Page 32 of Joker's Ghost
Did I wake up in some kinda fucked-up alternate universe where we weren’t bikers?
“You guys ever think about riding motorcycles?”
“Motorcycles?” Python screws up his face. “I just bought myself a brand-new Duesenberg. What the fuck would I do with a motorcycle?”
Cobra chimes in, “Yeah, I can just see Sheena and Daisy straddling a motorcycle.”
I finish my drink and push away from the bar with the excuse of finding Daisy, but nothing makes sense.
I skim the perimeter of the bar, looking for some sign that what I’m experiencing is a dream or some kind of weird seizure from my fall, but aside from the turning back of time, everyone seems to act normally. No crazy smoke coming out of the floor or hidden passageways.
I search for Daisy as I make my way to the other side of the room, but I can’t find her or the table she was sitting at with the other women. Out of my peripheral vision, I catch a glimpse of a man dressed in full Indian regalia. I turn for a better look and freeze. Exactly the same costume as the guy I saw before my fall, before the clock turned back eighty-five years.
I rush toward him, but I can’t make it through the crowd, so I backtrack around to the bar. I look over my shoulder, but I can’t locate any of the Serpents. The guydressed as a Shoshone Indian turns and closes the distance between us.
“Joker?” Daisy’s voice comes from a great distance, but I can’t turn my head to look at her. My eyes are fixed on the guy coming closer and closer. His dark eyes staring straight through me.
He’s the Nomad from the safe house. The Nomad who put a curse on me. The Nomad who’s supposed to be dead.
“Joker?” Daisy’s voice rings out closer this time.
The Nomad slices a blade through the air, and I jump back just as Daisy steps between us. He pounces, and the blade disappears into her abdomen. Her eyes grow wide seconds before she doubles over, collapsing to the floor.
I pull out the silver feather, and the Nomad swipes it away. “Nothing will help her now.”
I lunge for him, but he vanishes into the crowd.
Everyone stares, transfixed, at Daisy’s blood pooling around her.
“Joker?” Daisy cradles her abdomen.
I lean in to hear her whispered words.
“Joker, the baby . . .”
My head spins. The room tilts. I gasp for air, then darkness.
CHAPTER 11
JOKER
Who decided it was a good idea to drive a jackhammer through my head?
“Joker, please wake up.” Daisy’s soft voice surrounds me. I struggle to open my eyes, feeling like they’re glued shut from the inside.
I concentrate, and with every ounce of strength, I pry them open.
“He opened his eyes.” Daisy’s face hovers over me. “Baby, can you hear me?”
I want to tell her I can hear her. I want to see if she’s all right, but my throat is dry, and when I open my mouth, nothing comes out.
“Just take it easy. The doctor will be here soon.”
My eyes flutter, then close again.
“Joker, wake up,” a firm male voice orders, and again I struggle to open my eyes.
This time, I’m staring into the serious face of Doc Henderson.
