Page 39 of Ripper
“No, why? Where is he supposed to be?” I asked.
My throat was dry, and I downed the rest of the flat beer in my hands before resting the bottle down on the table.
“He was on a run a few hours ago. He was supposed to be back right now. I sent him alone because it was supposed to be a quick job. All he had to do was make the sale down by the old movie theater.”
“No word?”
“No. I’m heading there now. Meet me. This shit ain’t like him. He’d check in or fucking reach me at my damn house if I didn’t answer. Something had to have happened,” said Tank.
“We’ll find him. He’ll be fine. I’ll be there, Tank. Don’t worry.”
“Thanks.”
I grabbed my jacket and keys, heading out into the cool morning air. It was still pretty dark out even with the subtle stripes of orange, pink, and purple hues peeking through. I started up my engine, hearing it tear through the air louder than usual because the whole fucking neighborhood was asleep. I gripped the handles tightly, shaking off the last bit of grogginess because Claymore needed me alert right now. It was a rough time when any of the Rebels went ghost because even if shit went down, we’d all usually cling to enough energy to let the rest of the club know what was going on. My stomach turned at the thought of something happening to him, and I had a feeling Tank was feeling the exact same way.
I sped down the empty streets until I made it to the old movie theater with its letterboard sign and gold-framed posters. There was no one in sight from what I could tell, but that’s when I heard the loud, pained groan coming from the back parking lot. I hopped off my bike, grabbing the gun that was safely tucked away in its holster, moving in even though Tank hadn’t arrived yet. The streetlights were still on overhead, and I glanced around the corner to see Claymore’s practically lifeless body keeled over, blood oozing from the back of his head. I looked up to see two Freeway Fucks beating the shit out of him with a metal bat, and I stepped out and cleared my throat, watching as they fucking snarled at me.
“Show’s over. You’re gonna step away from him now, or I’m gonna blow both of your fucking heads off, got it?”
“The fuck you gonna do about it, Rebel?”
One of them charged right at me with that fucking bat, but I shot him right in the kneecap. The other one lunged forward, but a shot was fired from behind me, hitting his shoulder. I turned around to see Tank standing there with his gun out, his lips pressed together angrily. I rushed over to Claymore’s side, and he was fully unconscious now, but before Tank and I could help him up, we heard more footsteps approaching.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I said.
“I’ll handle these fuckers. You get Claymore up and out of here. I called Will, he should be back at the clubhouse by the time you get there,” Tank ordered.
“I can’t leave you here with these goons. There’s too many of ’em. Besides, you don’t have much time before someone calls the fucking cops.”
“I’ll handle it. Go. Now!”
I shot my way through as many of them as I could before I rushed back over to Claymore’s side. I shook him as hard as I could, slapping his face lightly, and I watched his eyelids flutter open.
“Claymore, I’m gonna need you to wake your ass up, buddy. We need to get you out of here,” I murmured.
Gunshots were ringing high in the air now, and I looked over to see Tank ducking behind the dumpster at the far corner of the lot, using up all the damn bullets he had. His shot wasn’t as good as it usually was, and I watched him closely for a second to see that his hand was shaking. I wasn’t about to let these Freeway Fucks wipe the floor with the president. I propped Claymore up against the brick wall as he winced in pain. I grabbed my gun, joining Tank in the line of fire, and I saw the anger in his eyes.
“The fuck are you doing?” he shouted at me.
“I’m finishing this. I ain’t leaving till these fuckers are dead,” I said.
I shot three of them until they were down on the ground groaning, begging for their lives. I pummeled another when my clip finally emptied, and as the screams started to erupt from surrounding civilians, we knew we had to get the fuck out of there. Tank and I had the opening we needed now. We both got Claymore on his feet, and I helped him onto the front of my bike, starting up the engine.
“Clubhouse.”
“We’ll be there. Hang in there, Claymore. We’ll getcha help,” I told him.
I heard him groan again before we were off. We left a few of those fuckers bleeding out on the concrete, and I knew some of them would probably muster up enough strength to make their escape, but I didn’t care. Right now, the only thing I needed to do was keep Claymore fucking kicking a little while longer until the doc could look at him. The ride felt ridiculously long, and Claymore was starting to slump backward, making it harder for me to keep my balance. I managed to pull into the clubhouse lot. Not long after, Tank and I glanced up to see Will, Wrench, and Archer rushing out to help.
They hauled Claymore off. Blood was crusting on the back of his neck, and he emitted soft moans of pain every time we moved him a little too fast. Will was gonna have his work cut out for him, but I knew the man always came prepared. I headed inside to see that Will was cleaning his wounds while everybody stood back, letting the man do his job. Tank looked over at me, placing his hand on my shoulder, and I glanced down to see that some of Claymore’s blood had soaked into my T-shirt. I was waiting for him to jump down my throat about what I did, but all the anger that was present in his expression before had slowly melted away.
“Will just said that if we got here any later, he could’ve been in real bad shape. He’s slipping in and out of consciousness now, and he lost a lot of blood, but he’s gonna be fine. Thanks for having my back out there, Ripper.”
“Yeah, of course. The fuck are we gonna do, Tank? The city’s practically crawling with these motherfuckers now. First me, now Claymore. How many of us do they have to fuck with before we strike back?”
“We can’t strike until we know what they’re up to, Ripper. Shit’s only gonna get more messy if we do anything before we know what the fuck’s really going on. Yeah, we could kill every last King we see, but Ray’s just gonna find replacements. If we want this to be over we have to cut off the damn head of the snake. That shit’s gonna take time.”
“Yeah, I guess it will.”
