Athena's Raid: Book Two Perdition MC (2 page)

She flipped through the mail, continuing to mutter to herself in between sips, wondering if she ought to get a cat instead, the dog might care what she had to say, but a cat sure wouldn’t. “Bill, junk, junk, bill, invitation to church…again. Apparently my soul still needs saving. Little do they know, that I’d be likely to burst into flames upon entering that sacred home of Cathol.” That made her almost giggle, until she came to a long envelope with her name on it, scrawled in a messy masculine hand, and her brow furrowed when she read the name at the return, “Raid Masters? I don’t know a Raid Masters. Weird.” But it was addressed to her, so she opened it, and nearly snorted her coffee when she started to read the black mess of words on the white paper.

Hey back, Athena.

It’s been a long damn time, and I’ve never written anyone a letter. You popped my cherry, and it was pretty damn good.

She barked out a laugh, and realized the soldier she didn’t know, had written her back. Holy shit.

Your idea about the last man standing platoon, isn’t bad. It’s not funny, but it’s good to have brothers, I miss mine. Don’t know why I just wrote that down, but whatever, this is my first time. It’s bound to be awkward and ugly. Don’t hold it against me, doin my best to make it good for you too, darlin.

I don’t know what to say to all that sappy girly shit, if I’m being honest, joining the Army wasn’t my choice. I got arrested at 20, and my choice was jail for seven years, or sign up for seven years. Laying in this hospital bed right now, I wish I’d picked jail. I think I’d prefer to have to fend off being raped every day, than people thinking I’m some kind of hero.

I’m not.

You shouldn’t tell strangers that you love them, you’ll wind up with a stalker.

Your uncle sounds like a bad ass mother fucker, and I definitely agree with him on his views of ‘help from above’. I read about Agent Orange today, had to sweet talk a nurse I’ve been purposefully grouchy to, into giving me a few hours on her iPad. She thinks I’m into her now, so I’m back to being grouchy, but it doesn’t seem to be having the same effect as before.

Ergo, I blame you.

That shit sounds nasty, but I’m not shocked that the government dumped that on their own troops. Be glad your uncle doesn’t talk about that part of his life, he’s doing you a favor.

I’m definitely in the hospital, and it looks like my term isn’t going to be up any time soon. And neither will I be walking out of here with family who want to hook me up with some hot woman who’ll give me a bunch of babies. Being mostly paralyzed from the hips down sort of makes that whole process impossible, but at least I’m not like the guy next door that’s either screaming and crying because of a traumatic brain injury, or sedated into a vegetative state. So I suppose that’s the positive side to my lot.

I don’t have family either, except for a bunch of guys I called brothers for a while, and I haven’t heard from them since my first tour.

What’s with the owl?
And what in the fuck is the perfume you put on that paper? Not even Nurse Earth Mama, can identify it, and it’s bugging the ever loving shit out of me. It’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever smelled, and before I was locked down here, I’d smelled some sexy shit. One good whiff, and for a little while I don’t smell death. I don’t smell the disgusting shit scent that permeates a hospital, or the damn cleaning solvents that are so strong it singes the hair off your nose. For a little while, I breathe free air again.

Tell me anything.

Raid.

P.S. I don’t deserve any thank yous, but that letter, I hope to god I can make you understand one day what it meant.

FOUR

There were six thousand, four hundred and twenty five holes in the ceiling tiles. Same as yesterday. Same as the day before that. He didn’t know why he kept counting them, because the number didn’t change any. “Got a package for you, handsome.” It was sick, how his entire body electrified with eagerness. “I slit the tape already, but I didn’t look inside.” He nodded to Shirley and took the box, wincing a little as he sat up and put the box in his lap.

It was one of those small post office boxes, and when he opened the flaps there was another box inside it, a purple one, made of a thicker weight of the same paper as the envelope sitting on top. It was one of those fancy damn things where the edges of the box sort of slid together in the center to make a four piece circle, that you had to pull apart easy to get it to open right. Athena had stamped another owl on the center of the circle, and he spent fucking forever picking at it to keep from breaking the wax seal.

He opened it, and the smell of heaven wafted out from inside. Candles. Four big fat ones, in glass cups, that permeated his senses with the scent that had tormented him over the last week. The first letter she’d sent him was sniffed clean of that perfume, and it had sent him into a whole nother realm of pissed off when he could no longer detect that subtle fragrance.

But now it came out in a nearly intoxicating whoosh, and he swore he felt a little lightheaded from the pleasure of it. There was even a lighter inside the box, surprise, purple. It made him smirk as he shook it, pulled out one of the thick candles and set it beside him on his tray table, flicking the lighter until a long spear of flame shot out and the wick caught a few seconds later. He watched it burn for a moment, wondering what the purplish pink flecks in the white wax were. He picked at the seal on her letter to him and unfolded the pages, eagerly eating up the words she’d written in her pretty scrawl.

Hey Raid, (cool name, story behind it?)

Yeah, it was really good for me. Surprisingly, you lasted long enough to get my attention. Up for round two?

He laughed so hard it fuckin hurt, and he seized with the pain for a second, but for the first time in a while, he didn’t care that it hurt.

I’m a sucker for awkward and ugly, because writing this now, I’m feeling pretty awkward myself. I think its bad manners to argue with someone in a hospital bed, so I won’t. I’ll just tell you how full of shit you are, leave it at that, and move on.

I’m curious why you almost went to jail, but you’re in no way expected to explain if you don’t want to.

As a woman, I think I’d prefer most anything than having to fend off being raped on a daily basis. But that’s me, and if I were in your shoes, I don’t know if I’d rethink that or not. I’m thinking not. And it wasn’t sappy, girly shit, it was sincere girly shit, which being a Jarhead, you ought to be bad ass enough to deal with it. So suck it up, likely before alls said and done, I’m going to throw more at you.

I’ll tell someone I love them if I want, and if I gain a stalker, I’m confident that I’m intelligent enough to not get caught and sent to jail for murder. I’m classified as ‘help from above’, because my bad ass mother fucking uncle, taught me some bad ass shit when I came to live with him. Shit he probably shouldn’t have taught an impressionable fourteen year old, but I think it was his only way to cope with having a girl in his space.

Sorry about the nurse deal, I’m sure if you’re enough of a pain in her ass, she’ll trade shifts with someone else. Or just stab you a few more times than necessary with a needle. If you really want her off your back, ask her how she gets her nose hair to grow so long. I dare you.

I don’t know what to say about your paralysis that won’t sound disingenuine, or patronizing, but if you really wanted babies someday, there are ways to make that happen, and it involves more nurses messin with your junk. So I guess the question would be, do you want kids bad enough to let some cute nurse whose needle happy to get near your junk?

I definitely agree that your situation, while serious, is better than being locked inside your mind and unable to escape the horrors playing over and over on repeat, and being drugged into a state where all you can do is lie there and see nothing but ugliness.

Again, you don’t have to tell me how it happened, I’m curious, in a non-weird kind of way. Regardless I’m still going to think you’re important and heroic, so deal with that too while you’re dealing with my girly shit.

The owl is called Bubo, and in Greek mythology was the Goddess Athena’s messenger bird. Sort of her spirit animal, I guess. My mom loved Greek mythology, and she used to get these horrible migraines in the weeks before I was born.

Athena was the daughter of Zeus, big kahuna of the Greek Gods. Out of the blue, Zeus started to have screaming headaches, and when one of the other gods split open his head to relieve the pain, out came Athena fully formed and in battle armor. I guess mom thought it was a good story, I think it’s whacked, but that’s why I got dubbed, Athena. I gave my mom splitting headaches.

I dig the owl, because part of my business is recycling paper and making custom specialty paper for stationary and whatever, things used to carry messages. The other part is herbal, earth mama junk that I’ll tell you about if you’re interested.

And that smell, which I hadn’t put on the paper on purpose, is Geranium flower and Rosewood oil. I was mixing up a batch of soap with that scent in it, at my house while I was writing to you. The geranium flower is uplifting, and it’s supposed to evoke a sense of peacefulness, while the rosewood is a multi-functional scent. It’s a natural anti-depressant, and it provides relief from joint pain. It’s antiseptic, but it’s also an aphrodisiac, and can help heal wounds.

I’m glad you like it, and those candles burn for 40 hours each, enough to get you through whenever you need a breath of free air. I’ll send more when you run out, and some other stuff because I can, and I want to. You’ll have to let me know if it helps any, aromatherapy isn’t for everyone, but things that smell nice certainly are.

It’s not my business, but I’m half tempted to write these so called ‘brothers’ of yours a nasty note, for not being with you.

Have good dreams,

Athena.

FIVE

She wrote back and forth with him for almost six months, and every letter just got better and better. He told her about his time with the Perdition MC, and how his own stupidity had gotten him landed in jail, beating up a drug dealer he’d seen forcing a teenage girl to trade sex for the drugs she’d wanted to buy. Beat him nearly to death, and he didn’t regret a second of it. Regret that he got caught, but not that he’d done it. Athena didn’t judge in her letter, if anything, it seemed to make her like him more. She’d sent him cookies with her letter after he’d told her about the beat down. Damn good ones. Lemon something ones that melted in his mouth and tasted like heaven. He hadn’t told her about how he’d gotten paralyzed, or how he’d gotten his road name, and she hadn’t pushed. He liked her sass, and her smart ass mouth, accused her of being a ginger, and he hadn’t heard back from her in two weeks.

The snail mail was both a blessing, and a god damn annoyance, because he didn’t have a phone to call her with, or a computer to email her anything, and while he could have used Shirley’s iPad to order himself a lap top or something, he honestly loved being able to save every single letter and sniff it like a dog when no one was watching. He had one of her candles burning at all times, especially at night, and his entire room smelled like geranium and fuckin rosewood. He was getting impatient, two weeks without a fuckin word, pissed off and surly the likes of which he hadn’t been in a long time, and when Shirley came in carrying a familiar purple envelope, he snatched it out of her hand before she could get a word out, and hunched over the damn thing, forcing himself to patiently pick the seal away from the paper without cracking it.

Shirley, for the first time since she’d come into his life, left him in peace and didn’t say a god damn thing.

He opened the letter, and a picture fell out into his lap. But unfortunately, while it was cute, it wasn’t of Athena. It was a picture of a grey and white pitbull, wearing a blue flowered shower cap, looking pathetic and cute while it held a blue rubber duck in its mouth. And a matching Chihuahua between its front paws, looking pissed as hell to be in a bathtub getting a bath. He couldn’t help but laugh, because the picture was hilarious.

Hey you,

Sorry for the silent treatment, I had some unfortunate drama that prevented me from doing shit for a while. But I can say now that I would definitely pick hospitalization over avoiding being raped in prison. Long story.

I got a dog, his name is Cruncher, and I got him because he looked fucking vicious. Clearly he’s defective, as I’m sure you can tell from the shower cap, and he suckered me into springing his girlfriend from the cell next door. I couldn’t help it, they make a great couple. Sadly, Rosita, is more vicious than Cruncher, and I’m now living in terror of this tiny bitch. She’s gotten jealous of the time Cruncher spends in bed with me, yelling at him day and night about never being home to share their dog bed in front of the fire, because he loves me more. I swear, I’d never intended to own a 70 pound pussy of a dog, but that face, it slays.

My uncle banished me to Lake Tahoe for the week, note the address change, and I suppose of all places to get banished to, his cabin on the lake isn’t too shabby. The dogs like playing in the water, but I like sitting outside on the deck at night, staring at the stars and listening to the water hissing over the beach. It’s a full moon tonight, and it’s yellow, making the reflection on the water look like gold. I get it now, why people write poems about places like this, and I’m not even going to bother to try, because I know I wouldn’t do it justice.