Redwood Nine Ch. 10

Reputations had been made regarding bikers, the constant news reports of violence and turf wars over drugs, had made it to every ear and they had formed a collective opinion, that bikers were undesirables. Nothing but miscreants and malcontents, bent on destroying what they felt their great nation was about and stood for.

They sat at two tables and waited for service, looking over the menus. Chico looked around for his favourite waitress and saw she was being talked to by the cook. What he could make out, was that the cook didn't want her coming over to serve them. Chico saw her head lower and nod, then she began coming over.

"Hey Novio, what's up? I saw Joe talking to you and he don't look too happy, neither do you."

Marietta looked saddened greatly, having to tell Chico what she was told to do.

"He told me to say he wasn't serving you and said you have to leave."

"Joe said that? What the fuck, Baby? I've been coming here for years to this place. I'm going to talk to him and find out what his problem is, man. This is bullshit."

"Oh Chico, don't start anything with him, I really need this job. I have nothing, if I lose this."

"You'll always have something, Marietta. Me."

Chico got up and went over to Joe and called him from the kitchen. Joe's head stuck out the serving window and it didn't take much imagination from the hand signals given, that he wasn't even entertaining the idea of discussing it with Chico. Chico motioned he would come over the counter, if any more of the same attitude came from him.

The guys got up quickly and came over to him, causing other diners who sided with Joe, to rise in his defence. It quickly became a standoff, both sides able to cause some serious hurt to the other. JT got his club moving towards the door, eyes always on guard for sudden moves. The door swung closed and it's closure was an end to hostilities. They got on their bikes and started them, then Marietta came out to Chico and threw her arms around his neck, obviously telling him in Spanish, how sorry she was and letting him know she didn't feel that way towards him, or his club. Chico pulled her to him and kissed her passionately, expressing his feelings through his lips and hands. Marietta stood after the kiss and looked at him, the uncertainty in her eyes, that she was looking at him for the last time.

"I'll see you on my way back, Marietta, tú eres mi corazón."

Chico took her hand and kissed it, looking deeply into her dark eyes, then let it go, still fixed with them, as he snapped the throttle a couple of times and joined the others waiting for him. JT started off, but Chico looked back one last time at Marietta, standing in the parking lot by herself, her eyes telling him her heart was going with him. Chico snapped his head back smartly to her and followed the flow of the club, as they pulled out and headed on to the border.

Empty stomachs made for an uncomfortable ride and the attitudes given to them, made for an uncomfortable welcome to the road. They headed south through the farmlands and came to the junction of 99 and I-5, where the mountains lay in front of them and the highway began cutting through them. Chico rode beside JT with a firmness to his face, that meant only one thing, he was still reeling from the disrespect he received from Joe. The only thing that made him different than before, was the patch on his back and the brothers that rode with him. JT looked back at the black strip of asphalt ahead of him and began considering the ramifications of choosing this lifestyle. Was society going to rebel back against him, as much as he was rebelling against it?

The passage cut for the highway afforded little in the way of scenery, just a continuous point on the horizon to focus on. Chico seemed to be getting himself back under control and letting go of what happened earlier. JT saw the ease in his face and the casual riding style he got into and hoped the worst of it was over for him. It was becoming clear to everyone, he imagined, that what was their life before, wouldn't be the same anymore.

The break from mountains wasn't as welcomed as they hoped, as Los Angeles loomed before them, the thick layer of smog hovering over the city. The flow of traffic seemed to keep growing exponentially, the closer they came to it. The road suddenly became a very crowded place, that changed the dynamics of how they rode. Drivers showed their distaste for them and cut them off, giving them the finger and generally giving them dirty looks.

JT couldn't understand why the level of animosity against them was so high. He couldn't comprehend why people would have such a great dislike for them, yet not know them in the least. The line of headlights coming up towards them, let them know a club was riding their way. As they approached, JT raised his left hand to them and waved and received nothing but stern faces looking back at him. The brotherhood that had existed between all riders, seemed to have been diminished, to only those of the club they rode in. More and more, he wished he had Jake's counsel on everything. His words of leading them down the road to trouble and danger, weighed heavy on his shoulders, as the responsibility to their safety grew with each passing occurrence that happened to them.

Finally getting past the city core, one thing they noticed was the change in the air. The cooler mountain air was warmed, now becoming more appealing to feel on their skin, as the mountain range to their right began fading away in height. I-5 swung in a large sweeping right curve, leading to the coast, then a sweeping left, bringing them along it. The first sign that everyone saw, that made them know they were close, were the start of palm trees growing alongside the highway. The feel of the sea air hit them, the salty smell and cooler offshore breezes mixed in pockets that they rode through, eventually evening out to one temperature again.

The ride was still exciting, as new places were visited and the differences in the people became evident, the closer to the border they came. Traditional Mexican culture was everywhere, as they rode in through San Diego. The bright colours were displayed flagrantly everywhere and on everything, making it all look festive. Hawkers were selling anything and everything Mexican to make a buck from the tourists, as canned music blared from loud speakers. Chico waved to a few of them and before they came anywhere near the border, he had JT turn off and follow him down a side road, heading back east towards the hills.

On and on, the road wound through the rising foothills, the road getting worse in its state of repair, the further they rode. Chico turned right down a dirt road, the afternoon sun on their backs, casting long shadows of elongated shapes of them, over the craggy hillside. Slowly and carefully, each rider maintained his balance, as they avoided potholes and loose gravel patches. Just when things looked like the road was no longer able to be traversed, Chico slowed right down and rode in first gear, heading on to a trail only able to handle a two wheeled vehicle. The guys became nervous, any mistake and their bikes would face damages that could stop them dead. Jagged rocks along the sides came perilously close to ripping into the casings, or puncture the tanks and tires. Chico rode it like it was a wide open street, knowing it so well.

When it looked like they would be riding on virgin ground, Chico pulled to a stop in a small clearing and cut his engine. The sliver of orange streaked over the horizon, a bright spot of red in the middle, sinking down past the mountain tops, as they all shut the engines off and stood in the bleak wilderness. Bodies were stretched and relieved of the aches, after riding for so long. Chico gave a shrill whistle, sounding much like a bird, then a minute or so later, a similar whistle was returned. Chico smiled and led the guys down the hill a hundred feet, to another small clearing amongst the brush.

He pointed across the border, to an area similar to what they were in. The guys strained to see in the slanting light and saw a pick up truck, painted almost the same colour as the desert floor, blending in to look invisible. Two men stood in the bed and waved to Chico. They shouted in Spanish and then the two men began raising something on the back of the pick up.

"Okay guys. Get ready to catch some dope."

They had no idea what Chico was talking about, then he had them look at the pair on the truck again. They had raised something that looked like a large letter Y. One of them slipped a band across both sides and Chico readied himself. One of the men pulled back hard and aimed, then released the package. The projectile soared up on a sweeping arc, travelling over two hundred feet, before Chico caught it like a football and put it on the ground. The guys immediately understood what was happening and it instantly became a game of catch, all of them readied for the next package coming over. They carried their catch to the bikes and filled their bags, each one holding more than enough pot to put them away in jail, for a very long time.

One by one, the kilo packages came sailing over to them, until there were no more. When all of them were over, the two men dismantled the makeshift slingshot and laid it in the truck bed again, covering it with a tarp. They just started shouting something over to them, when one held the other's arm and they both stopped and listened. In a second, three shrill whistles were given and they jumped out and began cutting branches off the brush around the truck and laid it over it. Chico knew what the signal was for and he too sprung into action. His knife was out and he was slashing off small branches as fast as he could.

"Plane. Cover your bikes. Border patrol spots us, we're fucked, man."

The guys needed nothing more to get them moving. Before the single engine plane was almost in sight, the truck and the bikes were covered with brush and the guys were taking cover under the trees, the others lying under their truck. The sound became louder and louder and they knew the plane was close, almost overhead. It was moving as slow as it could to stay aloft, but the passenger was constantly scanning the border area with binoculars, looking for any signs of infiltration.

When the plane passed over head and began moving away, Chico cautioned them to stay put, until it was out of sight. As the sound faded, Chico and his cousin knew enough to get out of the area as fast as they could, the return flight coming in half an hour after re-fuelling. The bikes were cleared off and the bags stuffed with the last few kilos of marijuana. Once the last one was stashed and the bag shut, the bikes were started and Chico waved to his cousin and friend across the border and they waved back, as they drove away, back to the homestead and the plantation of sweet, green cash, growing in the fields. Chico switched his headlight on, the others following suit, as they paced their way slowly along the treacherous path way.

Keith was threading his way behind Lenny, when he wobbled slightly on a rock, throwing his balance off. His bike only veered to the right slightly, but it was enough to catch his shin between the engine block and the rock jutting out. Keith felt the pain hit and jammed on his brakes, doing his best to lean it towards his good leg. The guys stopped to see what happened and got off their bikes, seeing Keith having a hard time holding up his bike and dealing with the pain of what happened.

With no other choice, Keith had them put his bike on the stand and they helped him walk the rest of the way down the trail, to the dirt road. JT was understanding how difficult it was for someone to get to where they were and the reason they went there, but he couldn't risk having his guys getting hurt on every run like this. JT went back and rode Keith's bike off the trail and parked it beside his, the others following behind him. Keith pulled up his pant leg slowly, exposing the site of his injury. Blood was soaking his pants, but it was unknown how bad the cut was. When it was bared, the guys used headlights to provide enough light to adequately assess the damage to him. Luckily, it wasn't broken, but the contusion was already swelling and beginning to take on a nasty look to it. Chico took off his bandana and wrapped it around the gash on Keith's leg, making him wince and utter oaths to God and Jesus, but it stemmed the flow of blood.

Once they had Keith attended to, JT discussed the issue with Chico and said they would have to remove some of the rocks, so this didn't happen again. Chico was about to defend himself and blame it on Keith's inability to ride as well as him, but caught himself, as he looked at his brothers, wearing the same cut as him and realized he had a responsibility to them.

"Sorry, JT. Next time we come down, we'll make it easier to get there. It's just, I know it like the back of my hand, you know? We picked it because it was going to take a good rider to get back there. I made the trail, amigo. I started that over a year ago, riding over shit, until I had a path to that spot. Not a bad idea, eh, muchacho?"

JT could see Chico was proud of what they had developed as an effective method of getting the marijuana across the border. It was secretive and quiet, except for the rumble of their bikes, that he imagined carried far off and might give them away. One bike was one thing, but six, or more, was going to create a problem and JT knew it.

"It's great, Chico. It's a good idea. I have some ideas I need to talk to you about though, when we get back. Speaking of which, it's getting dark now and Keith needs some better care for his leg. Maybe we should hang out down here and start back in the morning."

"Yeah, maybe we should, JT. I know a place to go that's close, been there a couple times myself to get patched up. I have to see Marietta as well and see how she is. Fucking Joe, that cocksucker, if he fires her for this, I'll kick his ass, man. He treats her like shit."

JT could see the emotion in Chico's eyes, when he spoke of Marietta and knew he cared for her greatly. He calmed down and looked at everyone, looking back at him with a sense of dis-ease on their faces and changed back to a smile. Hot-blooded Latin, or not. Chico had a side to him that went beyond traditional stereotyping.

"Okay, I know a good place to go for the night. Clean beds and a shower. We need to bring the shit inside with us, too. Can't be leaving that out for the fuckers to steal."

"True, Chico. Okay, you lead the way back and take us to the clinic, so we can get Keith patched up, then we'll head to the place you know about and sleep it off."

"Okay, let's get going, you know, that plane is coming back soon and we have to be out of here."

JT got everyone ready to ride and checked on Keith, still nursing his leg to stand on it, but he got on his bike, after Lenny started it for him. JT got on his bike and everyone started them up, then Chico led them out and back along the same derelict road they came in on. Finally, making it on to a better paved road, the guys started relaxing again, able to ride without worry of damage or injury. Throttles were twisted around, bringing the speed up and the formation began.

Chico rode beside JT, helping lead the way to the clinic, that was on the outskirts of San Ysidro. The desolate darkness of the back roads, left them in the isolation of their own headlights, as they wound through curving bends, making their way back down the hills to flat land. The appearance of a street light brought civilization to them and faint smiles were worn, knowing the hardest part of it was over now.

San Ysidro was rolling up the carpets and shutting off its lights, by the time the guys rode into town. Chico kept following the same road, as it changed from one name to the next, then finally turned down a side street and pulled into the parking lot, that had a small red cross, flickering on and off, only half the sign that denoted the place, San Ysidro Free Clinic, was lighting up. The guys parked their bikes and helped Keith with his, then helped him off of it. JT slung Keith's arm over his shoulders and bore his weight, as they helped Keith hobble inside.

The nurse behind the counter took a look at them and tried to veil her thoughts of them. They got Keith to the counter and told her what was wrong with him, so she went and got a wheel chair for him to sit in, then began asking all the necessary questions, to fill out the forms. The guys were more concerned with getting Keith attended to, than going through the bureaucratic system the clinic used. The nurse gave them a look that quelled anymore backtalk and they left her to her work.

"JT, go get the guys set up with rooms and make sure you get one for me, will ya. I'll be here for a while with this lovely lady, so I will. Won't I, love?"

The nurse clearly enjoyed Keith's accent and his flirtatious manner towards her.

"Yes he will. He needs X-rays and the doctor is busy tonight, so it will be a while, before he can see him. There's at least five or six patients ahead of him and if someone comes in that is need of more serious care, he'll get bumped behind that one."

The guys almost started protesting, but two things stopped them from going any further. The first was the stern look on the nurse's face, that said if they argued about it, they were going somewhere else for treatment. The second was Keith's face, clearly expressing his desire that they leave, so he and Nurse Crenshaw, could be better acquainted. JT herded the guys out of the waiting area and back to the bikes, as Keith smiled past the pain at the mid-thirties brunette, as she moved a bit closer and crossed her legs, continuing to write down his information.

By the time he was being put onto a gurney, nurse Nancy Crenshaw was enamoured with the Celtic charmer and pulled the curtain right around them. As she assisted him in undressing and getting a gown for him, maybe it was a mistake and maybe it wasn't, but he knew the size of the gown she gave him, was far too short on him, barely making it down to his thighs, or closing in the back and covering his bare arse. She helped him onto the bed and left him no choice, but to 'innocently' expose himself to her, as he lay down. He could have sworn he heard her purr, before she covered him with a sheet, keeping his injured leg exposed to the waist. He tried to see where her eyes were looking at and his crotch seemed to be the general direction they were always focused on.

As a tease, he squeezed his ass cheeks and raised his hips up slightly, causing the sheet to outline his package better. Keith definitely heard her breathe in deeply and almost sigh, as she breathed out. When the doctor arrived, all flirtation was off and the nurse stood to the side, as the elderly man began looking at his chart and then at his leg. Amorous thoughts were obliterated, as the doctor began moving his leg around and probing the injured area.

Chico pulled into the parking lot of the El Rancho Vega motel, riding up to the main office. The bright neon colours spelled out the name and also lit up one word they hoped to see, vacancy. He told JT to wait and then took off his cut this time, his face showing the regret of doing it, but they knew it was more important to get rooms, than fight against bias and discrimination. He went in and began with his smile and a warm Latin welcome to the man behind the desk. The guys sat waiting, wondering if the man would come out and tell them to get lost, then Chico came back out to them. He said they should hide the cuts for now, as Jose inside, was already against bikers, but Chico's long standing of using his rooms, got them a pass. Chico sat with the cuts and waited, until they started coming back out. Chico went in and paid for all the rooms and thanked his friend graciously, maintaining his good standing.