One Wild Ride (Lords of Mayhem 2)

Tears rolled down Evonne’s face.

“But you,” he said, pointing at Joey. “You are a killing blow to Juliette and the biker scum who think they run this city. Let me tell you, darling, they are in for a huge awakening. We make the rules now. By the time we’re done with them, they’ll be nothing. As we speak, a shit storm is coming down on them so hard, I wonder when they’ll realize you’re missing.”

She wanted to lash out at him, but she couldn’t move her legs to kick or make her mouth work to spit. She swayed, landing beside Evonne on the couch.

“That’s it, go to sleep for me, girls.”

Despite her best efforts to resist, she found herself doing exactly as he requested as she slipped into unconsciousness.

* * * * *

The first thing Joey registered when she came to was coldness and pain. Her head throbbed, and her skin felt like it had a layer of ice covering it. She moaned and forced her eyes open slowly. The light that came in through a small window made her cringe. Where am I? She moistened her lips and swallowed, breathing in fresh air. A musky dampness lay around her and reminded her of a cellar.

Her head finally stopped spinning and she opened her eyes once more. The pain in her eyes was manageable, so she took in her surroundings. She lay in the middle of the floor of a bare, gray room that made her think of prison or a mental asylum. Please let me wake up. Her stomach turned and she closed her eyes while swallowing. Bile rocketed up her throat. She turned her head and revisited her dinner. Her eyes watered, and she pushed herself into a sitting position, moving back from the foul-smelling puddle.

The door probably locked from the outside. It had a long, thin window. Jesus, maybe I am in an asylum. She took a deep breath and moved onto all fours. The world tilted slightly. Once she stabilized, she gained her feet, bracing her palms against her thighs as she wobbled slightly. Her teeth chattered and she wrapped her arms around her waist. Dressed for a night in, she wore a only pair of skinny jeans and a button-down white shirt.

Careful steps took her to the door. She pressed her ear to the smooth metal surface and listened. Nothing but silence greeted her. Curious, she peered out the window and spotted a hallway with corresponding doors just like hers. Where’s Evonne? She wanted to call out for her but feared alerting Levi. Neglected and aged, the faded white walls were covered in grime and graffiti. Familiar with the history of her town, she guessed this was the old Northway Asylum. The rundown hospital had been closed when the truth about the horrible treatment and hidden deaths was revealed. Many people thought the souls of those neglected patients still wandered the hallways at night. A chill went up her spine.

On the outskirts of town, it had been the place kids dared each other to go in high school. But why am I here? Wait—their plans had gone wrong. She could vaguely recall her kidnapper yelling at someone. Did he dump me here to get me out of the way, or was this part of the scheme? Mental images of sterilized instruments from every horror movie she’d ever witnessed swam to the forefront of her mind. Oh my God, what is he doing to Evonne right now? Her heart raced. He’d sounded obsessed with her at the house. Surely he wouldn’t hurt her.

I have to stay calm so I can find her. No one knows what happened to us. I have to keep it together, or I’ll be another ghost wandering around this place. Think, what would the Doctor do? He’d have a sonic screwdriver for one. Rambling to herself helped to keep her from panicking.

Joey wrapped her hand around the door and turned the metal knob. Locked. Terror set in as she jiggled the handle. Looking around the room, she saw nothing more than a rotted mattress, decayed down to the rusty bedsprings. It was like an episode of a cop show. Only she was the victim and there were no leads. As far as everyone else knew, she’d just vanished from her home. She peered at the center pane in the door. This place was made in the ’eighties. It might still be regular glass.

Eager to escape the small cell, she removed her shirt, ignoring the numbing cold as she wrapped her elbow. On three… One, two, three! She drove her wrapped limb forward with all her might and cried out when it hit the pane of glass. The crack encouraged her and she remained a human battering ram until the glass gave way. Her chest heaved, and adrenaline surged thorough her body.

Terrified her kidnapper was close by, she shook out her shirt, wrapped it around her hand and cleared the square of jagged edges. Desperate to gain the extra five inches necessary to stick her arm out and reach the doorknob she jogged toward the bed and prayed it would hold her. The metal scraped along the floor. The high-pitched tone stabbed at her eardrums.

She pushed the rickety contraption flush against the door, made the sign of the cross over her chest and climbed on, sticking her arm through the window. The frail frame collapsed after a few seconds, but the top lock had already given. The sharp edges of the bed dug into her pants, and she struggled to free herself, feeling as if she had fallen into marshmallows littered with rusty razor blades.

Free of the tiny nicking menaces, he stumbled over the edge of the bedframe and brushed her hands over the legs of her pants, trying hard not to think of what residue clung to the mattress. She waved her shirt once last time in the air and slipped it on over her head. Her heart pounded in her chest as she moved the bed once more and opened the door.

A sense of foreboding washed over her. This place had seen so much misery and pain. Sorrow and despair clung to the walls. She padded across the floor in bare feet, scanning her surroundings. Half expecting someone to pop out at any moment, she hugged the wall on the far right. Her nerves frayed a bit more with every foot of space she covered. Hallways intersected like a crazy highway and she had no clue which would lead her where.

On instinct, she turned left, and prayed for the best. Anything was better than remaining in the cell, knowing if the others didn’t figure this out she would starve to death. Even if she could find her way out, there was no one around on this land for miles. At least inside, she had some shelter from the elements.

* * * * *

“You ready for tonight?” Shooter asked.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” Moose replied as he leaned back in his chair. The Lords of Mayhem were all gathered in the club waiting to head out to collect information from a source who claimed to have inside information about Room 801. Neither naïve nor stupid, they assumed the informant was a plant, bait to get Mayhem to walk blindly into a trap. For that reason they were traveling by the shit ton, with the Eights in the wings ready to ride in and

provide backup. They’d agreed to an abandoned warehouse a half-hour away in the middle of nowhere between this town and the next.

Shooter shrugged. “I don’t like any of this. It feels bad. Even knowing the Eights have our backs, I want to call the whole thing off.” He said.

“Any particular reason or just your sixth sense?” Moose asked. He’d learned to listen to his Shooter’s gut. It hadn’t led them astray yet.

“Other than the informant’s shady-ass behavior…it’s a gnawing feeling in the pit of my stomach, man.” Shooter shook his head. “This is going to go sideways on us fast.”

Moose frowned. “What did Tiny say?”

“Better to get the drop on them and squash it now than be caught by surprise and ambushed,” Shooter said.

“He has us all wearing vests at least,” Moose said. He patted the Kevlar beneath his long-sleeved black thermal shirt.

“I know, but I like to avoid gunfire when possible. You never know what someone else is packing or where their men are positioned,” Shooter said, looking around.