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However, when I fight, my bullshit falls away until I’m a berserker with no concept of fear or pain.
The ranch hands are a big, rough bunch. Not a pussy in the group. They meet our blows with their own. I haven’t been in such a fun brawl since my twenties.
Every punch they get in, only amps up my berserker mode. I can’t see past this moment. Irina and her soft smile are lost in the old part of me.
All I want right now is to light a match and laugh as the world burns.
Nearby, Nomad crashes into men, taking down two at a time. Our arrival awakens something nasty in Walla Walla who slams a guy down on my hog and likely destroys the asshole’s spine. Smokey dodges a ranch hand’s switchblade before twisting it into the fucker’s knee. Hobo is all body shots and knees to the crotch.
As for me, I feel like the belle of the ball, dancing with any interested suitor. I throw endless punches before realizing how many of these guys have bad knees and ankles. Soon, I bring my boot down hard on their legs.
Their howls of pain and crunching bones are music filling the air. I’m only awakened from my frenzy by the roar of more arriving motorcycles.
New bodies rush into battle. A few of the more fucked-up ranch hands struggle to retreat. Goose and I tug them back into the pile of violence. The club’s motto during brawls is “no one leaves until the last one begs.”
The newly arrived Ruin barrels through all of us and straight for a man just off to the side. I’m only able to glance in that direction as I peel a guy off Tomcat’s back. Still, it’s long enough to tell me that Urick Halvorson’s younger son is about to bleed.
Erik learns the hard way how Ruin got his name. My president slams the other man into the side of the restaurant. They’re the same size, and Erik moves like a guy who knows how to fight. Ruin still tosses the asshole around like a rag doll.
Bloody and in pain, Erik calls off his men. However, the Steel Berserkers don’t stop fighting. Only when our president says enough will we stand down.
Ruin stubbornly remains silent while staring at a bloody Erik. Finally, after his enemy squirms long enough, he calls us off.
I step back from the guy I was leisurely beating on and shake out my shoulders.
Next to me, Hobo wipes his bloody hands onto his jeans and smiles at me. “How’s my hair?”
“Wild,” I say, and he nods approvingly.
Nearby, Ruin dares to turn his back on Erik and announce, “We’re taking our man to the hospital. None of you are to step foot in that building until we’re gone. If you’re dying, feel free to drive yourself to the fucking funeral home. You’ll only enter the hospital once we’re finished there.”
Ruin turns back to Erik and snarls, “You did this. If my man isn’t okay, your head’s on the chopping block.”
While Ruin threatens Halvorson, Armor helps a battered Yagger onto the back of his hog. Hobo seems to have been on foot when this shit went down, so he takes Yagger’s bike. Soon, the club rides as one to the hospital.
“We’re here too fucking often,” Goose mutters once we arrive.
I realize the last time was after Marky’s death. A smile warms my face when I think of that asshole’s brains splattered in the grass.
With his face a battered mess, Yagger stumbles off the back of Armor’s hog while swearing he’s fine.
“I was just eating when three guys showed up and dragged me outside. They wanted to take me somewhere. I was like, ‘Fuck that shit.’ I tried to break free of them and more guys showed up. I got the feeling I’d be dead if Hobo hadn’t been around to call you guys and jump into the fray.”
“We’ll worry about that later,” Armor insists as he helps the limping man into the emergency room.
The Steel Berserkers Motorcycle Club swallows up the waiting room with our presence. People literally flee the ER. I chuckle at their reactions. I laugh harder at how the woman at the front desk gets a dopey grin on her face at the sight of so many good-looking men.
My club family frowns at my amusement until I shrug and explain, “I love this town.”
My words gain a lot of approving nods. McMurdo Valley refuses to be tamed. We’ve killed and bled to remain on top. Our enemies get destroyed, only for new assholes to pop up with big hopes over forcing this wild place to submit.
Maybe that’s why my club has held McMurdo Valley for so long. We’re just as crazy as the town we call home.
