Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 78534 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 393(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78534 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 393(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
Ghost helps me awkwardly mount up behind Tex on his motorcycle. I give Anne a weak smile and wrap my arms around his waist. It leaves me no choice but to lean into his wide back and hold on tight. Riot holds Anne in front of him on his bike, cradling her to his chest. She looks so small, gripping his forearm for dear life.
When the engine starts, I let out a startled yelp. I’m not used to this kind of close contact, especially not with men like this, and the steady rumble of the motorcycle is… confusing. It feels good in a way I’m not sure I should feel good right now.
“What did he mean by ‘this place is dust’?” I ask Tex.
He laughs. “You’ll see.”
We ride out of the ruined gate, and as soon as we are on the road, Tex floors it. Dark asphalt zooms by underneath, so fast and close it’s scary. I’m used to being protected inside a car, and right now the only thing keeping me safe on the bike is my grip around Tex’s chest, and my thighs clutching the outside of his. If I’m holding too tight, he’s not giving any sign of it, and as the minutes pass, I relax in spite of myself.
At least until a massive blast cuts through the night, so powerful I can feel the gust of air as it blows by us, even this far away. I twist to look, my grip on Tex tightening again. Smoke billows up from the direction of Victor’s beach house. A second explosion sends sparks and more smoke soaring over the trees.
Holy crap! I didn’t think the dust thing was going to be literal.
As the miles pass, I finally resettle enough to observe a little. My life depends on keeping a clear head. The bikes flow along the road like a flock, moving and adjusting to each other in ways that are mysterious to me, but the riders seem to understand instinctually. Riot is off to our left side with Anne, and Ghost is ahead of us, the club logo clear on the back of his jacket, with Outlaw Sons in big letters underneath. It’s almost like a pirate flag, with a masked skull and something that looks like maybe engine parts crossed behind it?
We ride under an overpass. The rumble of the bikes echoes and multiples until it’s almost a physical pressure. A growling wave that threatens to pull me under.
Am I riding to freedom? Or death?
Eventually we pull off the highway into a section of the city I’ve never seen. I was never allowed to drive or go out on my own, so all I really know are Victor’s estates and a vague memory of the suburban neighborhood where I grew up. I can smell the salty tang of the ocean on the wind but I don’t see the water.
We drive down a four lane street, lined with houses that look small and packed together, then past shabby looking strips of stores and businesses. I almost feel like I’m in a movie even though I know this is probably normal and I’m the one with the messed up version of what that means.
Up ahead, a street light turns red, but the group doesn’t even slow down. It’s late, and there aren’t many other cars out. The few that are, wisely choose to wait for the bikers to pass through. To the right, spotlights illuminate a walled compound. On the side of the wall is a massive lit sign with their logo that says Outlaw Sons MC, and over the top of the wall I can see the roofs of several houses and what looks like…
Is that a church?
It seems impossible, but it is. A guarded double gate swings open into a courtyard in the center of the buildings, and sure enough, off to the side is an old brick church with a high tower. There are lights on inside, shining out through colorful stained glass windows. When we ride through the gate, it feels like entering a whole new world. A town within a town.
We ride right up to the front steps of a long, rectangular building. Offices maybe? No, a school. I can see windows evenly spaced down the side where classrooms probably used to be, but now a lot of them are covered up. Once I realize what I’m looking at, the layout makes more sense. I went to Catholic school a lifetime ago before Victor took me, and this reminds me of it. A church with a school, and houses for the priests and nuns. Strange to think that one day the bell rang for the last time, and the roar of motorcycles moved in.
We pull up behind Ghost, who swings his leg over his bike and before I even get a chance to wonder how I’m supposed to dismount, he eases my grip on Tex’s chest, puts his big hands around my waist and lifts me right off, like I don't weigh a thing. My legs feel like rubber and I have to grab Ghost to keep from falling after he sets me down.