Page 3 of Total Carnage
The bike roared to life beneath me, a familiar vibration that sent a jolt through my system. As I pulled out of the lot, the cemetery shrank in my rearview mirror, a reminder of what I'd lost and was fighting for.
The wind whipped against my face, carrying the scent of asphalt and freedom. My need for revenge raced faster than the speedometer. Where to start? Who to trust? The club was gone, and four years was a long time in our world. Alliances shifted like sand, and enemies multiplied like cockroaches.
"One step at a time, Reed," I told myself. "First, we find out who's still breathing."
The road stretched out before me, a black ribbon leading to uncertain horizons. But uncertainty had never stopped me before, and it sure as hell wasn't gonna stop me now. I twisted the throttle, the engine's roar drowning out the doubts in my head.
"Live hard, die free," I said, the old club motto tasting bittersweet on my tongue. "Guess I'm doing both, huh?" The thought of her returned, and I felt my soul sink. “I fucking need you, Raven. You’d make sense of all this. You’d put your hand in mine, and we would lock eyes, and every fucked up thing in the world would disappear.”
As the sun dipped below the horizon, I rode on, a ghost on a stolen bike, chasing answers and vengeance. The night swallowed me whole, but I wasn't afraid of the dark. Not anymore. I was the darkness now, and I was coming for blood.
Vin
The thunderous roar of my Harley drowned out the chaos in my head as I moved further away from Paradise, Arizona, and the cemetery, leaving nothing but dust and broken promises in my wake. Four fucking years. The words echoed in my skull, each repetition like a nail being driven into my brain. How the hell had I lost four years of my life?
The wind whipped against my face, stinging my eyes as I pushed the bike harder and faster, wanting to die all over again. The vibrations thrummed through my body, an electric current of fury and disbelief. My hands gripped the handlebars so tight my knuckles turned white, anchoring me to this moment, this reality that felt like a goddamn nightmare.
"Fuck!" I shouted into the wind, my voice lost in the roar of the engine and the rush of air. My mind was a jumbled mess of fragmented memories—flashes of the attack on Hell's Justice,Raven's face contorted in anguish, the searing pain of bullets tearing through flesh.
I weaved through what little traffic filled the night, pushing the bike to its limits. The needle on the speedometer climbed higher, matching the racing of my pulse. Each mile that disappeared beneath my wheels felt like another step away from the truth, from answers I desperately needed. But I knew there was nothing left in Arizona.
"Get it together, Reed," I told myself, trying to focus on the road ahead. But how do you get your shit straight when your entire world's been turned upside down? When you’ve lost the one person in the world who could take all the pain away.
The desert landscape blurred around me, a hazy mirage of sand and cacti. It felt familiar and alien all at once, like a half-remembered dream. Had it really been four years since I'd ridden these roads? Since I'd felt the thrill of the open highway, the promise of freedom that came with each twist of the throttle?
My mind drifted to Raven, her image seared into my memory like a brand. The thought sent a fresh wave of pain through my chest, sharper than any bullet wound.
"I'm coming for you, baby," I promised, the words lost to the wind. "I'll find you, no matter what it takes. I’ll bring you back just the way I was brought back." But how?
Each mile brought more questions than answers, but one thing was crystal fucking clear—I wasn't stopping until I uncovered the truth, until I found my way back to Raven and the life that had been stolen from me.
Live hard and die free. The club's motto echoed in my mind again, a grim reminder of the life I'd led. But as the evening road grew darker, washing away the landscape to either side, I couldn't help but wonder—where had I spent the last four years? Hell? Or was this Hell?
The neon gas station sign flickered like a dying firefly as I pulled off the highway, my boots hitting the gravel with a crunch that echoed in the stillness. The place looked like it had been plucked straight out of the 1950s and dropped into this godforsaken stretch of desert. Maybe this was Hell. If it was, I knew Raven wouldn’t be here.
I strode towards the attendant, a scrawny kid with acne-scarred cheeks who eyed me like I was the fucking grim reaper. Can't say I blamed him. Four years of who-knows-what had probably left me looking rougher than a mile of bad road. I shoved my hand in my pocket and pulled out a roll of hundred-dollar bills. Whatever had sent me back sent me back prepared.
"Fill 'er up," I said, jerking my thumb towards my bike.
The kid nodded. "Y-yes, sir."
As he fumbled with the pump, I decided to push my luck. "Heard anything about the President of the United States?"
His eyes widened. "Uh, yeah... He recently replaced Stansfield."
My blood ran cold. "What happened to Stansfield?"
"I-I don't know, man. He fucked up while he was in office. Some Nixon-like shit. Got voted out?"
"When did this go down?" I pressed, my voice low and dangerous.
The kid shrank back. "Couple months ago. I don't want any trouble-"
"You're not in trouble, kid," I said, forcing myself to relax. "Just looking for information." I couldn't shake the growing sense of unease as he finished filling up my tank.
My mind returned to the last time I'd seen that bastard Stansfield. His smug face reeked of expensive cologne and corruption, as he'd warned me about seeing his daughter, Raven. I’d told him to fuck off, and then he dropped a fucking bomb on the club. I gritted my teeth, rage boiling up inside me like moltenlead. That son of a bitch had killed and went on about a life of corruption, free as a bird? No fucking way.
As the anger coursed through me, another face swam into view. Raven. God, Raven. Her raven-black hair, those calm eyes that could see right through my bullshit. The memory hit me like a freight train, knocking the wind out of me.
