Chapter 17
TRACKER
Stepping into the shed, I walk to the side of the room and say nothing. The best way to unnerve assholes like Snake is to observe, and before you know it, they will start speaking, and I mean it will flow out of them.
“Ah, the great Tracker himself appears. Don’t want your minions to do your dirty work this time, hey, Pres?” Snake snidely says, but I ignore his comment.
Cap enters and takes a position next to me, saying nothing. He knows the routine, as does Snake, but when you’re on the wrong side of what’s happening, it is entirely different.
Yawning, which always makes any asshole in the chair nervous, I mean literally in the chair. Snake is chained to a chair which is bolted to the floor. The chair, by the way, is metal, so it’s not at all comfortable. You know we wouldn’t want our guests to feel too welcome now, would we?
Finger, Hot Rod, and Rides walk in and give me a nod as they take positions around the room.
It is becoming more intimidating by the minute.
I’m surprised he has been able to keep his silence so long, but it is coming.
I can see it in the beads of sweat forming on his forehead, at the way his hands are clenching and unclenching.
It must be uncomfortable being chained to the chair like that, and his wrists are already showing red marks from where they are cuffed.
“You know you’ll never get away from what is going to happen, right? Taking my clothes off, really?” Snake snarls.
Yeah, I knew he was going to talk. I flick my eyes to Hot Rod who is smirking and not trying to hide the fact. I roll my eyes at him, which has him chuckling in response.
Snake continues, “ZeBach knows the number of brothers, where they work, if they are fuckin’ someone.”
None of us responds, but we now know how deeply Snake has betrayed us all. He will be ended today for his sins. I see Cap is struggling not to kill the fucker, but he knows he has to wait until I’m ready for this asshole to breathe his last breath.
“You’ll find out too late.” Snake laughs, and it leaves a nasty feeling in my gut. There is no point, however, in trying to get an answer to what he’s said because it’s exactly what he wants.
The door opens, and Bowie pops his head into the room. “Pres, do you want me to, you know, get things rolling?”
“Why not, Bowie? Do your thing,” I reply with a deadpan face. Snake, however, jerks in his seat, knowing exactly what is going to happen. “Start with his legs,” I suggest.
“You got it, Pres.” Bowie takes out his knife and walks over to Snake, giving him a look that says this is going to hurt.
With his legs locked down to the floor there is nothing Snake can do but scream. He can’t move out of the way, and screaming obscenities at Bowie is like water running off a duck's back.
“This is why you have no clothes,” Bowie snarls before he makes a cut, then a long one from ankle to just under Snake's knee. Repeating the process until he has an oblong cut. What happens next is something we’ve all seen before.
Bowie places his knife under the top of the cut and peels the skin from Snake’s leg.
“Good job, Bowie,” Rides says and steps forward to admire the cut. “Can you teach me?”
Bowie looks at Rides, and seeing he means it and is eager to have a try, hands him the knife.
The next ninety minutes we spend watching Rides learn how to peel the skin from a living person.
The screams we ignore, and the cursing and comments from Snake are ignored, too.
Nothing is going to stop us from killing this bastard.
It is just a matter of how long it takes.
Hot Rod leans towards me and states clearly so all can hear, especially Snake. “Do you think we can finish this now, Pres? Because you know it is lunchtime and Bessy said she was going to make enchiladas for lunch.”
I speak for the first time since walking into the shed. “Is she now?” Hot Rod nods his head, and we both flick our eyes to Snake who is a wreck at this point. He has no skin on his arms, legs, or even his cheeks. Nodding to Bowie, “Okay, get it done, and let’s go eat.”
I had no sooner gotten the words out of my mouth when Cap put a bullet in Snake's forehead.
“For fuck's sake, Cap, I wanted to play with him a minute more,” Rides snaps, but we all ignore him as we are going for lunch.
Cap snarls, “I was sick of him, and you were playing with your prey. Move on, Rides.”
I shout over my shoulder, “Rides, Bowie, help the prospects get rid of the body.”
“Will do, Pres,” Bowie shouts in reply, and that, as the saying goes, is that!
CILLA
“Can you take that out to the dumpster, Cilla?” Bessy asks, and I give her a smile along with a nod. I pick up the trash she has bagged and head outside.
I don’t see anyone, but hear a scuffing noise. Turning to see who was there I am taken by surprise when something hits me on the back of my head. Everything goes black!
I don’t know how long I’m unconscious, but when I start to regain my senses, I realize I’m not where I should be. I can hear voices mumbling about getting paid because they grabbed the woman. The woman being me, I assume.
Keeping my eyes closed and feigning unconsciousness I reach out to Bono, using only my thoughts because I don’t want whoever this is to know that I’m awake and aware of what is going on around me.
“Bono! Are you there? Tank! Pyro! One of you, for goodness’ sake answer me!”
Pyro appears in my mental vision. *You are okay, Cilla. Bono is doing what he can to tell someone where you are*
“Where am I?”
*You are on the outskirts of town. In a derelict warehouse that these assholes are living in. Well, squatting. Anyway, I’ve been practicing my ability to be a poltergeist. You know, so I can light up their asses*
“You have not!”
*I have, and I’ve gotten good at it. I’m going to light up this building if necessary so you can get out and get gone*
Hearing voices coming closer, I keep my eyes closed.
“Is she going to wake up soon? You didn’t fuckin’ kill her, did you?”
“Of course not, idiot.”
“Is ZeBach coming for her soon?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Let’s just leave her here and come back later. I’m hungry.”
“Okay, she’s still out of it so we should have time to go get burgers or something.”
After the voices had stopped close to me, and presumably happy that I’m still out of it, they turned and walked away.
I crack my eyes open and notice immediately that they have left the door ajar.
I wonder if they are mentally impaired, because who the hell kidnaps someone then leaves them unattended?
*Fuckin’ idiots that’s who*
“Oh, hi, Tank. I didn’t know you were here,” I rub the back of my head and wince when I touch a lump.
*Can you move now, Cilla? You need to get the fuck out of here*
Getting to my feet, my head spins a little, but I pause just long enough for it to stop, then make my way to the door. “Is there anyone here standing guard, Tank?”
*No, there were two of them, and they both left. Pyro has gone to watch over them, and Bono is still watching ZeBach. So come on, Cilla, make a run for it*
FINGER
Meanwhile, at the clubhouse…
“Where is Cilla?” I ask as I walk from room to room.
Every brother I meet gives me the same answer. They don’t know and they haven’t seen her. When shouting is heard in the kitchen I head that way.
“Where is Cilla? She only went to put trash in the dumpster,” Bessy is asking someone.
Opening the kitchen door, I see Bessy standing with her hands on her hips, giving Trix a nasty look. “Yeah, I’d like to know where Cilla is too.”
“Cilla went to the dumpster, Finger. She was throwing in the trash and should have been back twenty minutes ago. But I saw the club women all giggling and looking out of the window where the dumpster is. They know something and are finding it amusing, whatever it was.” Bessy is ready to launch herself at Trix, and I step in front of her, bringing myself close to Trix.
“Get the others and get to Pres’ office,” but when she doesn’t respond quickly, I bellow, “NOW!”
Jerking, Trix turns and runs out of the kitchen. I turn to Bessy. “We’ll find her. But you hear anything you let me know.”
Bessy agrees with a nod, then turns to the smoking, foul-smelling pan on the stove. I can’t help but think that our supper is going to be lean tonight.
Stepping into Tracker's office, I step beside his desk and state quickly why we are here. “Pres, Cilla is missing. She went out back of the kitchen to throw trash into the dumpster. She’s not been seen since. But these four were standing at the window watching something going down and were laughing about it. Now, we need to know what they saw.”
Tracker slowly stands to his full height, which causes all four of the women to take a step back. “What did you see? And don’t fuck with me because we’ve already dealt with one asshole this morning, and I can and will make that five if necessary.”
Now, it sounds like a gaggle of geese when they all start speaking at once, and you cannot tell what any of them are saying. Before I can speak, Tracker bellows, “QUIET!”
You guessed it, they all shut their traps immediately. “Flick, tell us what you all saw,” Tracker states, giving her a look that tells her not to fuck with him.
“Cilla threw the trash in the dumpster, but before she could turn, someone came up behind her and hit her on the back of her head. She fell like a dead weight.”
“And you all thought that was funny?” I snarl, then look from one to another.
“No, it was not that which was funny. It was the ugly guy who picked her up. He tried to throw her over his shoulder, and he couldn’t do it.
Another guy came up and helped him, but you know, Cilla isn’t that big of a woman, so it means he was weak as shit,” Flick narrates, but you know what? I don’t find that funny either.
Tracker leans forward to say something, but before he can we both notice a small flame lighting in midair. I look at Tracker and he has a shit-eating grin on his face.
“Pyro!” we both say at the same time, and right before the flame lights up in front of each of the women. They all four scream and run out of the office, leaving Tracker and me laughing under our breaths. “How the fuck has Pyro managed to do that?” I ask.
Tracker snorts, “I don’t know but it’s fuckin’ cool.”
“I’ll tell the brothers to make their lives miserable for a few days. But we need to find Cilla.” Tracker nods in agreement, and we both head out of the office. That’s when we hear shouting.
“PRES! CILLA IS HERE.”
I push past Tracker and run out of the front door in time to see Cilla drop to her knees. I spring to her and pick her up, before turning and rushing back inside and right to Scalpel’s medical room.
“I’m okay, Mason,” Cilla says as she wraps her arms tightly around my neck. “I’m just tired and have a headache from the bump on my head.”
I lay her down on the bed in medical and kiss her forehead. “You scared the shit outta me, Cilla. What happened? Where have you been? And how are you back here?”
Tracker slams the door in everyone's faces, leaving Scalpel, himself and me alone with Cilla. Cilla quickly tells us what happened and how she escaped. She even told us Mrs. Worthington picked her up on Eastfield Road and dropped her here at the gate.
“Tank and Pyro helped you?” Tracker asks, and he then tells her about the flames in the office and the women running, which has the desired effect of making Cilla giggle.
“Pyro has been practicing his poltergeist energy, so you can expect him to pop up now and again. He’s a typical dead being, that doesn’t want to stay dead,” Cilla laughs, but you know I can imagine that being true.
“When I die, I want to be Pyro!” Tracker mumbles as he walks out of medical. Which has Cilla giggling lightly, Scalpel snorting, and me closing the door thinking the place always was a madhouse, but it’s even worse now.