Page 82 of Enemy
I roll away before Puck can cover me and climb back to my feet, fueled by hope that I might survive this fuckery. The safety’s off, and once I make sure no one’s coming at me from behind, I shoot into the outliers from the crowd.
“Intruder!” someone screams as I dash behind the building, hearing the grunt of bullets hitting the concrete I’ve just passed. There’ll be more of them coming, so I grab the wooden pallet covering the spot where I hid my bike by the bush, and lead it out, because there is no time to wait. The screams get louder, but I’m out of here the moment the engine starts. There is no time for warm-up, nor to consider where to go. I bolt ahead, with the asphalt passing beneath the bright glow cast by my headlamp.
I get to breakneck speed in seconds, my heart pumping at least as fast as Smokey is going. The men chasing me were on foot, so they will have to go back to get their bikes if they want to catch me, but by that point, I’ll be too far away. I laugh out loud and scream in victory.
I create more distance between me and the Butchers by the second. As I do that and my mind calms, I’m reminded why I was there in the first place.
Clyde. He misses me. I don’t know what happened, but he said he understood what I did.
And then ittrulyhits me. I didn’t just leave the Butchers behind.
I lefthimbehind.
A cold wave of nausea makes me hit the brakes on my motorcycle. The only reason why I didn’t do it even more abruptly is that I’m of no use to him ejected out of the seat and a splatter of meat on asphalt.
My escape was so chaotic, so filled with mayhem, I didn’t have time to register what it means that Clyde shot Puck out in the open.
Fuck fuck fuck!
It’s over for him.
He sacrificed his whole life to save me, and Ileft him behind.
My throat aches, as if guilt turned to stone and was trying to push its way out of me. I need to go back. I need to get him on the bitch seat and take him to safety, no matter the cost.
Ready to kill every single man or woman in that compound, I turn Smokey around. It’s a race against time after that, because I hear screams even over the roar of my engine, and I join them, unsure how many bullets I have left but ready to use all of them.
My front wheel staggers when I stop, and my stomach drops as the back of my ride lifts off the asphalt. A quick twist of the handlebars settles me in place, ready to take Clyde on the bitch seat as soon as we spot one another.
The Butchers are so focused on the turmoil in their midst, that they don’t even notice my arrival, so I pull out my gun and aim, eager to cover my man when the time comes.
For a second, I’m not sure whether he’s within sight, but the neon above the bar reveals a hunched figure kneeling in the dirt. I can’t see all of him, not with all the tall shadows surrounding him from all sides, but the long braid hanging down his back is a dead giveaway. My blood boils when someone kicks him to the ground, and I shoot without thinking to get their attention.
“Come at me, fuckers!” I yell at the top of my lungs. I could take on an army right now just to get them off him.
One of the dark silhouettes turns his head my way for a second, and I spot a gun in his hand. I fully expect to dodge a bullet, but the man aims at Clyde and pulls the trigger.
I stop breathing, and pain spreads through my chest, then down, into my legs.
At first I hope it’s torture, a way to humiliate him, but Clyde falls into a heap and… stills. He’s not trying to get away, or beg for his life. He’s… gone.
My Clyde is gone.
Tears blur my eyes, and I sob, breathing in the sharp scent of gasoline. A part of me hopes he will stir, show me that it’s all a bluff, that if I charge now, maybe he can survive, but the man who shot him grabs him by the ankles and drags his limp form away from the colorful glow of the neon light.
My lungs refuse to work as I watch the men argue. Some start running my way, one spits at Clyde’s dead body, then kicks it, and I pull the trigger, only to hear the dull click of the empty magazine.
What the fuck have I done?
It’s my fault he’s dead.
I came here. I got in trouble, prompting him to save me.
And now he’s no longer alive. I can never tell him how much he means to me.
A bullet whistles too close to my ear, and I speed off, awakened from my trance. The poison of Clyde’s fate penetrates every bit of me, killing any joy I might have found with or without him. My heart beats so very fast it’s making me lightheaded, but I don’t slow, because crashing right now and not having to live on with the terrible fucking knowledge that I’ll never again hold him would be mercy.
But I survive. Despite the recklessness of my nightly ride, the high speed, the choking sensation in my chest, I’m still standing by the time I slow down in the dark woods,far away from the men who killed the one person who ever made me feel like there’s something out there for me. Something soft, and peaceful, and tender.
