Page 20 of Road Rash

“Dane!” I cry out to him. He charges, ramming his shoulder into Bull’s gut knocking him off balance and sending the massive body careening into the wall. Dane’s a big man, a strong man, but Bull is one giant mass of bulk. That doesn’t stop Dane from going after him with everything he’s got in him. Rex and Boss jump in. Somehow, as the fight escalates, it moves from the hallway to the main room. More Horde fall in to fight alongside their brother, though with the Horde, I think they just want to fight more than sticking up for one of their own.

Mad Man, Specter and other Outcasts start throwing punches.

Steph brings her foot up to catch a man in the balls, then jumps over the bar when Remy grabs ahold of her arm to tug her out of the way and there’s me, standing in the middle of it all, because as unsafe as it is to stay standing where I am, there’s no opening for me to escape without getting struck by a fist or elbow.

The posers jump into the fray now. This is the kind of shit they live for. They live these upwardly mobile lives from day to day but two weeks out of the year they get to play biker without actually having to commit to the lifestyle. I’m not too much different. I’m a manager for a crappy chain restaurant in my day to day, dealing with rude customers and making sure all the cogs in our machine run smoothly. But two weeks out of the year—a rogue fist comes at me and my brain and body sync enough to get me moving. I dart out of the way right before catching it in the stomach. The owner of that fist stumbles and falls to his knees thanks to the momentum of the punch.

“Jonesie,” Dane yells. I whip my head in the direction of his voice. “Get her out of here,” he orders one of the posers closest to me. A man who for at least these two weeks out of the year they call Slim.

Slim grabs my hand and he yanks me back behind the bar into the kitchen. We escape out the back door, coming face to face with the large, green dumpster now coated in a layer of black smoke and bubbled paint from the heat of the flames.

We stop so I can catch my breath. Slim looks me over. It’s not creepy. He’s a doctor in his real life. A neurologist, I think.

“You okay to ride?” he asks.

I nod.

“Good. Then let’s get you out of here.”

We pause before rounding the corner to check to see if any nefarious person is hiding in wait for us in order to finish the job he started when he bashed me over the head with whatever he hit me with. Most likely the butt end of the gun he used to shoot Brandi and Drake.

Nobody is milling about outside, what with the crazy going on inside. We round the last corner coming out to the front of The Rash where he leads me over to the long row of bikes parked diagonally to fit more bikes into the spaces. His is a Harley Ultra Limited. All chrome and fire engine red. A custom higher back for the driver. I’m not that up on all the latest models, he just can’t help bragging as he helps me on the back. It’s pretty and can’t be more than six months to a year old.

“Got her for Christmas,” he says. So I was right. Posers love to brag. The hardened brothers who live the biker life don’t need to brag. They let the bike do all the talking. “I’ve been meaning to ask, how are the other two doing? Brandi and her husband?”

The helmets have speakers inside them allowing him to talk to me without yelling. It’s a little loud for my head and given that it’s night and I’m not wholly familiar with this model of helmet, I don’t know how to turn it down. My brain feels like it’s vibrating in my skull.

“Dane says they’re doing better,” I answer. It’s just normal conversation, but it sets me on edge. The day catching up to me and whatnot. I don’t want to converse. I want a soft pillow and comfy bed. I want Dane holding me, whispering in my ear that it’s all going to be okay.

“Are they out of the hospital yet?”

“They were supposed to get out today I think.”

Slim drives past the turnoff to the road that takes us back to the farm.

“Where are we going?” I ask. “You missed the turnoff.”

“I’m getting you out of town. Old Man asked me to get you out.”

“Well… I’m not really dressed to go anywhere.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he says. While he gets me to safety, I keep an eye out for animals.

If he only understood that since I woke up in that hospital, all I have is worry.

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