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The night was damp, fog had settled in and it chilled the air. He didn't mind, in fact he liked the fog. The way it wrapped him up in its wispy arms made him smile... a small smile, one he rarely allowed anyone to see. He had left those upturned lips and the emotions they revealed far behind. Left them to the fading memories of childhood, to the days before he had learned to hate and kill.



The lights of the tavern glowed like neon fog lights just ahead. He twisted back on the throttle and gunned the bike's engine to its limit. The Hog responded with a deep toned bark. He loved the sound of the big twin. The surge of power pushed him back into the cobra seat, the wind driving against his skin, feeling like the stings of a thousand tiny bumblebees. He cut back on the gas just as his front tire reached the asphalt of the parking lot. Pushing his body hard to the left he threw the machine into a screeching slide that ended just in front of the entryway to the bar.



No one in the place paid much attention. "Harleys'" was after all a biker bar. He took a step or two into the gloom of the joint and then stopped, allowing his eyes to adjust to the light, little that there was. The place was nearly packed. The weather had driven most riders off the roads, seeking warmth and drink instead of the nasty wet ride outside. He spotted several of his brothers sitting at a table near the rear of the bar. He headed that direction. But first he had to stop at the bar to grab a beer.



He wasn't the biggest guy in the place... He stood six feet tall and weighed in around 180 pounds. He image was average, not large not small. His body was toned and muscled, but he hid the frame under his loose tee shirt and the Levi cut-off he wore. His hair hung to the middle of his back and on each side, just behind the ear, a thin braided strand could be seen. The things that stood out were his eyes, cold and nearly black. They seemed to look through you, as if seeing something beyond what most could see.

He strode to the table where his companions were gathered. They were loudly laughing as they debated the pros and cons of some worthless bit of information... He moved through the crowd trying not to push anyone too hard or look too directly into anyone’s' eyes as that would have been taken for an insult and instantly started one of the several bar fights that would surely take place during the nights partying. He didn't need that tonight. His mind was fuzzy from the handful of Mister Natural acid he had swallowed a couple hours before. And his reaction time was pure shit... All he wanted was a place to sit and a few beers to wash the day away.



He had nearly made it without incident to the table when the sound of a vicious slap drew his attention. Turning his head so he could peer over his right shoulder he picked up the scene. There was Jake, a brother biker who stood 6' 4" and was built like a professional fullback. His ol' lady was suspended a few inches off the ground in front of him... he held her there with an iron grip around her throat...
"Bitch, he spat...You aren't worth the bullet to fuckin' kill you." The bikers’ eyes narrowed to slits as he viewed the scene being played out in front of him. All around there were men who stood and watched in an almost disinterested way as Jake punished the woman for some unknown misdeed. He wasn't a friend of Jakes' but he did know him. And he also knew that it was taboo to get between a man and his property, no matter what. Still, this didn't sit well and he was in a foul mood anyway. He changed his direction and walked to within a few inches of where Jake stood. The woman was turning a beautiful shade of purple and Jake raised his free hand to deliver yet another smack to her face. Preacher caught Jakes' hand in midswing and pulled it backward. His thumb pressed deeply into the upturned wrist and Jakes hand was instantly numbed. "What the hell, he bellowed as he spun around. You want some of this, bitch?" He let loose of the woman’s throat and she dropped to the floor with a plop...she moaned but didn't move.

Preacher still held the wrist in his hand...pressing his thumb ever harder into Jakes' now burning flesh. "Shit, let go you son of a bitch, he spat the words.
"Why don't you calm down and enjoy your drink, you've made your point with her," Preacher spoke the words with a calm that gave away the rage which already had taken over his mind. Jake didn't answer; instead he swung his free fist towards the bikers chin. Without flinching Preacher turned his face, rolling with the punch which glanced harmlessly off his cheek. "Ok, have it your way," he quietly said. Letting go of Jakes hand, he moved back a step and awaited the fury that he knew was about to be unleashed.

Jake didn't disappoint him. The kick was delivered with the force of a small car, catching Preacher full in his chest and sending him reeling backwards. He crashed over a table, smashing the beer bottles as he tumbled to the floor. The blow was wicked but in his present drug induced state he barely felt it. He rolled to a stop next to the bar using the momentum of the tumble to regain his feet. He turned to face Jake just as the giant swung again... this time Preacher blocked the punch and delivered his own. The chop was aimed at the side of Jakes neck, but the towering monster turned. It missed its mark and struck him directly in the Adam's apple. The big man went down to his knees, choking on his own blood. Preacher turned without a word and not looking back walked to the door. His iron steed had barely had time to cool down and it started with a single kick. It roared to life as Preacher twisted the throttle full on and blasted out of the parking lot... Jake lay facedown in a small pool of his own blood. His wife had regained her senses to the point that when the cops arrived she told them the entire story.



Preacher didn't stop until he had made the state line... back towards the darkness that would hide him from the prying questions the cops were sure to ask. His only thought as to the Jake was to wonder how he thought an old biker lived to be an "old" biker in the first place....




posted on Sunday, February 8, 2009 at 12:08 am 0 Comment(s)



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