Page 19 of Patchover Fright Night
Grease reappeared briefly, shoving the axe into Sophie’s hands, before he guided Lissa into the room and into a chair in the corner. She immediately started spinning around on it, gleefully singing out ‘wheeeee’.Fuck me. Sophie and Tori swapped weapons, and Cammy grabbed another chair, edging into the corner. She looked exhausted, and probably needed to get away from here, but we were out of opportunities for that right now.
“Stay safe!” I hissed at them, as we pulled the remains of the door closed behind us, and headed for the main doors. Before we left, I made Grease help me move a sofa in the way of the hallway. It wasn’t much, but I had to hope like fuck that it slowed down any intruders, long enough for the ladies to mount a defence.
“This is fucking insane,” I murmured to Grease as we stepped outside, and he groaned, ducking a flying glass bottle.
“Fuck me. This is like a riot or something.” There was so much scrapping going on that people were bleeding, and their clothes were torn, but they weren’t slowing down.
“How the hell do we fix them?”
I grabbed Grease’s arm as he started to tilt to the left, and dragged him along, as we made our way to the bunkhouse, and Ice, I hoped.
Chapter Eight
Of course it wasn’ta small enough safe for me to move on my own, or probably even with a couple of men, who weren’t off their fucking faces right now. Shit. What the hell was I supposed to do now? There was no way to get a call out, and no possible way to find the jammer, because that fucker could be small, and up high somewhere. Still… depending on where it was, there might be a fucking dead spot, as in maybe somewhere on the grounds I could get a call out. I dug out my phone and groaned at the battery power, more than half drained, probably by trying to reach for a fucking non-existent signal constantly.
Okay, new plan. I’d head to the edges of the compound and keep trying, and failing that, I’d head out of the gates and up the lane. It wasn’t that I hadn’t considered that already, it was just that I didn’t want to fucking leave them without protection, any of them, that is, and if I opened the gates, what if some of them got out? They were all dangerous liabilities right now. A threat to themselves and others. Anyone on this kind of hallucinogenic is unpredictable and deadly, but bikers? Men who loved to fightand brawl, and were sometimes adept at killing? You didn’t want them running loose without their faculties.
I hurried back to the door, and ran outside without even fucking checking first, and that was my first mistake, or the first since I tried moving a safe big enough to hold a fucking person.
Something hit me hard in the face, and I went down like a sack of potatoes. My vision swam briefly, but I could tell someone was leaning over me.
“Couldn’t just fucking get drunk like the others, could ya?” Something slammed into my face again, and the lights went out.
Micro
Something was wrong, andI knew that for several reasons. First of all, everywhere I looked, I saw Soph, dead, displayed in pieces, or just sprawled grotesquely, like her being dead wasn’t enough of a fucking horror show. Also my dad kept following me, calling me pathetic, a loser, a waste of space. A load my dead mama should have swallowed, or better yet, spat out on the floor and pissed on. You get the point. I knew it wasn’t possible. Because I knew that fucker was dead, and that meant, hopefully, maybe, I was also seeing things that weren’t true about Sophie.
I felt like I was trapped in a bubble of unreality, but clarity kept finding a way though, even if it didn’t last.
After Stitch landed on both of us, and I heard something crunch, I waited for the pain to erupt, but it wasn’t me who broke something. One of them groaned, either Stitch or Torch,and I sat up, wondering if it was even safe to move them, while knowing I couldn’t move without doing just that.
“Pussy. A real man would just fucking get up. Is it any wonder I was so ashamed of you?”
I ignored my ghost of a father, because I could only deal with so much hell right now, and that cunt was dead.
“Stitch? Torch?”
I dragged a hand over my eyes, finding it bloody when I lowered it. Great. Was it my blood or theirs? If it was mine, wouldn’t I fucking feel the pain?
“Pathetic,”my dad spat, smacking the back of my head, and that fucking hurt. He shouldn’t be able to do that. Nope. I’d fallen back against the hard ground, and smacked it myself. Jesus fuck.
“What…” I heard Stitch, and that was a relief, because at least he was fucking alive.
“Stitch?”
“Did I do it? I flew… I really flew, didn’t I?”
Fuck me. He was doing worse than me.
“Can you get off my fucking leg, you stupid, dumb, fucking asshole!” Torch suddenly yelled out, and when Stitch tried to move, he gasped, hissing in a sharp breath, as whatever had crunched reminded him of his injury.
“Shit.”
“Stitch?” He stared around him, suddenly having a little more clarity than he’d had, when he launched himself off a fucking building. I sat up again, and saw him gripping his shoulder with the other arm.
“You hurt?”
I looked around us, my stomach rolling as a dead Sophie seemed to be on either side of me. Every time I saw her, it crushed a little more of my fucking soul.
