Chance Taken

19

Chance

So far, we’ve hit the strip joint where Hunter almost died and checked an apartment they keep above a used car parts store at the edge of town. Both were empty.

The streets are empty too and the roaring of our bikes has long since stopped sounding like thunder and death coming for the Riders.

If they took Veronica to get back at me, they’d call to make their demands by now. Wouldn’t they?

I keep glancing at my phone, which should be off on this stealth mission. But I can’t miss a call from Veronica and it’s dead silent and dark anyway.

We took the time to burn the strip joint down since the store room behind the bar was so helpfully stocked with a shelf of full gas cans. It felt good to watch it burn. For Hunter. He’s on the mend, but far from there yet. We might never get him back the way he was. That is still a real possibility.

We’re heading towards one of the nastier whorehouses the Riders run deep in the woods across town from Sanctuary. It’s a real sick place, and bad shit happens there, according to Hawk. I want to find Veronica, but I’m hoping she won’t be there at this place, which makes no sense.

Hawk’s been feeding us info on where to try next in curt phone calls to Tank during which he never fails to remind us that what we’re doing is idiotic and we should get back to safety. Live to fight another day. That kind of thing. I’m not listening and thankfully neither is my father. Yet.

We left the bikes hidden in the trees about a half a mile back and are now making our way towards said whorehouse in near perfect darkness. The good thing about walking in the dark is that you get used to seeing well in it. So I can see the tall wall surrounding the place we’re trying to reach clearly through the trees. I can also see the top of it because the sky is lighter there. It’s too high to scale. And probably too thin to hold the weight of a man trying to.

I know all this before we reach it, walking as silently as we can, which is damn hard because the ground is rutted and overgrown with the thick roots of the trees all around us and covered by a blanket of needles about a foot deep that creaks and groans and always gives way at precisely the wrong time.

But as soon as we reach the wall, complete silence once again falls. Utter nighttime in the woods kinds of silence.

Tank signals Ace and two others to make their way around and to the left, while motioning me to go with him towards the gate that opens onto the dirt road that we’ve been following to get here.

I reach the gate first. It’s wide enough for a big-rig to pass through, the two sides held together by a chain as thick as my forearm. But one side of the gate is hanging crooked, leaving a plenty large enough gap for a man to pass through.

Nothing is moving on the inside. No lights are on either and the only sound is the one we’re making.

I signal to my father that I’m going in.

“No,” he hisses, his eyes wide, the force of his command slapping me with almost a physical force.

“There’s no one in there,” I snap. “I’ll just check real quick to make sure.”

He grabs my arm and yanks me back, pulling me all the way back into the shadows of the trees bordering the dirt road. If there was no need for stealth and quietness, he’d let me have it right now. But because there is a need for those things, he just hisses, “We don’t get reckless.”

I heard that a million times already. It’s sound advice. Sure. But time is running out.

My phone starts buzzing, preventing me from saying that as I hastily reach for it to silence it. But not before I glance at the screen.

Veronica is the name flashing on the screen, in all caps with two exclamation points at the end, because that’s how I saved it, to remind myself she’s probably gonna yell at me for something or other when I pick up.

“Where are you?” I ask as I pick up, barely remembering to keep my voice low.

“She’s here with me,” Gazz says. His voice has that screechy quality that’s hard to forget in a man.

What he said takes my air.

“Come and get her, Chance,” he goes on. “But hurry. I won’t wait long.”

“Where?” I ask and my voice is plenty choked up enough to suggest I care.

“In a container, near the truck stop, near the Interstate,” he says and his voice cracks. “Near our clubhouse that you destroyed tonight.”

He sounds like he’s about to start crying good.

“Come and I’ll let you exchange your life for hers,” he says. “Come alone.”