On Broken Wings (3 page)

"No, help yourself." She watched him make himself comfortable.

"Thank you. It seems a pity to waste the sun...are you sure it's all right? You look very nervous."

"No, it's okay, I'm just new here."

He smiled, but he was at least as nervous as she, and couldn't hide it. "Most of us are. What happened to you?"

His directness was so disarming that she found herself answering before her inner censor could stop her. "Motorcycle accident."

He nodded.

"What about you?"

He shrugged. "They're following up on some tests." Something in his expression persuaded her not to press the matter. He turned his face to the sun, closed his eyes, and assumed a relaxed slump like her own. Several minutes passed in silence.

"What's your name?"

He opened his eyes and turned toward her, apparently surprised by the sally. "Louis. What's yours?"

"Christine. It's nice to meet you, Louis."

The sound of a crash came from the corridor beyond. Her heart leaped and her head whipped toward the door to scan for approaching danger.

No one entered the lounge. From the sounds of shuffling and metallic scraping outside, an orderly had probably dropped a pile of bedpans.

She turned back to Louis and found his eyes riveted to her. He was examining her with an intensity that made her anxiety strain against its bonds. What he was learning she could not guess. Yet his friendly expression had not changed.

Stay calm, Christine.

"Christine, are you all right?"

The weight of his gaze and the totality of his concentration upon her made his question more than rhetorical. He really wanted to know, perhaps in detail. The realization caused her fears to spike upwards. The Nag yammered in a distant corner of her skull, heard but unheeded.

"No...no."

"Are you afraid of something? Did someone do this to you?"

"No, I was in an accident."

"But you're afraid."

"Yes."

"But not because of your wounds." It was not a question.

"No."

"Can you tell me about it?"

Her fear had risen to a suffocating intensity. It took all her strength to draw a breath.

"I don't know, I'm sorry, it's not your problem, I shouldn't have said anything, forgive me." She started to turn away.

"Christine."
The command in his voice pulled her eyes back to his. His intensity was undiminished.

"Do you need some time to be alone?"

"I don't know...maybe, yes."

"I can meet you here later if you like."

"NO!" Several nearby heads turned toward them, gazes lingering before they turned away. "I mean, I'm okay."

"I don't think so, but you're the judge. Is there anything at all you can think of right now that I could help with?"

"No, thank you, it's okay. Please, I mean it, really, just stop looking at me that way!"

His mouth fell halfway open. "I'm sorry." He rose and turned to go.

"Louis." She could manage no more than a whisper.

At once his laser-like focus was upon her again. "Yes?"

"Thank you. Maybe I'll see you later." It had to be forced past the steel bands around her chest.

Another gentle smile. "Perhaps. Take care." He left.

Two minutes later she was back in her room, wondering when the courage to leave it would return.

***

"Which one's next?" Hans sprawled across Tiny's dirty sofa at his ease.

Rollo stood at Tiny's desk. He ran a callused finger down the page of hospital and clinic names. Every general health care institution in the county was listed there. There were fifteen in all. "Onteora General."

Tiny grunted and continued to stare out his window, most of his thoughts elsewhere. They had been to twelve hospitals over the past three days. None had had special facilities for accident victims. None had admitted to having a patient who'd been in a cycle smackup. None had admitted to having a patient without identification or cash. Tiny was confident of his findings. He had not relied on charm.

"Where is it?"

Rollo peered at the fine Yellow Pages print. "Overton Drive." He transferred his attention to a tattered atlas of Onteora County. "Hey, boss, that's just off two-thirty-one!"

Tiny took notice at that. "Where we lost Tex."

Hans sat up straight. "Yup! Do we ride?"

The Butcher chieftain turned from his window and strode to the rusty coat tree by the outside door. "You're Goddamned right we ride." He pulled his jacket around him and zipped it with a quick jerk, heedless of obstructions and broken zipper teeth. "Roust the others."

Hans jerked himself upright and charged into the main barracks area.

As the door to Tiny's quarters swung closed, Rollo cleared his throat. "What about the rookie? You gonna leave him here?"

Tiny turned and saw concern on Rollo's face. "He hasn't been initiated yet."

His second-in-command scowled. "But you're gonna, right?"

"No shortcuts, Rollo. We've got a procedure. He isn't a Butcher yet."

"Boss -- !"

The biker lord stared hard into his lieutenant's eyes. Rollo didn't flinch. "Get him in here."

Rollo headed out the back door. He returned seconds later with his new prize.

Tiny appraised the young biker from head to toe. He looked good: young, maybe twenty-five. Almost as tall as Tiny himself, lean but well-muscled and tough looking, with an easy confidence in his eyes and bearing that was unaffected by the surprise interview with his commander-to-be. The way he cradled his helmet in the crook of his arm suggested a military background. The only discordant note was the luxuriant head of shoulder length red-brown hair.

"What do you call yourself, rookie?"

"Rusty."

"You serious about us, boy?"

The young biker nodded. "Yes, sir."

Tiny waved at Rollo, who'd remained by the door.

"We're about to go on a hit. Rollo thinks we ought to bring you along, show you what the work is like before we initiate you. You like the sound of that?"

Rusty nodded again. "Yes, sir."

Tiny strode forward, putting his face within inches of the young man's. "Well, remember this, Rusty: this is my outfit. Butchers do as I say, when I say it. And you'll be the same. If I haul you out of bed at three in the morning and tell you to paint the ceiling, you'll up and do it then and there, even if you're in the middle of a fuck. Make me wait one second or give me one word of backtalk and you'll be the sorriest little turd that's ever been shit. Think you can remember all that, rookie?"

Rusty's expression stayed neutral, but Tiny could see a current of decision pass behind his eyes. "Yes, sir."

Tiny studied the young man's face a moment more, then nodded. "Good. Stick with Rollo. He'll keep you in line when I'm busy. Now saddle up."

Hans returned, saw the little tableau, and turned a hostile glare on Rollo. Rollo mustered his nastiest grin.

"What's he doing here, Rollo?"

Rollo shrugged. "We're gonna bring him."

Hans's head whipped toward Tiny. "Boss -- !"

"Shut up, Hans. We ride."

The other Butchers had assembled outside the barracks and had mounted up. The thrumming engine sounds sank near to silence when Tiny raised his voice to address them.

"This could be it, guys. It's just off two-thirty-one, real close to where Tex bought it. You remember the drill. Nobody say a word, I'll take care of that. Just make max noise pulling in and try to look your best."

He raised an arm, then swept it down. The engines roared in unison. Gravel sprayed in all directions as the twenty-four cycles and their riders set out on their quest once again.

***

Louis had seated himself in his truck and started the engine before he froze in place. He fought down his vertigo and nausea to make room for thought.

She was scared as hell of something. Every indication said she was a fugitive. Young, generally healthy, facial bandages, no problem walking. Abusive boyfriend, maybe?

His reverie was penetrated by the distant sound of motorcycle engines. They seemed to be approaching.

A motorcycle accident that tore up her face?

Why are you just sitting here, idiot? Move!

He killed the engine, leaped out, and sprinted for the main entrance. The receptionist looked up in surprise as he burst through the tall glass doors.

"What's the matter, sir, do you have -- "

He cut her off. "Check your records. Young white female patient, heavy facial wounds, recent treatment, came here with the police.
What name and room number?
"

His tone of command was so powerful that she complied without objection. "Room 305, Christine D'Alessandro. But sir, visiting hours are -- "

"
I know.
" She fell silent at once as he sprinted for the stairs. From the parking lot, the sound of unmuffled motorcycle engines was rising.

***

Christine could hear the cycle engines too. Tiny was no fool. He had figured out what had happened and where to look for her, and now the jig was up. Her muscles knotted in fear and frustration.

The door to her room swung open. She had not expected it so soon, but it hardly mattered. Her attempt at escape had failed. The only refuge left to seek was death, and she doubted that she would be allowed the means or opportunity.

She turned toward the door and gaped in surprise at the young man from the lounge.

"What! Who --"

"Never mind that. How close is he?"

She stammered, "Who?"

He waved in exasperation. "The guy you're afraid of."

She drew a quick breath and gasped it out. "Very close. Parking lot."

He yanked open the closet, extracted a terry robe and made her don it. "Any personal possessions you can't bear to lose? I mean, as important as your life?"

She shook her head, and he smiled in a way that blended anxiety and satisfaction.

"Good. Let's go." He reached toward her, and without thinking she shied back. He seized her hand, turned and pulled her out of her room and down the corridor. She was unable to resist him despite her own considerable strength, and was hard pressed to match his pace in her hospital slippers.

They descended the two flights of stairs to the lobby, encountering no one. The nurse-receptionist wore an expression of disorientation. They stopped.

"Miss D'Alessandro has to go. Give her thanks and regrets to the medical staff. I'll be back tomorrow to settle up for her.
Tell no one.
"

The receptionist nodded, eyes glazed. Louis tugged on Christine's hand. The two of them exited and began to trot around the building toward the parking lot.

A screen of poplars shielded the walkway toward the main entrance from a direct view of the parking lot. When they came to the end of the trees, Christine stopped and planted herself rigidly. Louis noticed and ceased to tug at her arm.

The Butchers were massed at the far end. They had arrived in full battle strength. Most were still astride their cycles. A few had dismounted and were swaggering toward the entranceway. Tiny was recognizable at their head. Christine began to shake.

"Christine, is it one of them?"

"It's all of them."

"Is there any possibility that they won't recognize you?"

"I don't know."

He pulled the collar of her robe up high. "Crouch down. Try to walk like an old woman with a stoop. Look down at the pavement and try to stay shorter than I am. Can you do that?
Look at me, Christine.
Can you do that?"

Breath coming ever more quickly, she nodded again.

"Good. Start now. Let me lead you. And not a word, no matter what happens."

She dropped into a stoop and tried to shuffle the way she had seen older patients do. Louis led her slowly across the parking lot, toward a blue pickup truck in an otherwise unoccupied section. No one approached them. She was desperate to look back, to assure herself that the Butchers were moving toward the hospital entrance and away from her, but Louis's command rang in her head.

He bundled her into the passenger seat of the truck, slammed the door and raced around to the driver's side. Five seconds later the truck was in motion. She began to straighten and turn back toward the hospital entrance, but he reached over and shoved her head back down.

"Not until we're clear, damn it! Do you want me to have to fight all of them?"

She resumed her crouch, and the truck picked up speed. Ninety seconds later they were on the highway and barreling eastward at seventy miles an hour. She straightened again, and this time he made no objection.

A few minutes later they pulled into the driveway of a modest two-story brick house on a road that was otherwise undeveloped. He helped her out of the truck and led her inside.