Page 28 of Size Queen
10
Damon
Iwake early on Sunday morning expecting to see Noelle. At first, I think maybe she’s hiding under the covers on her side. Upon closer inspection of the bed in my half-tired state, I realize that Noelle is gone. On the one hand, I am somewhat relieved that she’s left and spared me the pain of having to go through any hard talks with her about the road ahead of me…
On the other hand, I’m disappointed with myself for not simply telling her how I feel. Admittedly, even as I lie in bed recalling the events of the day and night before, I’m still not entirely sure about precisely how I feel about her. I care deeply about her, that much I know, and have known for a while.
I skip breakfast and a shower and go straight to the clubhouse, where the whole gang is gearing up to take action against Tom Wright and his Hell-Snakes. We have our weapons prepared, our supplies suitably packed, and our blood boiling.
Not only did Tom Wright lie to my face before, his boys were showing up more often around my part of town and even close to my shop. I take it not just as an insult, but a challenge. Tom doesn’t want me to come back to his place alone. He wants me to bring company so he’ll feel less guilty about trying to kill me.
We drive our bikes with purpose and grit. I look at all of my gang—my friends—and I know that I cannot fail them. I make a vow right then and there that I will not lose a single man to Tom Wright or his cronies. We are going to protect our territory, clear out the pests, and return to running the streets of Miami with an iron rule.
“We might need to remind Miami why we’re called the Rolling Heads,” I say to Kace at one point. “I’m tired of the blatant disrespect. Enough is enough.”
The roads are practically empty. Saturday night has yet to fully leave Miami, and the elderly are heading to church. The collective growls and roars that emit from our beasts as we bound forward are surely warning the Hell-Snakes. I can just see them waking from a drunken stupor to hear our bikes, ill-prepared for our arrival.
As we pulled in to the Hell-Snake clubhouse, we are all wary to discover that there are only three motorcycles in the parking lot. We were anticipating and expecting a nearly full house, so it’s jarring.
We park our bikes in their spots, dismounting with our weapons visible and within arm’s reach. I lead the group inside, ready for a fight…
However, there’s another surprise: there’s no one there, on the first floor anyway. I signal for Kace and two others to go inspect upstairs. The rest of us look around, quietly scanning curiously.
This isn’t right.
I try to envision a scenario when my entire gang would be vacated from our shop or clubhouse. It occurs to me that my clubhouse and shop are vacated at this very precise moment. I think to myself that it would have been ironic if they were all on their way to start a fight atourclubhouse.
I look up and see Kace coming back down the stairs.
“No one,” said Kace shaking his head.
“This doesn’t make sense,” I said irately. “Where the hell are they?”
Suddenly, over by the bar area, a fire erupts, the flames bursting up immediately due to all the liquor set on the shelves. Nearly a quarter of the place is ablaze, and we stare, transfixed, unsure of what or who did this.
“Everyone out!” I shout after snapping out of it. “Take the nearest exit!”
The fire is spreading so quickly that it’s overwhelming. The side exit near the stairs is locked, and a powerful flame is fast approaching. We all run for the main entrance.
Through the blaze, demons emerge and begin to fight. Gunfire zips through the fire, aiming to hit me and my crew. We aimlessly fire back, shooting our guns through the flames, hoping to hit one of those sons of bitches. It’s impossible to know for certain who’s attacking whom.
Zeke, my most recent recruit, falls to the ground beside Kace. I look and see that he’s taken a bullet to the shoulder. There is blood pouring from his wound, but I’m grateful that he will live.
Kace and I stand over Zeke while the others help pick him up and carry him out. The Rolling Heads continue exchanging gunfire with the Hell-Snakes. In the hellfire, I’m unable to discern the specific shooters’ identities, but it’s undoubtedly them. Specific names are irrelevant.
Once we’re all out, the attackers are nowhere to be found. The clubhouse burns fast, dismantling every bit of foundation that kept the building together. We stand by watching it crumble…
…until we’re all suddenly aware of something else—my bike has been completely obliterated. No one else’s has been touched.
“Scatter,” I order the group. “We all meet back at the clubhouse in two hours.”
Kaceand I get to work fixing my bike right away. We go to his private garage right off the coast so that we can work on it in peace. I need a real distraction in order to keep me from hunting down and killing every Hell-Snake personally.
“Any word on Zeke?” I ask Kace.
“They’re stitching up his shoulder now,” he tells me. “Eddie also got some really bad burns; he’ll probably be out of commission for a while.”
“I can’t believe they burned down their own clubhouse,” I say in disbelief.