The Damned Summer (The Ruin Trilogy) (14 page)

"Yeah,"
she whispered as tears started to stream down her face.

"That
puts me in a real pickle, needles," Spider said, fading back from her face
slightly. "I have to decide if I believe this brand new club member is
going to keep his mouth closed and go to jail for the rest of his life, or that
he'll turn rat. If he talks, then of course I'd have to have him killed, but
what if I have him offed and then find out he wasn't going to talk. If that
happened, I'd just feel rotten."

Stepping
back, he put his hand on his chin, thinking deeply. "What would you do,
needles? If you were in my shoes?"

"Kill
'em," she said louder than before, but still with a shaky voice.

"The
thing is," Spider said, turning and walking away. "You're not in my
shoes, and you're not in Tut's. You're in your own shoes, and you're knee deep
in some serious shit.

She quickly
walked after him. "The cops had picked me up, and I was holding enough H
to be charged with a felony, which would have put me in prison for at least ten
years!"

"You'd
had been out in five," Spider replied, his back still to her. "And we
would have taken care of you why you were in.

She fell to
her knees, almost grabbing the back of his legs, but too scared to touch him.
"I had to do six months a couple years back, and I barely made it. There
is no way I could do five years!"

"What
all did you tell them?"

"They
wanted me to give up someone who was patched in, not a Prop or a Berry. It was
the only way they would let me off. I gave them Tut since he had just got his
patch, I figured he would know the least."

"I
suppose that's pretty sound thinking for a dumbass little junkie bitch, like
you," Spider said, his back still to her.

"I'm so
sorry," she sobbed. "I'll do whatever I have to do to make this
right."

"That's
not possible and you know it."

"Please!"
She trembled like a reed in a fierce wind.

"Stop
with the whimpering," Spider snapped. "We're not going to kill
you."

"Thank
God," she said in a voice that sounded better than anything else she had
said since she came into the back room.

"Hold
her down, boys," Spider said, walking away.

The other
five did what they were told. Ann didn't struggle, fully expecting a gang rape
or something of that nature.

Spider walked
up to one of the big tool boxes. Pulling out a pair of pliers, he made his way
back to Ann.

"Ya
know, Ann, you've really forced me to think of a lot of shit here lately, dark
shit." He stood right above her now. She noticed what was in his hand, and
the other five could feel her tense up.

"Sometimes,
you've just got to bite the bullet, ya know?"     He squatted down,
tapping the pliers on her chin. "Ya gotta do the hard shit for the good of
the club. It's known as sacrifice, you ever heard of that word?"

Ann made a
squeaking noise, she didn't seem to be able to put any words together anymore
since those pliers showed up.

"I'm going
to let you live, but you're out of the club." He opened and closed the
jaws of the tool, making sure it was loose. "You already knew that though,
right?" He flickered his eyebrows in rhythm with the clacking of the
pliers' jaws.

She nodded
her head like a bobble head toy on the dashboard of a monster truck that was
raising some serious hell off in the hills somewhere. "Please," she
whispered, not knowing what was about to happen, other than it wasn't going to
be good.

"Believe
it or not, you've actually caught some luck today, cause you really should die
for what you've done. Slow and painful like," Spider snapped the jaws shut
one last time. The clacking of the metal teeth seemed to echo in the large room
for a moment.

Ann's ragged
breath was the only sound that followed the snap of the pliers.

"But the
real example that needs to be shown tonight, has nothing to do with you,"
he waved the pliers at his fellow bikers. "And everything to do with the
Sleazy Six. You see Ann, the more money the club makes, the more I depend on my
most trusted men. The more I depend on them, the heavier the responsibility is
on their shoulders, and that's some tough shit, and I understand that. You've
got to trust me, my brothers, your loyalty to me will someday be rewarded with
your darkest desires." He looked upon the other bikers with his patented
Spider's smile. The grin no one else could truly replicate with the cold evil
that he could. "And with this act, we will solidify our coven." 

Spider's eyes
rested on Frank's as he flipped the pliers around with a quick spin in the air,
the handles now facing outwards.

Frank had
been numb up till now, not knowing what to think or do. It was as if he was in
the back seat of a speeding car being chased by the cops, suddenly finding out
that the beer stop they had just done had really been a robbery that ended up
in the murder of the clerk. He hadn't known anything about any of it, but there
was the roadblock up ahead and a pistol had just been shoved into his hand. He
was either going to prison or dying in a gun fight. Hell of a decision to make.

The blood in
his veins seemed to thicken as it slowly froze, stopping him from moving his
limbs. The very oxygen in his lungs seemed to solidify from the coldness inside
his body, not allowing him to speak, slowly choking him.

Spider sensed
his struggle and moved his eyes on to Beans. "She's your old lady, seems
only right you do the deed," he held the tool out towards the tunnel rat.

"Sure,"
Beans replied with no hesitation, taking the pliers and switching places with
Spider.

Spider
glanced at Frank, giving him a quick wink. God only knew what the hell that
meant.

"What
kind of procedure are we performing this evening?" Beans asked, looking
down at Ann as if she was a pig for slaughter.

"Beanie,
please," she whispered.

He reached
down and slapped her, hard.

It was common
knowledge to never call him Beanie. He must have allowed her to use it during
times of intimacy when it had been just the two of them. It was a testament of
his actual feelings for her. Feelings she had called upon at this time of dire
fear with negative results. One quick slap had shown Beans' true loyalty, which
made Spider smile once again.

"Removal
of her front teeth," Spider replied. "Two top, two bottom.

As Beans went
down on his knees, Ann found her voice, screaming wildly. Beans pushed her head
to one side, setting one of his knees down, so she couldn't move around. Her
screaming turned to whining as she clenched her teeth. Her tactic didn't really
slow him down, quickly bringing back the screaming, along with crying, choking,
hacking and gurgling as blood quickly traveled down her throat. Each yank was
followed by a howling scream like none Frank had heard since the war. That
scream had come from a woman that had been torched by a flamethrower from
behind. She had died quickly, but had left this world with one last scream
reminiscent of what he heard now.

Beans would
pause in between each pull to wipe the blood from the pliers onto his jeans, so
they could get a better grip, Frank guessed, even though he was sure the tool
would have worked just fine either way. The sounds she made in between the
extractions were even worse than the screams. The crying, pleading and gurgling
was just soul shaking.

Frank was
thankful he had a hold of one of her legs, which were harder to hold down than
an arm, but at least he wasn't as close to the torture. Beans had his back to
him, so he couldn't see her eyes but he could see the other three holding her
down.

Fizz had the
same look that he did when they were pulling a stingy engine out of a car. He
looked slightly annoyed that things weren't going smoother, but no big deal. The
damn things would come out soon enough and then he could go back to drinking.

The airborne
boys definitely had a different look in their eyes. Pogo had a hold of her
other arm, and it was like he was watching a particularly good, bloody boxing
match. With every pull, he would make a hiss and then either chuckle or curse
in amusement. It was quite the show for him.

Paint was on
the other leg, and kept trying to get a good look at the action but all of
Ann's kicking kept drawing his attention back to his job, pissing him off. He
made her pay for him missing the show with a punch to her thigh.

"What
the hell have I gotten into?"
Frank asked himself as the final tooth came out.

"Let her
loose boys," Spider commanded as Beans climbed off her.

She crawled
away and made a noise like a wounded banshee.

"How
about some complimentary white horse to help with the pain?" Spider called
out to her as she staggered to her feet, running for the exit.

She reached
the door handle, grabbing it but not opening it as Spider's words sunk in. She
didn't leave, but she didn't turn around. Her body shook with pain and fear as
she cried and moaned, leaning her head against the metal door.

"What a
fucking junkie," Spider said, pulling a small balloon full of heroin from
his pocket and throwing it toward Ann. The balloon arced through the air,
landing on the smooth concrete and sliding up to her foot, slowly bouncing off
her heel, coming to a stop about four inches from her.

She reached
down, picking it up without looking back and then rushing out the exit.

"There
is no way she won't OD on that," Paint said.

"That's
the idea," Spider replied, making everyone chuckle except two of them.
Frank didn't think it was funny, Beans was somewhere else. Somewhere where
nothing was funny.

Beans turned
towards the others. His mouth was open, breathing hard, his eyes were iced
insanity.

Beans' look
stole everyone's voice, except Spider's of course.

"You
ready to go party, Tunnel Rat?" Spider asked.

Beans didn't
answer, just stared at the bloody pliers. "These are mine now."

"Sure
are," Spider agreed.

Beans nodded
his head once, then put them in his back pocket and walked back toward the
clubhouse. For the rest of the time that Frank knew the tunnel rat, those
pliers were either in that back pocket or in his hand.

The rest of
them followed after Beans. No words were said between them as they walked.

Spider's hand
was suddenly on Frank's shoulder as he whispered in Frank's ear. "Hold up
a second, let's you and me talk."

Frank nodded
his head in silence as the others went through the door to the club, no one
looking back. No one noticing the two left behind.

"I was
really planning on you being the dentist tonight, Franky," Spider said,
lighting up a joint and inhaling deeply. "But I could tell by your eyes,
you weren't up to the task," he said after exhaling the smoke, then
handing it to Frank.

Frank took a
deep drag, then slowly letting it out. "Sorry, man, that was just..."
he couldn't find the words to finish his sentence.

"Nam,"
Spider finished for him. "It was too Nam, right?"

Frank took
another drag, nodding his head. 

"Don't
sweat it Franky, that war shit is still floating around in yer head, fuckin'
with you," he said, taking back the joint. "You just need a little
time to ease into this stuff, we'll take it slow," he patted him on the
back with a smile.

"Sounds
good, man, thanks," Frank replied, lying through his teeth. His real plan
was to go get a couple hours of sleep back at his apartment, and then throw all
of his belongings onto his bike in a knapsack and drive three-hundred and fifty
miles straight back to Storm Illinois, which was way off the beaten track of
the
Dead Bikers'
Chicago territory. Only one of them knew where he was
from, and he intended on talking her into coming back with him tonight. They
both had to get out of this shit.

Franky's plan
of leaving anytime soon that night slowly burned away, as the gang party was in
full swing and he couldn't get to her without Spider somewhere close by. It
wasn't until about four thirty in the morning before it seemed like Spider was
engrossed in a poker game, forgetting all about his woman. The woman he had
stole from Franky.

"Margie,"
Frank whispered as she finished up a shot of whiskey. "I need to talk to
you," he motioned his head to the door. "Outside."

She just
looked at him with blank eyes for a moment, then glanced over at Spider.
"What else I got to do?" she said with a shrug, walking right past
him to the door. He slowly followed after, looking back to make sure Spider
hadn't noticed. She pushed the door open way too hard, forcing Frank to run the
last four steps to stop the door from slamming shut.

"Shit!"
Frank said. "Are you trying to get his attention?"

"He
scares you that bad?" She asked, lighting up a cigarette.

Frank was so
tired of her shit. A part of him wondered if his real reason for trying to get
her to come with him was because he still cared about her, or if it was simply
because she was the only one that could tell Spider where they were from. He
knew she hadn't told him yet, cause that was one of the rules of the gang:
nobody talked about where they were from or where they thought they were going,
cause they weren't going anywhere. They were staying with the
Dead Bikers
,
unless they died of course, that was the only way to get walking papers out of
the club. Paper being a death certificate.

He rolled the
dice, what else could he do? "I'm leaving for good tomorrow, I want you to
come with me."

"Why
would I want to do that?" genuine confusion crossed her face. "I'm
the leader's old lady, I can't climb any higher than this. Why would I want to
run off with some loser who is hanging on to his patch by a thread?" She
blew smoke in his face. "This is your grand scheme to win me back? To show
me you're not just a loser but a coward? You sure know how to make a girl
swoon," she started back inside.

He grabbed
her arm lightly, but she stopped, turning back.

"Did you
hear what they did to Ann?"

She tilted
her head. "When you say they, you're including yourself, right? Cause you
were there, helping hold her down."

"Yeah, I
was involved," he admitted. "That was the last straw for me. I'm done
with all this..." his mind searched for the right word to define the
situation. "Evil shit," his mind finally decided. "After Ann,
how could you not be as well?"

She looked
off towards the shit smell river, saying nothing, but not walking off either.

"This is
our last chance to go before everything goes to hell," he said. "I
can feel it, and so can you."

"Where
would you go? Back to Storm?"

"Yeah,
they'd never find us down there in the middle of nowhere."      

"Unless I stay, and tell
Spider right where you ran to."

"Yeah, I'm going either
way."

She still looked at the river,
seeming to actually consider leaving.

"Spider's plans have been
getting a little out of hand," she looked back at him. "He's been
talking about hitting a bank out in one of the suburbs."

"That'll be the end of the
gang," Frank replied. "That will bring in the Feds."

"When are you leaving?"

"I'm packed and ready to
go," he lied. "Figure I'll go home, get a couple hours sleep and then
hit the road by eight or nine."

"I'll need more time than
that, I'll meet you at your place by ten or ten thirty."

"I was really wanting to get
on the road before then."

"Relax," she replied,
pointing back to the clubhouse. "Nobody in there is even going to be awake
before two in the afternoon. We'll almost be home by then."

"So, you're coming
with?"

She tossed away her smoke.
"I don't know... maybe." She looked back at him. "If I'm not
there by ten thirty, don't wait, just go."

He looked down, nodding his head.

"Don't worry, I won't tell
him about Storm if I stay," she said. "If he asks, I'll say we met up
right before we came to Chicago. I'll mention you saying something about being
from up North, Michigan or Wisconsin or something, hell, I can't remember."

She turned without another word
and walked back inside.

Frank went back to his bike and
had to kick-start the damn thing six times before she roared to life. With each
kick he waited for a bullet in the back of his head, but none came, so he shot
off into the night.

The sun was making its way up by
the time he laid down on his couch and closed his eyes. He had set his alarm
clock for nine thirty, but he doubted he would need the clock to wake him
before then. He was right.

Franky awoke from the pressure of
a large knife pressing on his throat. Slowly opening his eyes, he saw Spider,
sitting on the couch beside him, a smile on his face and his large, army Ka-Bar
knife in his hand.

"I had such hopes for you,
Franky," Spider said. "Do you know at one time I even thought you
might have what it takes to be my second in command?" He scraped the black
blade around lightly, like he was giving him a shave. "And here you are,
nothing more than a panty waste little pussy, running from the only thing that
could actually make you something."

"I'm done with the
club," Frank whispered, the pressure of the blade making it impossible to
speak any louder.

"Then you're dead,"
Spider made it sound like he was talking about the weather, just a little rain
is all.

Frank nodded his head slightly,
causing a nick of blood to rise from his neck.

Spider's smile changed to a snarl
as he removed the blade from Frank's neck and thumped his forehead with the
butt of his knife.

"Shit!" Frank replied,
bringing his hand to his forehead.

Spider stalked the room like a
rabid tiger, pointing his knife at Frank. "You got your wish, you fuck,
you're done with my club. I'm going to tell them I killed you and dumped your
bike in the river. That old piece of shit Indian ain't worth scraping anyway."

"Why would you do me any
favors?" Frank asked.

Spider threw his hands over his
heart. "Maybe it's all the guilt I feel about stealing your old lady last
year. After doing you so much harm, how could I possibly do anything more to
you and still live with myself?"

"Bullshit," Frank
replied, sitting up.

Spider chuckled, pointing again
at him with the Ka-Bar. "Damn straight, that's bullshit." He stepped
forward, bending down and getting right in front on Frank's face.

"The real shit is that the
club is done with you, but I'm not." For just a moment Spider's eyes
seemed to glow a dull orange, must have been a reflection from the sun.
"You've put a serious kink in my long term plans, but don't worry, I'll smooth
it all out on myself." He stood back up, slowly walking backwards, still
pointing at him with his knife.

"And not only have you not
seen the last of me, the price you are going to have to pay for your mutiny is
going to be soooo much worse than your own death," he put his knife back
in its sheath. "Enjoy the good life while it lasts, Franky, cause it never
lasts long." He walked out, leaving the door wide open.

Franky didn't move until he heard
Spider's bike start up and drive off, then he grabbed his shit, jumped on his
bike and never looked back. It didn't occur to him until that moment that he
had discarded the tainted switchblade, simply to have it replaced with the bike
he now rode on. Cursed heirlooms really were hard to get rid of.  

Things did start to pan out for
Frank after that. He made it back to Storm. Got a job working at a local garage
as a mechanic, fell in love with the owner's daughter and eventually married
her. A few years after that, Frank took over the shop as his parents-in-law
retired and moved off to Florida. A year or so after that, Frank's wife, Beth,
had a baby girl. Things really had improved for Frank in a relatively short
span of time, but just like Spider had told him, enjoy it while it lasts, cause
it never lasts long.

Back in the present, Frank was
opening one of the cabinets in his garage. He squinted, trying to see the
contents in the darkness. There was a cardboard box that could possibly hold
some new bulbs. He pulled it out into the slightly better light to see what he
had and his heart stopped cold. He looked at the old shoe box that was
decorated with crayon rainbows and stick pictures of a father and daughter
holding hands. It was the box his daughter had decorated for one of his
birthday presents. His daughter Lisa. His dead daughter Lisa.

The strength in his legs
disappeared, so he leaned up against the old bike, hating that he needed to use
it as a crutch  but having no choice. For he knew if he went to the cold
concrete floor, he might not have the strength to get back up. He might just
lay there until he died.

Lloyd let out a quiet whine,
concerned for his partner and dearest friend.

"I'll be alright boy, just
give me a second," tears streamed down his face as he grieved for his
daughter and wife, leaning against the evil machine of his youth. He was so
tired of this damn life. He was more than ready to throw in the towel.

"Not quite done yet though,
am I boy?"

Lloyd sat down, not really
knowing how to reply. Humans could be so obscure when it came to communication.

"Not yet," Frank
answered himself, forcing the strength back into his legs and walking away from
the old Indian motorcycle. The old shoe box was still in his hand. He would be
placing it next to the picture of his wife on the nightstand.