Nomad Ch. 05

This story is mine. All rights to this story belong to me, and nobody has the right to copy or reprint any of it without my express written permission. The characters and events are created by me, but some real events are depicted as historically accurate as I can make them.

August 1972

Jeff was laughing his ass off as Case limped around the yellow demon. His ankle was throbbing and his left leg ached as its normal dull pain morphed into spasms, as if to remind him it was there.

"I told ya, dipshit. You gotta pop the release as you start the third kick, not before!"

Casey lifted his glare long enough to shoot the bird at Ron, then continued to walk it off.

Mounting the bike, again, he held the compression release down as he stroked the kick pedal three times, popping his finger off on the third stroke. The lone cylinder roared to life as the machine rumbled with a steady thrum of pent-up energy.

As he throttled up and released the clutch, it almost threw him as the front wheel left the ground and he rode the wheelie about 15 feet before the wheel touched down. The wind raced by as both man and machine roared down the dirt road in front of Jeff's house and then turned onto the paved Farm to Market road at the end of the lane.

He was soon out of sight but the roar could be heard fading into the distance. He was gone almost 2 hours tooling up and down roads, streets, trails and hills as he became more and more comfortable with it. By the time he turned for home, a flashing red light atop a car behind him forced him to pull over. He began taking stock of where he was and what he was doing as the dusty Plymouth Fury emblazoned with the Sheriff's Dept. logo pulled off the road behind him.

"FUCK ME," thought Casey, realizing he had no motorcycle permit, not did he have a title to prove ownership. In fact, his drivers license was probably expired. "This might get a mite ugly," he thought.

The Stetson on the head of the large, portly Sheriff of Bowie County, Texas was perfectly balanced atop a mane of silver hair. Dan Watson had been sheriff for over 20 years, and he examined the dusty biker in front of him from behind mirrored Ray-Ban sunglasses.

Hitching his gun belt and spitting a pinch of tobacco onto the hot asphalt, he was the epitome of every Southern Sheriff stereotype as he strutted toward Case, his face firmly set.

"Damnation boy, I thought your ass was gone for good!"

"I'm fine. Thanks for asking, Big Dan. How's Ynez and the kids?"

The big sheriff broke into a huge grin. "We're all doin' fine, son. She'll be glad to hear you're alive. Of course, there's some will be a mite disappointed."

Casey laughed at that. "Tell them that if it's any consolation, it was a close thing a few times. How's the Judge?"

The big man frowned. "Judge Spicer passed last year. We got some Damn Yankee from Austin on the bench now. Luckily, he's an idiot, too, so it's not a big deal. I figure he won't get past this year's primary."

"Judge Spicer died? Hell I thought that old dinosaur died 20 years ago and didn't tell anyone. I figured it would take nukes to get him off the bench."

"Where you stayin'...Jeff Gaylord's place?"

"Ya. Him and Karin are letting me bunk on their couch until I get squared away."

"Good. You lookin' for a job? I know a few folks might have something."

"Nah. A friend in Dallas gave me a heads up on a job in Texarkana. Was plannin' to head over there Monday. He seemed to think it was a sure thing."

"Doing what?"

"Turning a wrench at a bike shop. Dave's Choppers."

The Sheriff laughed. "Same old Crazy Casey. Am I gonna be havin' any trouble from you?"

"Not from me, Big Dan. That guy died in Nam. I'm just plain Case now."

The big lawman removed his shades and squinted at him with a grin. "Don't bullshit a bullshitter, son." He put the sunglasses back on, straightened his Stetson, adjusted his belt and turned to stride back to his car. Stopping at the door, he looked back and said, "County Commissioner's Labor Day picnic is Monday, the 4^th.. Tell Jeff and Karin to bring them rugrats out, ya hear?"

Casey nodded and waved before cranking the bike and roaring off.

~~&~~

September 30, 1980 (Houston, Texas)

Torque was beginning to get more than a little pissed off as he ruminated over a cold beer in the Perros Locos clubhouse. He silently ticked off what he knew and didn't know about the events leading up to his pending meeting with Mark "Snowman" Snowden. Unfortunately, what he didn't know far outweighed what he did.

He had gotten the word out about Early Bird. Every member of Perros Locos MC, as well as their affiliates were scouring every known locale where the missing prospect might have gone to ground. So far nothing had been discovered. It was like he had fallen right off the map. The prospect had been sent to the Turner Falls rendezvous along with Wrench, Taco and South Bend. If there had been any deviation from that plan, Wrench would've contacted him. Since all three patch-holders had died at the scene, he had to assume that Early Bird was there.

Everyone else that was supposed to be there had been found dead at the scene, so how the fuck had Early Bird just dropped off the face of the earth like a fart in the wind? He was living with another couple of brothers, and didn't have an ol' lady to question. He had hooked up with a few chicks during his time as a prospect, but none had been close and all had been questioned. As the club and its sources dug deeper, they found very little background data on the guy. No family history, school or military records. The DMV showed that his license was issued when he moved to Texas 2 ½ years ago, but there was no driving record covering his previous existence.

He doubted that Snowman and his crew had found him, or Snowman wouldn't be losing his shit over the lost product, as well as the jack. Knowing that Snowman was just a middle man with his own bosses to answer to, he was reasonably sure that those unnamed bosses had not had any luck, either. He knew that they would have made an example out of him if they had.

All the evidence Torque had gotten from his sources had assured him that the dead were taken out by a shooter with a rifle. Specifically, a 30-06 Remington or M-40 military rifle, firing a 7.62 x 51mm NATO cartridge. It was a common army surplus ammo that could be found anywhere. The facts indicated that he was either alive and on the run with the drugs and money, dead after being betrayed by whoever assisted him, or in cahoots with the mysterious killer that was stalking his brothers.

The same person or people had to be responsible for all three of the recent ambushes on club members. Torque didn't have to be Kojak to figure that one out. So the $64,000 question had to be, "Was Early Bird in on it or had he escaped?" This last would make the most sense, as well as fitting the evidence, but whether he was in on it, or not, the Perros Locos president just wished Early Bird had died at the scene. Ar least that would remove him as a suspect.

The door of the clubhouse opened and Schultz stuck his head in.

"He's here" said the club Sgt.-at-Arms.

Knowing exactly how this was to go down, Torque scanned the room to make sure each of his brothers were ready. The eight patch-holders in the room remained calmly focused as Torque replied.

"Bring Snowman back, but keep his friends in here."

Schultz nodded as Torque walked through the door to the meeting room.

Snowman was a thin, fidgety guy of about 30. With no distinguishing features, apart from a nervous twitch of the fingertips on his left hand. It was especially noticeable when he was nervous or excited, and made him a terrible poker player. The fingertips were dancing as he walked in the clubhouse door. He was preceded by a large behemoth whose very countenance screamed "bodyguard", and was followed by another large goon whose eyes never rested as he scanned the room.

Schultz spoke up as he followed them in. "Torque said to bring ya on back. Yer friends can stay here."

The bodyguards started to tense up, but Snowman shook his head and quietly spoke. "Sure Schultzie, no prob"

The pair stepped into the back room and were greeted by Torque, who shook Snowman's hand and dismissed Schultz with a nod.

"One fucked up mess, Snowman"

"I agree, and we need to discuss what's being done to address this. I have some very serious people breathing down my neck."

"Welcome to the club, bro, cuz we all got royally fucked on this one."

"I believe that they feel that there is mounting evidence that your people are responsible."

"How the fuck do you figure that?"

"They are of the belief that your people have stepped on someone else's toes, and that we are just collateral damage in a problem you caused. The pulling of the patches, as well as the other two attacks support their belief that this problem rests with you."

Torque was struggling to maintain his self control over that statement when Snowman raised an open palm to stop him. "This is their words, and I am just the messenger. My neck is stretched out every bit as far as yours is here, Torque. I'm the one who brought you in to their business, and we all agree that it has been lucrative up until now." The dealer shook his head with a frown, "Unfortunately, they are beginning to...reassess whether or not to...maintain the partnership."

"C'mon Snowman, you know we have all been doing good. This is just a bump in the road."

"A bump? It is more like an earthquake." Snowman's voice rose in pitch as he continued to speak, "Look, if I can't safely move enough product, there is no future for me here. Do you feel me? NO FUTURE! There are DOZENS of others who can move it in my place. I PICKED YOU! I VOUCHED FOR YOU! I SURE AS HELL DON'T WANNA DIE FOR YOU!"

As Snowman's voice steadily rose, his bodyguards started to fidget. By the time the sentence was ending there was a loud crash at the bar drawing their eyes to him as Schultz swept a few bottles onto the floor, and laid a sawed off shotgun on the old hardwood counter top, pointing in their general direction.

"Easy boys." he said, as several of his brothers, well out of the line of fire, watched the pair squirm. "Everyone is gonna walk out of here in perfect health."

Back in the office, Torque reined in his temper, but his eyes were on fire. "Shut the fuck up, asshole!" We both got a problem, but we both have a lot to lose if we don't fix this shit. Now, let's compare notes and see what we can do."

Thirty minutes later, Snowman and his goons were gone. Torque spoke to his brothers as a group. "Officers meeting tonight at eight o'clock, and I want everyone here for a full meeting right after. That means EVERYONE!"