Page 5 of Shadow

Whatever the hell that was.

The freedom of the open road was unlike any other.

Just me and my bike. The wind in my face, the sun on my back and miles and miles of pavement leading me too nowhere in particular.

I’d been on the road for a few weeks now when I pulled into a convenient mart in the middle of nowhere. Pulling up to the pump, I turned off my bike, then unscrewed the gas cap on my tank. After sliding my card into the reader, I hit the high-octane petrol, stuck the nozzle in my tank, and set the lever to fill.

Looking around the area, it wasn’t much to talk about. Just wide-open fields for miles and miles. Corn, wheat and whatever else grew tall, blowing in the wind.

Not a soul for miles.

This was heaven.

It had to be.

Looking over my shoulder, I spotted an old man standing in the small store, watching me through the dust and dirt covered window. I nodded to him when my eyes landed on a sign.

Truth Refugee Radio Connect, Unite, Thrive.

It wasn’t just the radio station that captured my attention it was the eyes on the sign. Eyes so damn blue, they almost looked translucent with a dark blue ring around them.

To make things more interesting, they looked familiar.

As if I’ve seen them before.

Staring at those eyes, I failed to see what I was doing when the old man in the shop yelled, “Hey! Watch what yer doing!”

Jumping at his voice, I saw, heard, then smelled the gasoline slashing on the ground.

Fuck.

Jumping back, I quickly disengaged the nozzle and placed it back on the pump. Walking over to the small stand near the pump, I grabbed a handful of paper towels and wiped off my tank. After tightening up my gas cap, I tossed the paper towels in the trash and sat on my bike. My eyes turning once again to the sign and those captivating eyes. Reaching behind me for my helmet, I put it on, synching the strap snug.

Starting my bike, I looked over at the scowling old man. Giving him the two-finger salute, I slowly peeled out of the convenient mart and got back on the road, looking over my shoulder one more time at those hauntingly familiar blue eyes.

I didn’t know what made me think of her, but from the moment I left that small hole in the wall in the middle of nowhere, all I could think about was the woman I so-called rescued the night I accidentally killed a Diamondback brother.

The same brother I saw regularly in my dreams.

The same brother who kept repeating over and over again to save her.

I still had no clue what he was talking about, but the urgency and fear in his voice was clear.

He was trying to tell me something.

I just didn’t know what.

The days blurred as time rolled by. The open road blended into one long journey that seemed to never want to end. The quietness and beauty of it all gave me plenty of time for reflection.

My childhood was like any other. I had a mother and father that loved me. An older brother who I looked up to and three sisters that I knew of but never really got to know.

My father was a Golden Skulls club brother. Raised in the Catholic church his whole life, my father Samson devoted himself to his religion until his parents’ death, when he spiraled into a deep depression. Needing something more, my father found, then joined the Golden Skulls, going from one extreme to the other.

My mother, Abigail, was a nun in training when she met dad, giving up the nunnery to be with him. Theoretically, it was a match made in heaven. Two devout Catholics marrying and living their lives in the Lord’s name. Soon after my parents were married, Mom did her due diligence and started pumping out kids.

The first was Balthazar, then came Malachi, and finally me. I loved growing up with two older brothers. Different as night and day but loved and protected me at all times. I wanted so much to be like them when I got older. If I knew back then where life would take us all, I would have run, and run fast. Even then, I saw the signs of something dark in our futures, but my innocence refused to let me believe.

Instead, I stayed oblivious to what was truly happening around me.

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