Page 36 of Red's Peril: Part 1

“Did we lose anyone?” I ask, anxiously.

Lefty looks at me strangely, a look I can’t interpret, then exchanges a glance with Blade who shrugs. “Nah,” he eventually replies, shaking his head. His mouth opens as if he’s going to say more, but then thinks better of it.

Thank fuck,I think to myself, ignoring his strange reaction.

Blade helps me until we reach the gates. When I tell him I’m fine, he gives me an assessing look, then leaves me to slowly head on up under my own steam to the clubhouse. On the way, Wraith joins me, a hand clasped to his arm.

“You okay?” Blood is dripping from his injury.

“Yeah, fucker just winged me.” He doesn’t look too happy about it, but seems more put out than hurt.

Hearing more footsteps behind me, I turn to see Rock bare chested with his t-shirt held to his head, and Beef cursing beside him, limping. Considering the number of the Damnation who were down, the Devils seem to have gotten away fairly lightly.

I enter the clubroom. My one wish is to collapse on the nearest flat surface, but I force myself to ignore the pain and head for the bar. I haven’t my normal speed, but I set out beers on the bar top just the same. Having done that, I lean against the counter heavily. My back’s throbbing and on fire with pain.

Some of the uninjured, followed by Drummer, enter soon after. Prez’s gaze falls on me, then he frowns, his steel eyes going hard.Fuck, what have I done wrong?Despite my back aching, I try to stand straighter, ready to do whatever is asked of me.

Drummer shakes his head, then his attention turns to the injured and bleeding. “Doc’s on his way.”

“I’m fine,” Rock tells him dismissively. “Just saw stars for a moment.” But each time he takes that t-shirt away, blood streams from his head.

“Beef?” Drummer enquires.

Beef holds out his leg and grimaces as he rotates his ankle. “Sprained I think, not broken.”

Wraith, knowing he’ll be facing an inquisition next, pulls his hand away from his arm which is still obviously bleeding. “Just a scratch, Prez. But I might need a stitch or two.”

Gritting my teeth, I load up a tray, and carry five bottles of beer over.

“What the fuck, Prospect?” Drummer rounds on me. “Get your ass seated, Red. Doc may want to look at you.”

“I’m fine, Drum. And the men will want drinks. You want your whisky?” I’m proud how strong I make my voice sound.

“If I do, I’ll get it my fuckin’ self. I’m not helpless. Sit your fuckin’ ass down!”

If I sit, I doubt I’ll be getting up again, but with his sharp eyes on me, I place the tray on the table, and allow my ass to settle on the nearest seat. As I sit with a drawn-out shuddering breath, I muse this portion of the clubhouse is like a hospital waiting room.

There’s the sound of a motorcycle arriving outside the clubhouse, and in walks a man I’ve not seen before. He’s wearing leather, but no cut, and has a military hairstyle.

“Doc.” Drummer approaches and shakes his hand. He waves back at the three members. “Fix them up first, I need them in church. Leave the prospect ‘til last as he’s making out there’s nothing wrong with him.”

True, I did imply that. I feel my lips curve.

Having issued his instructions, Drummer starts to walk past, glaring at me as he passes. “You want that patch, brother? Then you stay there on your ass.”

I think I’d need help getting back on my feet, so I’m quite inclined to obey. Who am I to argue with the president?

Doc seems to know what he’s doing, though as he tends to the other men, he explains to Wraith and me that he’s only an ex-Army medic. Still, he seems expert at field dressings and basic first aid. Wraith, indeed, has several, not just a couple, of stitches, and Rock gets some glue. Beef gets his foot bandaged tightly.

As they are being treated, the rest of the men come in. Slick, raising his chin at me when he sees me sitting with the walking wounded, takes position behind the bar. As I suspected, his services are in great demand.

Slowly, the men start to move toward the meeting room. I watch them in envy. Sure, I’ve been a part of this today, and have got the bruises to show for it, but from hereon in, I’ll be told nothing.

I want my patch,I remind myself. I’ll be asking no questions. I’ll just have to wonder about what went wrong, and what happened at the Hell’s Damnation clubhouse.

It’s not long before the medic has finished and has left, and the clubroom is empty except for me and Slick.

“Wanna beer?” Slick calls out to me.

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