Savior Ch. 26

I'd been sitting under the hatch of the Caravan, listening to Hanna talk about leaving. The whole idea of her leaving bummed me out, though I certainly understood her reasoning. I was debating with myself if it'd be selfish of me to ask her to stay, knowing she wouldn't, when I'd heard the noise.

We held our watches about thirty feet back from the fence, positioned among the wrecks, so we couldn't easily be sniped. With only ten of us on watch at a time, we were spread far too thin to truly cover the entire lot. Because of our limited manpower, we'd left the side along the road unguarded, assuming the Orcas wouldn't take the risk of being seen by a passing car, and we kept only one man near the house and shop, depending on the lights and the noise of the women to discourage anyone from trying to get in there. That left only a little more than two sides to cover. We had the advantage of being under cover where we could see the fence, where the Orcas would be out in the open, but we were still woefully undermanned.

We'd talked about other watch schedules. We'd considered fewer or no men during daylight, and then using them to bolster the night watches. We'd also considered going to alternating twelve-hour watches, again to put more men on the fences, but in the end, we decided to stick to our original plan. We worried the risks of becoming exhausted outweighed any benefit the additional manpower might provide.

The last time the Orcas broke in, they came over the fence, throwing a couple of thick moving blankets over the barbed wire along the top so they could crawl over. This time I'd heard a snap that sounded suspiciously like someone cutting chain-link. Had I not been expecting something I'm not sure I'd have paid it any attention, but every little noise I heard now put me on alert, and we'd made it damn clear to everyone that after dark, if someone came into the boneyard, they were to call out their name so we didn't mistake them for the boogeyman.

During a lull in our conversation, I'd listened intently until I heard the noise again. That's when I'd shushed her and shut her in the Dodge, but I had no idea if the snip I'd heard was the first, the last, or it was simply my imagination and the soft patter of the rain playing tricks on me.

Now I was creeping along in the direction of the noise, searching for any sign of movement. It was almost impossible to see with no moon and the drizzle, but Hanna was the last person to announce her presence. If there was someone over there, they shouldn't be. I licked my lips, nervous about shooting a brother. The second night we'd very nearly had a tragedy when Will got turned around and wandered into Brock's area. Brock and Will had nearly shot each other, each thinking the other was an Orca. I didn't want to make that mistake, but I was equally afraid of calling out a challenge and announcing my location in case whoever might be out there wasn't a brother.

I was slowly creeping along between the cars, pausing every now and again to watch for movement and to listen for noise. To my right a shot rang out and I nearly shit myself. There was a brief pause, then a flurry of shots echoed from multiple directions.

"We're under attack," Palmer's voice roared from my left as another burst of gunfire rang out and men began to bellow and shriek in pain.

A figure rose from near the fence, running in a crouch across the road that paralleled the edge of the property. I popped up from my hiding place and fired twice, the man screaming as he fell. I ran to the man as he tried to claw his way into the cars. As I approached, the intruder rolled over and pointed his gun at me, but I was prepared for something like that and finished him with a shot to the head.

The fighting was hopelessly confused as pistol shots rang out in all directions. I ducked as a shot pinged off a car behind me. I glanced left and right, turning to fire at a moving shadow. Four I said to myself, trying to keep track of the number of rounds I'd discharged. Across the yard, Patrick's shotgun bellowed once, twice, and then a third time, and I prayed Patrick's aim had been true.

"Rand!" I bellowed as I retreated to the cars.

"Todd!" a voice answered.

Suddenly, voices of the Riders began to ring out all around the yard.

"Palmer!"

"Vince!"

"Dean!"

"Jacob!"

"Doug!"

"Chuck!"

"Paul!"

"Grayson!"

Each voice was often followed by a shot or two. Our voices rang out again and again as we started getting ourselves organized.

"Rand!" I roared as I spotted another man.

"Vince!" the voice replied as he spun, but the tenor was wrong and I pulled the trigger twice, dropping him.

Six. I ejected my magazine, fished one out of my pocket, and slammed it home. I had still had one full magazine in my pocket. I began moving toward the shop when Patrick's shotgun roared again.

"Rand!" I cried when I spotted another moving shadow.

"Vince!" the figured called, spinning toward me before we both jerked our weapons to high ready. I sighed in relief, knowing how close I'd come to dying. We moved together toward the shop. There were three bodies in the open ground between the cars and the shop, and another to the side, much closer than the other three.

"Vince and Rand!" Vince called before we stepped out from between the cars.

Patrick whirled out from behind the shop door, his shotgun leveled before he pointed it skyward. "I've got this! Go!" he yelled.

We plunged back into the cars, moving together. There were several more calls, a few answers, and a few more shots, but soon it was quiet, with only calls and answers.

"Riders!" Doug bellowed. "To the shop!"

"Go," I said, pushing him on the shoulder. "I have to go get Hanna."

"Fuck!" he snarled. "Riders!" he bellowed. "We've got to find Rachel!"

"And Stephanie!" Grayson called from somewhere.

Vince, Grayson, and I moved quickly through the cars. I was on edge, mentally telling myself over and over to make sure of my target before I pulled the trigger so I didn't shoot one of the women. I arrived at the Dodge, my heart pounding in my chest. The rear window had been shot out. Swallowing hard, I peeked through the side glass. I holstered my weapon and yanked the door open. Hanna clambered out and I pulled her into my arms, holding her as tightly as I dared.

"Thank God you're okay! Are you hurt?" I whispered as I brushed my hand through her hair.

"No. Are you?" I shook my head. "I was so scared," she whispered. "All I could do was cower on the floor with my hands over my ears."

"Good. That's what I wanted you to do."

"I screamed when someone shot out the glass."

"But you weren't hit?"

She shook her head. "No."

I didn't want to let her go, but if we didn't get to the shop soon, someone would come looking for us, and that only increased our chances of being shot by a friendly. With a supreme effort, I released her from my embrace and pulled my pistol.

"Stay behind me," I said, as I took her hand and began to lead her back to the shop.

We hurried to the shop, my pistol at low ready. Hanna and I were in the open and almost to the shop when Grayson appeared with Stephanie. Vince was already there with Rachel, and she was hugging Dean with desperate tightness. As we approached, I surveyed the crowd. It looked like everyone was there, most dressed, a few wearing only underwear and shoes, but all armed.

"Anyone hurt? Who's missing?" Doug asked, as Greyson and Stephanie arrived.

There was a rolling murmur of 'No' as we all looked around, seeing if everyone was present.

"Where's Jacob?" Palmer asked.

"Over here," Jacob replied, raising his hand. He was wearing only a pair of shorts and was covered in mud.

"What happened to you?" Vince asked with a smile.

Jacob grinned and shuffled his feet. "Fell getting out of the trailer. Hey! Let's see how well you do when you're woken up by a fucking war!" he complained when everyone began to laugh, which only made everyone laugh harder.

"We need to fan out, find out if anyone is still alive or if someone is still hiding," Doug said, calling everyone attention back to the task at hand.

"Two-man teams," Vince added. "If you see two men, make damn sure it's not a brother before you shoot. We were lucky tonight we didn't end up shooting each other."

"Good idea. Let's get this done before the cops get here."

"Rand, you're with me," Vince said.

"Patrick, you better open the gates, or the cops are libel to run them down," I said as I followed Vince back into the boneyard.

We'd covered only half the yard when the cops arrived in force, ten cruisers on the charge with lights flashing and sirens wailing as they skidded to a stop in the yard. Patrick and the women met them and got the officers calmed down as they bailed out of their cars with weapons drawn.

With police help, the search went much faster. At the end of an hour-long search, we found twenty-one dead and thirteen wounded, one of the dead killed by an officer when the wounded man trained a gun on him. The remainder of the wounded were quickly disarmed and then sent to BRMC—Bayport Regional Medical Center—two of the men hanging to life by the thinnest of threads, but the other eleven were expected to live.

Doug had a Rider on silent watch with a flashlight over the dead and wounded as we found them, so we didn't lose track of the bodies in the dark. That had aided greatly in the collection of wounded... and the dead.

Dead bodies were still being placed in Lincoln County Coroner vans when Police Chief Owen Buckley arrived in his personal Ford Explorer. "What the hell is going on here, Patrick?" Buckley growled as he stepped out of his vehicle wearing civilian clothes.

Buckley was a big man going soft, with steel grey hair, matching eyes, and a no bullshit attitude. He'd been an officer with the Bayport Police Department longer than I'd been alive.

"Don't you know? Hasn't Doug been telling you?" Patrick snapped in clear annoyance.

"Yeah, but I didn't know Bayport was going to be in the middle of a gang war."

Doug ground his teeth. "We're not a gang. We're not doing this. We're not out in the middle of the night breaking into places with guns," he snarled, his voice becoming louder and harder with every word. He paused, clearly trying to get control of rising annoyance. "We warned you about this, but you didn't do shit! If the Orcas move into town, you're going to have a lot more shit like this happening."

"I can't go around arresting people for no reason, Doug. Just because a couple of gang members break into a junk yard, or make veiled threats, doesn't mean I can start arresting people on the street just because they happen to be in the same gang."

"So basically, what you're telling me is, we're on our own," Doug snarled.

Buckley watched as another body was loaded into the corner's van. "No. Mills!"

"Yes, Chief?" Officer Mills said as he strode up.

"Get on the horn and tell all units that if there are any Orcas in town, I want them found and brought in for questioning. This has gone far enough." When Mills stepped away, Buckley turned his attention back to Doug. "If this doesn't stop, we'll shut you down."

"I don't know what you mean."

"Don't give me that shit, Meyer. You know exactly what I mean. You think we don't know about your little parties out in the woods? We do, but you keep it out of town and, I'll admit, help us with the bikers that come into town even when you're not racing, so we've looked the other way, but if this doesn't stop, we'll remove the reason the Orcas want to move in. No racing, no Orcas problem. Do I make myself clear?"

"I still don't know what you're talking about, but I can understand why you might say that."

Buckley watched as another bagged body arrived and was placed in the van. "This shit isn't supposed to happen in Bayport! Twenty-six dead in the last two weeks. Twenty-eight if those other two die. That's more people dead from gunshots in two weeks than in the entire thirty-two years I've been on the force... combined." Buckley shook his head again and started toward his vehicle, but then turned to face Doug and Patrick. "If something like this happens again, I'm going to expect you to close down... or we'll close you down. Don't mistake my willful blindness as ignorance."

Doug watched as Buckley turned around and drove out of the yard, then looked at Patrick. "Well, it was good while it lasted."

"Do you think they'll be back?" Hanna asked.

"Tonight? No," I said.

"Do you think Carl was here?"

I shrugged. "Don't know. We don't know how many Orcas were involved. Some of them may have gotten away when the shooting started."

"You really think they won't be back tonight?"

"Yes... or no, I don't think they'll be back. Too much heat."

"Then can we go somewhere private so you can hold me?"

I nodded. "I think we can find a place."

"I have to hand it to you, Meyer," Alex said. "You've almost made this more trouble than you're worth. I'd intended to push you out and have the Eugene chapter run the race, but that hasn't gone the way I intended. I can use people like you. Why don't you let us patch you over and you become the President of our newest chapter? It'll be a pleasant change to have someone I can trust... and you can show these stupid fucks in Eugene how to get things done."

Doug, Vince, and I were meeting with Alex Pye, Ted Helton, President of the Eugene chapter, and Carl. Alex had called and requested another meeting this morning, two days after the slaughter of his brothers. Doug was nervous about the meeting, but Alex assured him it would just be him, Ted and Carl. No threats, just a friendly conversation. I'd gone in Tim's place because Laura, Tim's wife, was suffering anxiety attacks since the Orcas' had stormed the yard.

Doug shook his head. "Can't do it, Alex. The cultures of the two clubs are just too different."

Alex nodded. "I figured you would say that. That's a pretty neat trick, you having the cops in your pocket and doing your work for you."

"They're trying to protect Bayport, just like we are."

"We're not going to let this drop, so here's the deal. Because I don't want to fight you and the cops, I'm willing to take your deal to end this peaceably, but with some conditions."

"What conditions?"

"First, no crotch rockets. We ride Harleys and we're not going to compete against some squid on a fucking race bike. The second is, we race against him," Alex said with a nod at me, "because he rides the Harley."

"He's our mechanic and crew chief!" Vince cried loudly, as if the idea was outrageous. The statement was the truth, just not the whole truth. "Doug, don't do it! You know why he rides that slow ass Harley. Let me race!"

"That's the conditions," Alex said, his voice firm.

Doug nodded slowly. "If we win, you agree to leave Bayport alone, leave us alone, and never come back?"

"And if I win, you leave behind all the support equipment for the race and walk away."

"That's almost a hundred grand in timing equipment and displays!"

"That's the deal you offered. Take or leave it. If you leave it, you're going to be responsible for a lot of people getting hurt. Make no mistake, we will win eventually, but there'll be a lot of bloodshed on both sides. Your club will be wiped out as an example to anyone else who gets any ideas, and possibly a lot of cops and innocent people will be killed along the way. It'll cost us a lot more time, effort, and money, but we will get what we want."

"How do I know you'll do what you say if you lose?"

"Because I'm giving you my word, just like I'm giving you my word if you don't take the deal, you'll be responsible for what happens next."

"Give us a minute," Doug said. We walked far enough away they couldn't overhear us before we stopped. "Either of you see a reason not to go for it?"

"No," Vince said, and I could tell he was working hard not to smile. "Alex thinks we fucked them up in yard, wait until he goes up against Rand on the Hell."

"Do you think we can trust them?" Doug asked.

"Does it matter?" I asked. "What choice to we have, really?"

Doug nodded slowly. "Yeah, you're probably right, but I don't trust these asshole as far as I can piss on them."

"Me either," Vice said, but Rand's right. "If we say no, we know they'll come at us again."

"So we're going to do this?" Doug asked.

"I think we have to," Vince said, his voice firm.

"Fuck. I don't like it, but I'm with you. I think this probably is our best shot. Fuck." He huffed. "Let's go tell them, but let's drag our feet on this a little."

"Yeah, we wouldn't want them to know how badly they just fucked up until it's too late," Vince said before scrubbing at his mouth furiously to cover his smile. "Maybe I better stay over here," he muttered from behind his hand, but when he pulled his hand away, the smile was gone.

Doug nodded in the direction of Orcas, and we followed him back to Alex and his two thugs. "Who will he be racing against?" he asked as we approached.

"We have a few guys to choose from. Bee's one. I understand he's been bragging he's done some street racing." Alex paused and glared at Carl. "I don't know if I believe it. He convinced Viper he could handle this operation, and he totally fucked that up."

"What do you say, Carl?" I taunted, trying to bait him. "The racer versus the mechanic. We can settle this between us just like you wanted."

Carl stared at me for a long moment, but just like in the parking lot during our first meeting, I could read the uncertainty in his eyes. "I'd love a chance to fuck you on the track, but it's Alex's call."

Alex glanced back and forth between Carl and me. "I'll let you know who I choose," he finally said.

Doug paused again, probably not wanting to seem too eager. "I don't like it, and I'm not sure I trust you, but I agree."

"Doug, no!" Vince said. "Let me race him!"

"I'm sorry, Vince," Doug said slowly. "I don't think we have a choice."

Vince turned away and looked at his feet. "Yeah, I know, Goddammit. I guess we don't have any choice." He looked up at me. "It's all up to you, Rand."

"I know I don't ride the super bikes like you guys, but I'm sure I can take this asshole!"

Doug nodded slowly. "I hope you're right." His gaze shifted from me to Alex. "The race is this Saturday. Because this'll be a grudge race, we won't charge you the entrance fee, but if you don't show, it's a forfeit, and we win. We meet at Doonz at six... and for fuck's sake, leave the guns and attitude in Portland. If you roll in there full of attitude, even if you do win, nobody will come back, and the only thing you'll be left holding is your dick in your hand."

Alex nodded then smiled, though there was little humor in it. "Done. You're sure you don't want to be patched over?"

"And be forced to ride a Harley? I'd rather walk."

Alex chuckled and then turned to Viper. "You could learn a thing or three from this guy."