“Where is Skirt?” she asks with big watery eyes. “I need him. I can’t do this without him. Doc, I’m scared. It’s too soon.”
“It’s going to be fine. You’re going to be okay. Your contractions are far enough apart that we don’t have to worry about the baby coming right now. Do not move from this spot. I’ll be back. I’ll find Skirt, okay?”
She nods, and tears fall from the corners of her eyes. Sweat runs down her neck and pools in the collar of her shirt.
God, today is a shit show.
I hurry toward the dented front door, passing the dead bodies of Candy and Jasmine. My boots thud against the porch, and I look around to see most of the guys patched up thanks to Juliette. I’m so glad she can help me, or who knows how many guys would have lost too much blood.
Poodle has blood running down his forehead, sitting on the ground, his hand against his head, but he seems fine. Juliette is with Tool, and from the looks of it, sewing up his arm and leg. I’m trying to take inventory to make sure everyone is alive.
Who is left? Knives, Tongue, Skirt, Tank, Braveheart, Slingshot, Badge, and Bullseye.
“Come on,” I say with impatience as I slide my eyes over the front of the house. There, by the gate, I see a figure crawling toward the house. “Fuck. Braveheart!” I jump down the steps and spring toward him, but Poodle screaming has me stopping quick. I slide against the desert floor, swinging my arms to stop myself from falling.
“Ellie! Ellie, where is she? Ellie?” he calls out for his daughter. “Tool, she was right next to me; did you see her? Where’s Melissa? Melissa!” His voice breaks as he shouts for help. He stands on shaky legs, tripping over his feet as he takes his next steps. “Ellie!” I can hear the torment in his throat, the fear clutching his chest. “Lady, come on girl, where are you?” His hands press against the side of his head. “Where the fuck is everyone?” he yells, his voice echoing all around me.
I turn my head and see Braveheart. He manages to stand, and he seems unscathed. No injuries. He’s covered in sand and a few cactus needles are impaled in his arms, but other than that, no bullet wounds.
“Melissa!” Poodle screams again when there is no answer. “Ellie!”
“Listen, Braveheart. There are members unaccounted for. I need your help in finding them. Okay? Can you do that?”
“Yes, yeah, I can. I’m fine.” He brushes off his plain black shirt and tugs on his cut. “I can do it.”
“Good. Go. And figure out where the fuck—” A loud explosion shakes under my feet.
When I look to the left, there is smoke and flames licking the sky, Poodle is screaming, and somewhere in the distance I hear a dog barking. Please, let it be Lady, Yeti, or Tyrant.
Shit, and Chaos.
So many animals and people to keep track of.
“Skirt!” Poodle sprints toward where the fire is coming from, and that lets me know one thing.
Dawn might be delivering this baby alone because if Skirt is in the house, with an explosion like that, there’s no way he’s alive.
I’m not the praying type, but whoever is listening, fucking help us.
There’s smoke coming from the inside of the compound. I slam on the brakes, and the car skids to a stop, fishtailing from the momentum still carrying me forward. Dust and burnt rubber swallow the car in a cloud. My arms throb, and the pain causes everything to slant in my vision. My left hand trembles as I tug on the door handle. I bump the door shut with my hip, hold my hands to my chest, and run down the dirt road.
Rocks stab my feet. The flimsy hospital gown rubs against my legs, and the dry air evaporates the water in my eyes and replaces it with sand instead. A sharp sting and a loosening feeling comes from my left arm. When I look, blood appears against the bandage, telling me another stitch has popped.
Eric might not be able to stitch me up because of what is going on here. It was selfish of me to leave the hospital, but I needed to know if my friends were okay.
If Eric would be okay.
My toes dig into the dirt when I come to a stop and peer through the iron gates to see what’s going on. What I see has my pain forgotten. The smoke is black, and Eric is yelling at Poodle as he carries Melissa into the house. Her hair is flowing in the smoky wind, and her body is limp. Skirt’s house is in flames, and there is a murderous scream coming from inside of the clubhouse.
It’s a sound I’ll never be able to forget.
Eric whips his head to the clubhouse when the scream reaches him. Eric runs his fingers through his hair, cursing and looking back at Skirt’s house. He makes a decision and gives the burning building his back while he jumps on the porch and runs inside.
With a gulp, I turn my body and step between the iron bars. I bite my lips and spread my arms like an eagle. My flesh, muscle, blood, and bone press against the self-inflicted cut. My skin is going to tear, and I’m going to lose the small amount of life I’ve gained.
My breasts smash against the metal, roughly rubbing against my nipples. I grunt when the bottom half of my body won’t come through the gate. I tug, pull, but nothing. Wrapping my fingers around the rods, I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and immediately hold back a shout of agony as I use my strength to pull myself up and out.
Pop.
Pop.
Pop.
My stitches pop one by one until I let go of the iron gate. I want to scream from the gasoline fuming my veins, scorching me from the inside out. The tips of my fingers tingle, and raindrops of blood fall onto the ground. As I put one foot in front of the other, I leave a trail behind.
Wetness drips against my stomach, and that’s when I see that the blood is making my gown stick to me. I see Juliette tend to Knives. One of his legs is torn to freaking shreds from the bullets. No one notices me. I’m a ghost because everyone’s focus is on someone else. A bark sounds from my left, startling me. It’s Lady, and her beautiful white hair is patchy with red.
Blood.
She runs toward the flames, barking at the raging beast of a blaze engulfing the sky. If it gets any bigger, the entire compound could go up in flames. Someone’s in there. I decide to go the back way in hopes no one will see me. As I jog around the house, the stillness on this side of the fortress is spine-tingling and fear-inducing. I can smell the smoke and feel the heat of the fire threatening to bubble my skin, but the screams are drowned out from the guttural growl and animalistic roar of the flame.
“Someone! Please, help me!”
I can’t figure out where the voice is coming from.
“Joanna? Oh, thank God.”
“Mary!” I exclaim when the realization hits me. “Mary, oh my God, are you okay? Where are you?” I squeeze my eyes shut when a wave of debilitating pain hits me. I have to keep going. It’s all I can do.
She doesn’t answer me back.
Cold dread soaks into me, and I head in the direction where I thought I heard her. The sky is painted charcoal gray, and the sun is hidden behind the veil of soot. It’s eerie. Darkness has cast it’s shadow, defeating the strength of the day.
I inhale a sharp breath when wood creaks, and a loud bang follows next. Half of the roof has caved in on Skirt’s house now, but I can’t leave Mary. She’s my friend too. “Mary? Talk to me.” The terrain is rockier near Skirt’s house, and my feet are hating me for trudging through the rocks and cactuses.