Compass Call: Survival & Awakening (The Gatekeeper Book 3) (36 page)

“You got it, boss.”

Pete turned to find Corbin and Marcus closely examining the severed head of Blackbeard. “Corbin!” he yelled.

“Yes, sir.”

“Go to the garage and get the gardening tools, those for digging.” Corbin nodded and took off like a shot. “Marcus!”

“Yes sir?”

“Go inside and get me a garbage bag. I don’t want the ladies seeing this mess in the yard. Hurry!” Marcus ran inside and Pete reached
down and pried the machete out of the hand of Blackbeard’s severed limb. He tossed the long black blade onto the patio with the rest of the captured weapons and turned to his next problem, what to do with the prisoners and the motorcycles.

Pete was about to start searching the saddlebags when Marcus returned with a heavy black garbage bag. He handed it to Pete without a word. “Now go and help Corbin,” said Pete. The boy nodded and ran off. Pete grabbed Blackbeard’s head by the beard and dropped it in the garbage bag. “A fitting end for you, sir,” said Pete aloud, to no one in particular. He also added the arm to the bag, but he wasn’t quite sure what to do with it. Finally, he walked to the side of the house and dropped the bag behind a bush. The parts, he decided, would not be buried with the gang leader’s body.

The boys returned with two long handled shovels, one short handled shovel, and a pick. “Good work,” said Pete. “Now take them over to Paul so the prisoners can start digging graves. I’ll join you there in a minute.”

Pete searched the saddle bags and found six firebombs, as well as an assortment of drugs, liquor, weapons, ammunition, food and clothing. In Raul’s saddle bags, Pete found several stacks of cash, mostly twenties, but also a good amount of one-hundred and fifty dollar bills. In the old days the cash would have been worth something, but today Pete knew it was worthless. Still, he slipped the bills into his pocket and moved the rest of the loot up to the front porch.

Pete noticed a few neighbors watching them from down the street, but none seemed willing to approach. He stared at them coldly, and resisted an urge to yell, “Where were you guys when we needed you?” but he realized they really didn’t need their help. In fact, the neighbors helped by staying out of the way, so he ignored them and went to work.

Pete left the motorcycles standing in the road and walked over to join Paul’s operation in the vacant lot. Counting Raul’s headless, one-armed corpse, there were a total of eight dead bikers. Pete knew he shot all but two of the bikers, which meant, not counting
Paul’s handy work with the sword, that one of the bikers was killed by one of the boys from the alcove. He wasn’t sure who it was, but he would watch them closely to see how they handled such a huge moral responsibility.

When Pete joined them at the grave detail two shallow graves had already been dug, and two more were under construction. Paul had the prisoners place dead bikers in the first open graves after he had them remove their vests. Pete thought that was a good idea, and had all the bikers remove their vests. He had one of the boys collect them and put them in a pile by a tree.

Sometime during the work, Pete sent Corbin and Marcus to fetch water. While they were gone, Pete took the opportunity to talk to the remaining seven bikers. “Take a break, men, we’ve got some business to attend to,” said Pete. The seven men took a seat on the ground and looked up at Pete, while Paul and Adam took up position on either side of them. “Eight graves to dig. But the question is, should we make it seven more?” The bikers looked at each other. Some were alarmed, but others looked defiant and ready to fight. Pete made a mental note of who the defiant ones were, and he continued with his speech, “The way I see it, the smartest thing for us to do is shoot all of you . . . that way we wouldn’t have to worry about you causing any more trouble for us.”

“Look, man. I don’t know who you are, or what I’m even doing here. I wanted nothing to do with this, this attack on your house. I swear, if you let me go, you’ll never see me again,” said one of the bikers. He looked to be the youngest of the group, probably in his late twenties, and he clearly didn’t want to follow his dead comrades.

“Shut up, Billy. We’re all in this together,” said a rough looking biker with a gray and black goatee. His arms and neck were heavily tattooed, and he had three black tear-shaped tattoos falling from the corner of his right eye. The man stared at Pete with open contempt and barely contained fury.

Pete asked the man, “Are you the ranking member now?”

“I’m the only ranking member left,” said the man, and he spat at the ground near Pete’s feet.

Pete raised the barrel of his rifle, and without aiming, shot the man in the chest at point-blank range. There was no mistaking the fatality of the shot, for the man was thrown back and didn’t move. Blood began to pool on the hard dirt under the dead biker’s back, and his open and lifeless eyes stared blankly skyward. The other bikers moved away but remained on the ground. They stared up at Pete in shock and fear. “Are there any more leaders here?” he asked.

He was greeted with unanimous no’s and not-me’s from the six remaining bikers. “Good. Now you have one more grave to dig. And the sooner you dig, the sooner you’ll be released. But I have one last question for you, where’s my brother, John Anderson?”

The young biker held up his hand and Pete recognized him with one word, “Talk.”

“He’s at the roadhouse . . . tied to a chair. As far as I know he’s still there,” said the young biker as he glanced sidelong at the recently deceased biker.

“How many members of your group were guarding him?” asked Pete.

“Five, I think,” said the man.

“And what condition was he in when you left?” asked Pete.

“He was conscious.”

“Is that it?” asked Pete.

“Yeah. They brought him in that way . . . tied to the chair. Steve delivered him in his van.”

“Steve?” asked Pete. “Who’s Steve?”

“Don’t know. Someone who lives in your neighborhood I think . . . oh yeah, he’s Darrel’s cousin. He works for Marino. Do you know him? Marino? He lives in this neighborhood too,” said the excited young biker. He was clearly hoping to provide all the details he could in hopes of insuring his continued existence.

Pete heard the boys return and turned to see them carrying a plastic, five-gallon, water container and a short stack of disposable cups. Pete instructed the boys to hand out the water while he continued to question the bikers. “So Steve worked for Marino huh? What’s this Steve guy look like?” The man described Steve and Pete thought it sounded like the man John had a tussle with during yesterday’s neighborhood meeting. Things finally began to make sense for Pete, and he wondered where Steve was given his link to Tony. “Where is Steve?” asked Pete.

“The chief . . . Raul made him stay at the roadhouse.”

“Good. I’m looking forward to taking care of him,” replied Pete.

“Are you really going to let me go?”

“What?” Pete asked.

“Let me go? You said you’d let me go, right?” repeated the young biker.

Pete thought for a moment and said, “Dig the graves and bury the dead, and then we’ll talk your release,” said Pete. “But if you act up in any way I’ll shoot you myself. We’ve gone through too much to ignore you guys as a threat. I’ve dealt with your type before, just a few days ago in fact. The final outcome of that operation was . . . no prisoners taken. We killed them all. Like you, they were animals, finding and taking pleasure in hurting others,” finished Pete.

“We were bad before the disaster,” said another man.

Pete turned to the voice and inadvertently pointed his rifle at him. The man flinched, but didn’t shy away. His reply was not one of defiance, but rather of fact and observation. Pete snorted and said, “Yes, and that makes all the difference for me. You were trouble when times were right, and now you’re still trouble, only now there’s no one to stop you.”

The man looked down, picked up a small rock, and casually lobbed it into a half-dug grave at his feet. “You’re no different. You just shot Slider without a fair fight.”

Pete’s first reply was a grunt, followed by, “To the victor go the spoils. That was the agreed upon condition of this fight. Agreed upon
by your chief. Did you take orders from him?” When the man didn’t reply, Pete continued. “I believe I’m absolutely justified to end all of you for what you’ve done here today and yesterday. I don’t need to justify my actions to you and your type, but if the tables were turned, I’m sure I couldn’t expect mercy from you. Now could I?” The man refused to answer, and Pete yelled angrily, “Answer the question!”

The man looked up at Pete, and with an expressionless face said, “Nope. Probably not.”

“We’re nothing like you,” said Pete, as he regained his composure. “We didn’t come looking for a fight. You brought the fight to us.” Pete scanned the faces of the other bikers. “We’re not animals, but we’re not afraid to defend ourselves.” He looked at the young biker and said, “But to answer your question, my plan is to release you if you cooperate, so keep digging.” Pete turned to walk away and then he too spat on the ground by his feet.

Pete walked back to the motorcycles, his anger now acutely focused on Tony. After having survived a very real threat to their lives, he wasn’t happy to learn that he still had Steve and Tony to deal with. He wondered if the violence would ever end, but he knew the answer long before he asked the question. Fighting for survival was going to be a daily routine. As for Tony, Pete wanted very badly to charge over there and finish him, but he couldn’t leave Paul alone to handle the prisoners by himself. It wasn’t that he was worried Paul couldn’t handle them, it was about putting Adam in unnecessary danger. Adam had to stay safe. Pete owed John that.

He wondered if Tony would try to run when he learned the biker attack had failed, and that gave him an idea. For the next half hour, Pete rolled the motorcycles over and laid them across the road at the top of the rise leading into the neighborhood. It was hard work pushing the heavy bikes into position, but it felt good to be doing something physical. He absolutely refused to start the motors because it would serve as a homage to the bikers, and that’s something he didn’t want to hear.

The hard work helped Pete take his mind off wanting to hurt Tony, and he was satisfied to know that anyone wanting to leave the neighborhood would have to lift and move at least two of the heavy bikes out of the way. Pete knew Tony couldn’t do it alone, or at least do it quickly enough to avoid detection. The sixteen motorcycles ran from house to house across the road, and provided a suitable temporary vehicle barrier for anyone leaving or coming into the neighborhood on four wheels.

As Paul was stepping out to confront Blackbeard in the front yard of John’s house, the two bikers who were sent to retrieve John arrived at the roadhouse. Luanne heard their bikes arrive and held a pistol ready at the small of her back. She didn’t know what was going on, but she guessed they were coming back to take John away. She heard what Raul said, about how he was going to kill John in front of his family, and she swore to herself that she wasn’t going to let that happen. She had caused enough harm to John, and it was time to make amends.

When the sound of the motorcycles stopped outside the roadhouse, Luanne tried to rouse John from his unconscious state. He remained unresponsive, and it scared her a little. Thinking John was dead, she again felt for a pulse and relaxed. He was still alive, though breathing slowly and very shallowly, as if he was in a coma or something.

As he lay on the floor next to her, she kneeled over him and studied his face. She realized, for the first time since meeting John, that she loved him. And she knew that he loved her back. The love was a strange feeling, but it was one she couldn’t ignore. She knew she could never belong to someone like John, but still, her feelings for him were unusually strong, and it brought tears to her eyes. When she examined her feelings more closely, Luanne began to realize that her love was more like a sister for a brother. She never had a real brother, her two
foster brothers were crude and abusive, and she hated them. But now, she finally knew what it felt like to have a real brother, to feel the love such a relationship can bring.

The first biker walked in. It was Devon, and Luanne kind of liked him because he never hit or abused her like the other gang members did, especially when she lost Darrel. The entire gang blamed her for his death, as if it was her idea to attack that family. But everyone liked Darrel, though she never could figure out why. Darrel was a cruel and mean man, and like her foster brother’s, he abused her while telling her that he loved her.

Darrel was always there to kick a man when he was down. He hated weakness in people, and he never showed mercy. Anyone weaker than him deserved to be abused and used, which was just about everyone he met. She figured it was one of the reasons Raul liked Darrel enough to make him his second in command.

But of all the bikers, she hated Raul the most, because his cruelty had no end. News of Darrel’s death really set him off, and he punched Luanne in the face, knocking her unconscious. He then let the men have their way with her. Not everyone took advantage of Raul’s generosity, but enough did to hurt her very much. Devon was one of the men who didn’t take advantage of her, but he was still dangerous. When he saw the bodies on the floor he removed the shotgun from his shoulder and looked around confused. When his eyes fell on Luanne he snapped, “What the hell happened here, Luanne?”