house that has definitely seen better days.
We go past the barn and walk toward the house.
My mouth speaks before I think. “Does that place have water or electricity?” Asshole looks back at me.
“Yeah, it does, and we got some cots in there for the guys to lay on.” Color me surprised.
Brander yanks my arm to walk faster up the steps to the front door.
The place makes me glad I’m caught up on my tetanus shot.
The door opens, and as soon as I walk in, I can tell nothing is going to be sanitary.
There’s a level of dust so thick on everything I think I could actually cut it with a knife.
Brander points to the room to the left. “They’re in there.
” I walk into the room, and I swear I can smell gangrene.
I look over at Brander and the one I call Asshole.
“How long ago were they hurt? Did anyone clean the wounds? I can smell an infection from here.” Asshole points to the room.
“Just fucking get in there and save them.” Yeah, ’cause I’m a miracle worker with bandages and gauze.
“Bring me all the supplies you have so I know what I’m working with.
” Brander takes off to another room, hopefully getting me some actual medical supplies, but I don’t hold my breath for them.
I do hold my breath, going into the room to not smell that putrid scent.
I have a feeling one of these men is knocking on death’s doorstep.
I stop at the first man I come to, and he looks up at me. “You a doc?” I nod. “Yep, I am. You wanna show me your wounds? Were you shot or stabbed or what?” He lifts his shirt and shows me. “I was stabbed, and the fucker got some good punches in.”
I ask him a few more questions to assess his injuries. Without being able to use any tools but my eyes and hands, I figure he must not have had anything important nicked. I’m guessing he’s probably got a couple of cracked ribs.
Brander brings in a box of supplies. I’m surprised to find gloves, antiseptic, some gauze, and bandages.
I get to work fixing up who turns out to be Smitty.
He’s quiet and only makes a couple of hissing sounds when I clean his wound.
He should be fine if he keeps it clean. The ribs will just take time because, without even asking, I know that suggesting he see a doctor in an actual hospital will fall on deaf ears.
I fixed him up first because I’m pretty damn sure the other guy is beyond my help if that smell is any indication.
I stand up and move the chair I was sitting in over to the other guy, Knob, I think they called him.
He’s unconscious and has a sheen of sweat on his face.
I feel his forehead, and he’s burning up.
Since he’s not able to tell me, I ask the room, “Was he stabbed, shot or what? He can’t tell me right now, and anything you can tell me might just save his life because I can tell you right now he’s really close to being too far gone.
” Asshole looks at me from the doorway. “You better fucking hope he makes it.” He then tells me that Knob was shot twice, once in the shoulder and once on his opposite side.
I get to work, having Asshole cut his shirt off.
I can immediately see that, surprisingly, the wound on his side was pretty much a flesh wound, but his shoulder wound is oozing with infection.
I wouldn’t be surprised if the bullet is still inside of him.
It’s been a long time since I spent time in the emergency room, but I do what I can to clean his shoulder.
I get his side wound cleaned up quickly.
“He’s got a bad infection and needs antibiotics.
I cleaned up the wound, but his fever and infection can only be cleared up with some seriously strong antibiotics, which I don’t have here.
” Asshole slams his fist against the doorway.
“He can’t go to the fucking hospital. He’s got warrants out.
I’ll see what Brander and Lennie can come up with.
You stay here and don’t even think about going anywhere.
” He walks out of the room, and a couple minutes later, I hear the front door slam and lock from the outside. Well, shit.
I look around, and Smitty is asleep on his cot, and Knob hasn’t moved a muscle since I got here.
He may have locked the front door, but that doesn’t mean that there’s no other way to get out of this place.
I stand up and quietly walk out of the room.
I go past the front door and find what must be a dining room and kitchen, all covered with the same layer of dust, which tells me they definitely don’t live here.
I walk back toward the front door and find the stairs that lead upstairs and a door on the other side of the stairs.
I go to the door and open it. It’s a set of stairs that must lead to the basement.
“Kimbra, you know damn well you yell at every woman in a horror movie about not going down to the basement.”