When we see a black Cadillac Escalade behind us I know we’ve company, and its company that could cause trouble. Pulling into a rest area a few miles further on, the Escalade then parks behind us.
Climbing out, I smirk when the door of the Escalade opens and none other than Graham, Tank, and Richie climb out. “Fuckers! Thought you were going to have all the fun. We know what’s happened, but we know Tizwald’s friends. You know, ones that need removal, and as soon as possible.”
“Okay. Do you know where we need to be because we are running along still wondering where we are going to find Art and the fucker Tizwald?” Sting snarls from where he’s come forward to stand next to me.
“Oh, yeah. Follow us boys,” Graham chimes and nearly skips back to the Escalade, fucking humming to himself.
Two hours later and I’m sick of seeing the back of the fucking Escalade. When are we going to see some action? The words are no sooner past my thoughts when the Escalade turns down a dirt track. Nearing the end of the track is an old house, past its time for being demolished.
Tank steps close and gives me a huge smile. “Your friend is inside. Just don’t tell him Meat has been tracking him on a device he’s put on the club's SUV.”
Grinning because Wings is the one who does all the gadgets and I can guaran-fuckin-tee Meat has used one of Wings’ toys. Rubbing my hands together, I walk into the derelict building and hear squealing coming from the basement. Opening the door from under the staircase, we all walk down, taking care as the fucking wooden stairs are cracking under our feet.
The basement covers the entire footprint of the house and has pillars as structural support. On one of the crossbeams is Art, strung up by his feet. Wings is covered in blood, and when I step closer, I can see Art has no fingers, toes, ears, nose, or dick. All have been cauterized by the soldering iron in Wings’ hand.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” Art is repeating like a mantra. He’s a pitiful human being, if you even want to call him that. He isn’t going to live long, and I hope he can go into death knowing he killed his sister.
“You know you killed her, don’t you?” I ask, keeping my voice low.
“I didn’t know they would do that. I didn’t mean for her to be murdered. I’m sorry,” Art blubbers.
“Well, you can tell her that when next you meet her,” I take out my Bowie knife and stab it into Art’s gut. I ignore all his screaming and run it along his stomach. I watch as his organs slowly start to fall out of the slash I’m making. His intestines, spleen, and even his stomach can be seen. I don’t give a fuck about his screaming. He is going to die and die now. I slashacross his throat and watch as he chokes and dies more quickly than he deserves.
“Fuck, Chaos, that was fuckin’ awesome. I’ll have to tell Nell about this—she’ll eat it up. You know she’s started writing horror books. She’ll be able to use this in one of her gruesome scenes.”
I look at Graham as though he’s lost his mind, but he is grinning like a fool. I look at Tank and he’s nodding in agreement, as is Richie. I give up. They are all raving fuckin’ lunatics.
Wings is grinning at them, then at me. Grabbing a bucket of water, Wings throws the fucker over me, removing the blood that has sprayed across me. I strip off because I don’t want any evidence on me. Fuck him, and his bucket of water!
Walking upstairs and out to the truck, I grab clean clothes and quickly dress. Take out the can of gas and step back inside and go to the basement. I hand the can to Graham who looks like he is about to burst, wanting to do something bad, and I haul my ass back to the truck, along with all my brothers.
Twenty minutes later we are driving away from the derelict building and heading to our next hit. The house is ablaze, removing all evidence of what happened and that anyone was even there. Wings now has Clay and Brag with him, and we have ourselves a convoy.
