Page 27 of StoryTeller's Tale

When Slugger appears with Ce Ce—the reason that she missed breakfast duties abundantly clear—I know my time is running out. As my brothers start busying themselves, I down another cup of coffee and visit the heads. Then, before leaving the clubhouse, I have to suffer my back being slapped multiple times as I say my goodbyes. By the time I reach the exit, my skin is stinging.

“We’ll be right behind you, Brother,” Iron, standing by the door, promises, touching his fist to mine.

“Got a nice burial spot picked out for yah,” Skunk confides with a twinkle in his eyes.

Fire nudges him. “And the epitaph will simply read, ‘Here lies the man whose story came to an end.’”

Again, my middle finger gets some use.

Legend’s farewell is far more practical. He pulls me aside and takes a moment to talk me through how the almost invisible earpiece that will go into my ear will work. Although by itself it’s already well camouflaged, my long hair will also work to disguise it.

Finally, knowing I’m as prepared as I can be, and that I’m looking at a couple of hours ride before reaching my destination, I leave with a cursory wave toward Prez and the Alpha who are waiting by their bikes, ready to ride.

As I paddle walk my bike out of its parking spot and switch on the engine, I try to clear my mind of anything but the mission in hand.

Find the Dominators’ lair and rescue the damsel in distress.

Yeah, perhaps I do think of myself as a modern-day knight in armour, be it that my protection is only made of leather, and my steed is of steel.

No stranger to riding alone, it doesn’t feel unusual as solo I head through the gates and the road leading to Phoenix, dutifully following the instructions of the GPS that Legend had programmed for me.

For a while, I focus on the asphalt disappearing under my wheels and the growling thump of my engine underneath me. I could spend the journey planning exactly what to do or say but know improvisation will be better than any practiced routine. I have no idea how the Dominators will take either my sudden appearance or my request, whether words will be adequate or whether I’ll need to use fists.

Hopefully, it’s my wits that will be sufficient, and that I’ll be given time to say my piece before they resort to bullets.

I ride on, enjoying the feeling of the sun on my face, the wind blowing through my hair that while tamed by a tie, isn’t constricted by a helmet, that not being necessary in my home state.

Finally, I reach the vicinity where I will find my prize, my princess to be rescued in this particular story. I pull to a halt and take out a cigarette, relishing it as I draw the smoke in deeply, hell-bent on enjoying what could be my last ever nicotine hit.

Not wanting to be taken at any disadvantage, I piss against the nearest tree, then, back at my bike, bend over the tank and rub at my temples. Finally, I tap the button that triggers the earpiece’s connection, and quietly state, “I’m going in.”

“You can still back out,” Chaz suggests, his voice sounding tinny and thin.

“What, and spoil Slugger’s fun?” I shake my head.

Slugger’s snort comes loud and clear down the line.

Without waiting for another reply, I turn the key and start the engine once again, and this time don’t deviate and head straight for the building where we’re pretty certain Sheri is being held.

I don’t get very close. A loud gunshot makes my bike veer as I try to make less of a target of myself. I pull to a halt, kick down the stand, and swinging my leg over the seat, get off.

With my hands held up high, I face the farmhouse that’s seen better days. When, despite me making myself a target, there’s no more gunfire, I start to approach.

“That’s far enough,” a voice rings out.

I try to stand as nonchalant as a man with his arms up over his head can. This can go one of two ways. They’ll either shoot me on the spot—I obviously have shown I have knowledge about where at least one of their safe houses is—or question me to find out what I want. I’m hoping it’s not the former, and that they’ll be intelligent enough to guess that if I’ve found their location, others are in the know. At the least they’ll probably want information.

Within seconds, I’m surrounded and given a thorough pat down. They’re no slouches, the search conducted done by experts. Even if I’d been stupid enough to try to sneak in a hidden knife, they’d have found it.

I don’t feel naked without the weapons I left behind. I can do enough damage with my hands. So, I stand stoically and take it.

One steps forward, eyeing me cautiously. “What business have you here, Soul?”

Although I’ve not been given permission, I lower my hands. “Got a proposition for you, Dominator.”

He snorts. “Yeah?” As he looks around at his companions, they dutifully laugh. He turns back to me. “You think you’ve got anything to offer? Seems like we’re in the driver’s seat here. And it could be we just fancy sending a Soul to fuckin’ Hell.”

Feigning a confidence I don’t really feel, I sigh. “Sure, if that’s what you want, but you’ll never know what you’re missing.”

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