Page 121 of Bleed Me

“Yes.”

Pop! Pop! Pop! Giver discharged a clip, grabbed one from my jean pocket, and replaced it. “Ready.”

Both firing, we left our cover behind and ran to our brothers. Now, even closer to the wire fencing, I could see Redemption Ryders inside, shooting across the road, taking down men. They seemed very focused on keeping the enemy from moving to their left, right where we were.

Seeing us coming, Torque yelled, “Cover me, and I’ll drag him.”

On his back, Crow was still firing and screaming, “Motherfuckers!”

Bam! Bam! Bam!... Giver and I leaped over Crow’s feet and fired and fired as Torque dragged Crow toward another tree. Torque suddenly jolted as he got clipped on the shoulder. As the man who shot him aimed again to finish the job, I sent a bullet into his head.

Holstering one gun, I tapped Giver’s back as I ran behind him to help an injured Torque, who was continuing to drag Crow to the Ryders’ side of the road. Using only peripheral vision, Giver kept walking with us, firing the whole time.

Enemy gunfire was too heavy to make it to the fencing, so we opted for a large tree off to the side of it. Once to the tree, I almost screamed when I saw who Torque and Crow had been trying to get to. No wonder the Ryders are protecting this side! Not caring that there wasn’t enough room to protect us all, I reached for my brother, but was jerked backward by my vest and shoved behind another tree. Giver shielded me there while we studied Lynx, sitting on his knees, holding his side.

I was no longer Road Captain, but old habits die hard. I asked Torque, “Report!”

Still on his knees, Lynx was now shooting around the tree with his left hand as Torque wrapped his right arm. “He’s pissed but not hurt too bad!”

“You?”

“Just a shoulder nick!”

That reminded me… “Giver—”

His heavy breathing against my back brought me comfort. “Same. Just a shoulder nick.”

I had yet to have a second to even notice any of his blood.

Lying flat behind the tree with Lynx and Torque, Crow was roaring, “I had one fucking leg without a scar and these bastards had to fuck it up!”

Torque shrugged at us. “He’s pissed, too!”

Giver asked, “Where’s everyone else?”

Torque shook his head. “Scattered!”

There was no time to ask what had happened and how everyone was separated. We needed a plan. Giver told me, “I gotta get back in there.”

I patted my pockets and holder. “Ammo?”

He reloaded. “Enough to cause some damage.”

Just then, a whistle made it over all the noise. Giver and I quickly looked to the fencing about ten feet away. Giver laughed, “Motherfucker! Ya finally get out of bed?”

Artist was between the fence and the workshop for the bikes. He was using bolt cutters to cut a hole in the wire. “Eh, I figured it was better than reruns of the Golden Girls!”

“Hey!” I hollered. “Those bitches rock!”

“You would know!”

I smiled, happy to see him bouncing back. “Asshole!”

Bending the fencing for us to fit through, Art warned, “Wait for the sign. Then run!”

“What sign?” asked Giver, but Art was already gone.

When I relayed the plan to Torque, he asked, “What sign?”