Chance Taken

I hiccup and look at him, but he’s staring directly ahead through the windshield again, his eyes hard and fixed on a point in the dark distance. I know he’s telling me one of those secrets he told me I’d have to keep now. Just the tip of a secret, sure, but still. And I know he’s telling the truth.

“It’s just heavy,” he adds and looks at me. “So why carry it? The assholes who did it will all get their own soon.”

“How can you know?”

His face turns very serious and very hard, like a mask chiseled from stone. “Because I’ll make sure of it.”

The tone he’s using tells me he’s not going to answer any more of my questions, and that’s alright, I can figure them out on my own. He’s talking murder, and it scares me to realize I don’t mind it as much as I always thought I would. The monsters who hurt my sister don’t deserve to live.

I can hear what I can only describe as a helicopter landing, the sound growing louder and louder. But it’s not a helicopter, it’s the sound of four Harleys approaching, I realize as they roll into our street. They stop in front of the car we’re in, turning off their headlights, and just sitting there on their bikes, looking like menacing mounds of unworked rock in the darkness.

“My brothers,” Chance says. “They’re here to watch over you and your sister until we take care of the problem.”

He sounds just like those rock mounds might, like he’s chewing on stones, and I get yet another clear glimpse of the reality I’m facing now.

These bikers, these killers, are here to keep me safe? Keep my sister safe?

That’s so far out of what my life has been for the past five plus year, I can’t even grasp it fully. It’s exactly the mirror image of everything I’ve believed with all my heart for so long now—that all biker gangs are criminal lowlifes preying on the innocent.

“You should go in and be with your sister now,” Chance says in a softer voice that sounds nothing like how a monster would speak. It sounds like a friend would speak.

“How will I explain these men?” I ask. “This makes no sense. We have to go to the police.”

“No police,” he says in that rocks cracking voice. “They can’t do anything about this. They can’t keep you safe. Or get you the revenge you want.”

I know he’s stating a simple fact. I’m seeing it as clear as day. This is my life now.

But how do I just accept that?

“It’s the only way now, Veronica,” he says, as though he can read my mind. “If it makes you feel any better, what’s gonna happen would’ve even if we hadn’t gone to that truck stop tonight.”

“It makes me feel a little better,” I admit.

“Go in now and try to relax,” he says. “Break it to your family however you can, but do not mention any of us. We’ll protect you, but you need to keep it a secret. Can you do it?”

He sounds like he thinks I can’t. His eyes are full of doubt too.

But I nod.

“The wheels are already in motion,” I say, sounding calm and collected, exactly the opposite of how I actually feel. “I’ll keep it a secret.”

He nods, still looking doubtful. But he hands me the car keys. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow morning. We’ll know more then.”

I take the keys, my fingers brushing his for an instant that feels like an eternity… of calmness and bliss.

I have no idea what we’re rushing towards now, or what my life will be when it all stops again. And for someone who needs to have things figured out, who needs to be in control, it’s scary, unnerving, and unimaginable. But he sounds so sure. So convinced it will all be fine. I can lean into that. I can.

“OK,” I say and open my door. I slip out and he does the same on the other side of the car, closing his door gently so it hardly makes a sound. I try to copy him but end up slamming it too hard. The click as I lock it sounds like a gunshot in the night silence.

I look at none of the men gathered in the street, just walk as quietly as I can towards the gate that leads to the backyard of my parents’ house. I can feel the mounds of stone watching me very intently, but I ignore them. I can feel Chance watching me too. Somehow it’s a different feeling than the watchfulness coming from the rest. Warmer and more protective. More invested. Clearer.

My parents’ house is dark. They’re either out or asleep. Probably the latter. My sister is probably asleep too. I won’t wake her if that’s the case. I’ll just lie down next to her and go to sleep too.

I’ll just give her one more night, before her worst fear becomes reality again.

* * *

Chance