Precarious(68)

Oh God. I leap up, charging him. His fist flies out and hits me so hard I see stars as my body falls back onto the ground. Blood, hot and thick, runs down my cheek as I try to gather my bearings. I hear Claire cry out, and I know I have to think fast. My head spins as I pat the ground around me, trying to find a weapon.

The biker lunges towards me before I have the chance to get my hands on anything useful. I roll quickly, but his boot connects with my ribs, sending a blinding pain through my body. I cry out, my voice hoarse and broken. I try to scurry forward, but he takes hold of my ankle, dragging me through the dirt.

“You ain’t goin’ any-fuckin’-where, you little slut,” the biker roars, lifting me effortlessly and bringing my face to his. “Howard is going to have a fantastic time with you.”

He raises his fist and hits me so hard I feel my neck crack as my head swings to the side. Agonized screams leave my throat as he drops my body to the floor and spins towards Claire, who is staring at him, her body trembling.

“R-r-r-run,” I croak.

He moves towards her and my hands frantically go around again to find a weapon. There has to be something here. Through my pain and blurred vision, I find an old piece of wood. It’s heavy and solid. It’ll do.

I turn to see the biker dragging a struggling Claire towards the house. The idiot thinks I won’t run, he’s sure he has hurt me enough. He nearly did. I stand; not thinking twice, and I rush towards him – ignoring the agonizing pain in my body. He starts to turn as I swing the wood. I hit him so hard he goes down with a thump. Blood pours from his temple and I don’t stop to see if he’s alive.

“We have to run!”

My head pounds, my ribs burn and my vision blurs as we dart into the thick trees. Blood fills my mouth and soaks everything it touches. He must have split my cheek. Claire keeps up with me, even though she looks and no doubt feels, awful. When we’re far enough into the darkness, I pull out my cell.

S – We’re out.

I wait a minute or two, and then I hear the rumble of Harley Davidsons as the Jokers’ take off. I breathe a sigh of relief. No one got hurt. My phone flashes a moment later.

M – Where r u?

S – In the trees behind the clubhouse. I think I know where the road is. Get out of sight. We will be there soon.

Just then, the sounds of shouting and gunfire erupt from the clubhouse. Doors slam, and then torchlight flashes through the trees. Shit. Shit. Shit.

“We have to run, fast,” I say to Claire.

I know the general direction of the road, and I run hard and fast. The sound of boots crunching comes closer, and occasionally a flash of light comes too close to us. They’re still far enough away that we have a good start, but close enough that I’m starting to get worried. I see car headlights and realize the road is close.

“Come on,” I urge, pulling Claire harder.

We run towards the road, frantic, our bodies no doubt feeling much the same. My heart is pounding, my mind is spinning, and my legs ache like they’ve never ached before. Fear has lodged itself in my spine, and I know it won’t leave until I’m safe.

We reach the road just as a gunshot sounds out, zooming past my head. Shit, they’re close. I run out onto the gravel, knowing we’re in full view and it’s dangerous. As if some god listened to my prayers, I see Maddox and the club over the other side, their bikes off, silence filling the air.

The moment they see us, the bikes roar to life. I run towards Krypt, shoving Claire at him. Another gunshot sounds out, hitting the tree and ricocheting off to hit Rhyder’s bike with a loud ping.

“Fuck!” Krypt barks. “We gotta move.” He pulls Claire onto the back of his bike. Maddox is right beside him, his eyes trained on my face, anger evident in his expression.

I don’t stop to give him time to think about my injury. I leap on the back of his bike. He’s moving even before my arms are secured around his waist. The bike is tearing down the road at speeds that freak me out, considering I’m not wearing a helmet and I’m already injured.

I pray that we don’t have an accident, but I also know we can’t stop until we’re far enough away. I reach down, fumbling for the helmet. It won’t be easy to put on, but being without it is making me uneasy. I unhook it off Maddox’s bike and shove it over my head, one handed. I push it down, some of my hair going over my eyes.

It’ll do.

The roaring of bikes in the distance tells us that the Tinmen aren’t going to just sit down and wallow over their stupidity. Maddox speeds up, sliding around corners like a speed demon. I hold onto him, my fingers straining in his jacket as he flies down the long stretch of road. The clubhouse is about twenty to thirty minutes away.