Page 6 of The Vipers and Their Venom

Something wicked this way comes, I think to myself as that deep growling bass of engines draws ever closer.

Intrigued, I push away from the wall, stalk through the yard, and head through a door to the right which takes me to the main entrance of the college. I’m interested enough to see who is coming to our college on what sounds like at least twenty bikes.

When I exit the main doors at the front of the college, I stop and pull back a little. Standing a few feet away, at the edge of the gravel path leading to the steps, is Nathaniele and his jumped-up shit of a son, Domenic. They’re both standing formally, hands crossed in front of them as they wait.

What the fuck is going on?

The noise gets louder, bigger, until I swear, I can feel the vibrations running through my feet.

The hair on the back of my neck stands on end as what looks to be about thirty, not twenty, bikes roar up the drive.

Slipping out of the door while everyone is staring forward, I move to my right and take out a cigarette. I tap it against the packet and watch the bikes approach. These aren’t modern superbikes, or those sports bikes; these are big, heavy hogs.

I put the cigarette between my lips and take out my Zippo lighter. I flick the lid open, strike the wheel, and touch the flameto the end of the cigarette. I rarely smoke these days. Once a week, at the most, twice. I like the taste, and it reminds me of being young.

When I was a pre-teen, I used to steal my father’s cigarettes sometimes and have one with my sister, her giggling and shushing me. She was three years older and really shouldn’t have been encouraging me. I think she liked to see me turn red and cough. The joke’s on her, though, because she got addicted and now she vapes everywhere she goes, whereas I can take it or leave it.

There’s not much I can’t take or leave. If you become a slave to your desires, you’re weak.

I’m not weak.

I blow the smoke out and narrow my eyes as the sun glints off the metal of the first bike pulling up to a stop in front of Nathaniele and his little group.

The men on the bikes are big. All of them. Big in that burly way that makes them look as if they work with their hands and build things. The leader pulls his helmet off as he still straddles the bike. His thighs are like fucking tree trunks. I bet he’d do well in the fight ring here.

He’s middle-aged, I think. Perhaps around forty-five. I can’t tell ages easily once someone gets over thirty. Between thirty and about sixty, they look the same to me. There are young people, like me and my fellow college-goers, middle-aged people, and then old people. That’s it. Don’t ask me to narrow it down further ’cause I can’t tell for shit other than that.

He has a short, dark beard, and heavy slashes of angry brows above deep-set eyes. His gaze sweeps over the men, the building, me, and then back to the men, before settling on Nathaniele.

As each bike stops, the roar of the engines lessens, until the final bike cuts out and I can hear the birds again.

There are three bikes behind the leader. Two more big men, and in between them someone who is most certainly female.

Even though she’s still sitting on her own bike, I can tell she’s petite in height. She’s definitely not petite all over, though. Her tits are big and practically bursting out of the leather jacket she’s wearing. Her thick thighs are also leather clad and grip the bike with obvious strength. For one crazy moment, even though I don’t know what the fuck she looks like, I picture them gripping my hips.

The leader slams down the kickstand on his bike, swings his leg over the seat to stand, and strolls over to Nathaniele.

“Pleased to meet you,” Nathaniele says in that stick-up-his-ass way he has.

Biker-dude ignores the hand and narrows his eyes. “You gonna take care of my daughter?”

Nathaniele laughs. “Straight down to business, I see. Well, then. See up there?” He points to the roof of the college.

The biker’s line of sight follows where Nathaniele is pointing. He shrugs.

“Keep looking.” Nataniele encourages.

A few seconds later, the whining of one of the drones makes itself known.

“They patrol the grounds all the time, day and night. We have a wired fence right around the perimeter. Guards on the gate at the entrance to the drive, which you already know. We have dogs patrolling the grounds, too, with their handlers. We also have a new team of security who patrol the outer edges of the grounds where the woods meet the boundary, just in case.”

“Just in case, huh?” The man laughs a little. “I heard you had a little bit of trouble.”

“Nothing we couldn’t handle,” Dom chips in.

Christ, he’s an arrogant fucking shit, and I would love to detach his smug head from his body. But as he’s Nathaniele’s son, that would be a deadly thing for me to attempt.

Biker-dude narrows his eyes at Dom. “That right? And you are?”

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