Page 15 of Tormented By Regret

Jameson's voice was stoic and cold as fucking ice. “You all alive?”

“For now, Prez.”

“Where's Bandit?”

I looked down at both Whisper and Bandit who was now knocked out beside her.

“He's not doing well, Prez. To be honest, he’s starting to look a little purple.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“He's injured. We all are.”

“Whisper?” He asked, his tone full of brotherly concern.

“She's a little banged up but alive.”

“When that crazy bastard wakes up, tell him he's going to get me a new fucking plane by the end of this week.”

“Yes, Prez.”

“Can you walk the two miles into town?”

“I think so.”

“Don’t fucking think. Just do. You’re in fucking New Mexico. I've got Tarak waiting on you. He'll get you anything you need.” Tarak was the President of the Santa Fe, NM chapter. They came from Indigenous roots out here in the desert and went by a whole new set of rules.

“Two miles, got it.”

“Don't let me down, Powertrain.”

“I won't. Prez.”

I looked down at Bandit and realized I was in deep shit. Two miles. I searched the grounds and realized I had no fucking clue in what direction. And there was no way I was calling them back.

Whisper moaned and I slowly lifted her head. “Breathe, my pretty lunatic.”

“Stop calling Me that or I'll take a bat to your balls.”

I chuckled, mostly in relief that she was talking. She was a fucking spark in this shithole I’d somehow dragged us all into.

“You didn’t die,” she stared up at me.

“No, I didn’t,” I whispered, sliding her hair back off her forehead.

“Did I die?” She asked.

“No. Just hit your head against a rock but you’ll be okay.”

She groaned as she tried to get up and I gingerly grabbed her, helping into a seated position.

“Do you think you can walk?”

“Are you sure I'm not dead?” She groaned as I slipped her arm over shoulder.

“I'm pretty sure. Now I need you to walk.”

She looked at me. “You ever do that to me again, and I'll kill you myself.”

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