Purge (Death Crusaders Motorcycle Club)
Read Purge (Death Crusaders Motorcycle Club) Online
Authors: Sandy Kline
| Purge (Death Crusaders Motorcycle Club) |
| Sandy Kline |
| Sandy Kline (2014) |
By Sandy Kline
Copyright © 2014 Sandy Kline
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Dedication
Special thanks to my kids Ethan and Diego and my good
friend Dan Mustaro
Edited By
Deborah Anne
Larkin
PURGE
Death Crusaders MC
Book Two
CONTENTS
Prologue – Modern Day OK Corral
Six - Reunion
Seven – Unexpected Company
Ten – “My Name is Officer Shaw!”
Thirteen – And My Final Answer Is
A Modern Day OK Corral
The press called it a
Modern Day OK Corral and when it was over twenty-seven bikers from three clubs
and eleven law enforcement officials lay dead in the blood red streets.
Sixty-three members from
the Death Crusaders, the Sleazebags, and the Devil’s Advocates were given steep
sentences and all three clubs were thought to be disbanded. Another seventeen
cops were handed down varying sentences for taking bribes, obstruction of
justice, collusion, and other related charges. It was a dark day for outlaw
bikers and an even darker day for law enforcement.
The new Mayor and the New
Police Commissioner took back their town and declared it a biker free zone
after seizing a grand total of seventy-nine properties belonging to known
bikers from all three clubs.
“You ride through our town
wearing a cut and you go to jail!” The Mayor was overheard saying and no one
has yet dared to challenge him.
The atmosphere for bikers
became so venomous that even the legitimate motorcycle clubs uprooted in search
of more favorable climates. Of the four motorcycle sales shops in Whispering
Pines three of them closed shop while a third converted to scooters and four
wheeled off road vehicles only.
A Homecoming of Sorts
For whatever reason my
chauffer has chosen to drive me back rather than rely on air transportation but
that’s okay. Some of the drive is very beautiful and when you’re sitting in the
back of an air conditioned tricked out Land Rover the hours pass pleasantly.
It’s a far cry above the hot sweaty buss that took some 18 hours to get to Belize
City.
The only aspect of the trip
that’s been difficult is the wondering. I have not heard from or spoken to
Blade or my best friend Alex in two years. I assume that she is now a
Whispering Pines police officer and she probably thinks I must have been killed
by the club. Ours will be a glorious reunion. The most difficult part about my
self- imposed exile has been not talking to or otherwise contacting her. I am
sure she’ll probably be pissed at first, but in the end she’ll understand why I
had to run. I would have either ended up dead or in prison. Too many people
wanted me dead so I’m almost certain that would have been the end result had I
not fled. I am actually surprised that no one caught up to me before I left the
country. Maybe that was Blade’s doing and maybe Alex had a hand in that as
well. I do hope Blade told her what happened and that I’m alive but I get the
feeling that that’s not something he would have done.
I can’t wait to see Blade,
the man who gave up everything to make sure I survived. I can’t wait to hear
the story of how he managed to take control of the club though. That must have
been a wild ride indeed. The more I sit here in the back of the Land Rover and
daydream about him the lonelier I feel. I’ll be glad to give up my spinster
mantel and use some long neglected muscles. At first the loss of him was just
too painful to even think about romantic entanglements. After the pain had worn
thin I was just too busy moving about to establish anything beyond fair-weather
friendships. When you have to move forty times a year it’s hard to get close to
anyone.
It wasn’t until I’d arrived
in Belize that I finally settled down and made a few friends. It’s actually
been easy to get to know people here. Everyone speaks English along with Creole
and some other language known only to Belizeans. Still I found it impossible to
have close friends. When you get to really know someone you want to share your
life with them and that’s something I could not afford to do if I wanted to
stay alive; even in Belize a country I am told has no extradition treaty with
the US. There are also a number of US citizens on the tiny caye and that really
surprised me at first. But after living there for a while I began to understand
the attraction. The weather’s never bad, everyone is friendly and the lifestyle
here is totally relaxed and you don’t even need to smoke a joint to experience
the laid back lifestyle here. I fell in love with Caye Caulker and I hope to
return one day. But even more than I love the tiny caye in Belize, I love my
friend Alex and dare I admit I still love Blade. I just hope it’s not the idea
of him that I love and not the man himself because I am dropping everything to
return to him.
“Ms. Clarkson, we’ll be
passing through Whispering Pines in twenty minutes.”
Well that’s news to me. I
thought we were returning to Whispering Pines not passing through.
“Where are we going Mr.
Simmons?”
“Our destination is Gold Hill
Ms. Clarkson.”
“And why are we going there?”
“Because that is where Blade
lives.”
Well that makes sense.
“Is it close?”
“About a hundred miles
separates the two towns. Gold Hill is about half the size of Whispering Pines.”
“Then why are we passing
through Whispering Pines?”
“There’s something I want to
show you.”
“What is it?” I ask.
“You’ll see. We’re almost
there.”
The first thing I see upon
entering Whispering Pines is a giant sign depicting a biker wearing a cut and
riding a Harley. Painted on top of the biker and his motorcycle is the
universal no sign; the red circle with the line slashing through it. That is
bizarre! How can they make riding motorcycles illegal here? Someone must have
just put it up there as a joke or a slam on bikers but it can’t really be
enforced.
As we head into the main
portion of town I get this strong feeling of unease. Something is really wrong
here. I start to ask my driver about it but I decide to just sit, observe, and
think for now. About ten minutes later it hits me. I have been in Whispering
Pines for twenty minutes now and I have not seen a single motorcycle; not one! That
sign is working. They really have kicked out all the bikers. On the other hand
I have seen cops. They’re everywhere. This looks and feels like a town under
martial law, if such a thing is even possible in this day and age. This is truly
bewildering. When we get to the middle of town, the town square so to speak I
get my next whoa feeling. I see three new businesses where there used to be a
motorcycle shop, a muffler place, and a diner. I remember them well because I
spent a lot of time here sitting at the Starbucks across the street. That at
least is still there. As we get closer I begin to see the problem. Below each
new business signage is a small billboard. The one that used to be a muffler
shop says the following.
“Premises formerly owned by
member(s) of an Outlaw Motorcycle Gang.”
The same signage is posted on
the other two new businesses. Now I have to ask. I can’t contain my
bewilderment.
“What’s up with the little
signs on the new businesses?” I ask.
“Very observant Ms. Clarkson.
Every business or home that was owned by a member of one of the three clubs displays
that sign so the townsfolk don’t forget what happens to anyone belonging to an
outlaw biker gang. The Feds swept through here and seized almost eighty
properties. Some were clearly owned by club members and others by
sympathizers.”
“Holy crap, this is like Nazi
Germany and bikers are the Jews. How could this happen?”
I am almost too stunned for
words. It’s like the plague, a human form of the plague swept through here after
I left. I am glad I wasn’t here to see this. I begin to wonder how much of a
welcome I’m going to receive here. I have to trust that Blade wouldn’t have
sent for me if it wasn’t safe.
“If you really want to know
what happened you’ll have to ask Blade.”
“I will. The Death Crusaders,
they’re still active right?”
“Yes ma’am. I am the club’s
Sargent at Arms.” He says proudly.
“What’s your club name?”
“Piper.”
“So nice to meet you Piper.”
I reply with feeling. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you driving me
back. I’m just saddened it wasn’t on the back of a Harley.”
“Me to ma’am, me too.”
“Why’d we go through town
anyway?” I ask. “Surely there are roads that go around this eyesore.”
“I need to show you
something.” He replies.
The tone of his voice crawls
under my skin and stays there for the rest of the ride. I get this ugly feeling
deep inside. I just can’t quite put my finger on it though. I don’t know what
he wants to show me. I think I’ve seen enough ugliness. It’s the Compound. He
wants to show me the Compound. Oh my god, that whole place must have been taken
away by the Feds. What a disaster that must have been for Blade and the others.
Good thing his father wasn’t alive to see this though.
But we don’t go there either.
Abruptly thoughts of my own house come to mind unbidden. I bet my house was
seized since I’m sure they viewed me as a criminal. That’s going to hurt. I
really hope that’s not what he’s going to show me. The closer we get to my
street the more anxious I get. Now I’m convinced that’s where we’re going.
When we pass my street and
head for the outskirts of town I am even more confused. When he makes a
mysterious call on his cell phone I’m beginning to freak. What is going on
here?
“We’re five minutes out Sir.”
He says into the phone.
I can’t tell from his one
sided conversation what’s going on but I guess I’ve got about four more minutes
to wait. When I do realize where we’re headed a dark cold feeling grips my
heart. He’s going to show me cemetery where all the members are buried. That’s
it. Blade is meeting us here and he’s going to show me what they’ve done to his
club. Then it hits me. I remember the last night I was with Blade. He had just
discovered his grandmother dead. Now it all makes sense.
“Hey Piper, this is where
Blades grandmother is buried isn’t it?”
“Yes ma’am.”
Damn…I wonder if this is the
first time he’s come back to visit her. Maybe he wants me here for moral
support. We pull into the parking lot. It’s empty. Piper opens the door for me.
“Right this way miss.” He
says, taking the lead.
We wind through the
headstones in silence. This is a very old cemetery. Judging by the condition of
some of the graves they must be over two hundred years old or more. We move
farther into the cemetery and up over a small rise to a much newer area.
Kneeling in front of a fairly new headstone is a lone figure in black. I can
feel my heart quicken at the sight of Blade for the first time in my two years
of exile. I can’t wait to feel his arms around me. But that can wait. Right now
I have to support my lover in his loss.
As we walk up Piper hangs
back. I get about ten feet from the headstone when I notice something odd. It’s
pretty large and has a badge engraved in the granite. How could he…Oh my god,
Mark is buried here. That explains the badge. But it doesn’t explain Blades
behavior. I didn’t think the two were that close. I walk up behind him, reading
the headstone under my breath.
“Here lies Alexandra Mor…gan.
Wait a second. What the fuck?”
My whole world turns upside
down and a black icy chill reaches in and strangles my heart. Every fiber of my
being screams in agony. My mind reels in shock and confusion. This has to be a
different Alex Morgan. My best friend in the whole world cannot be lying here
dead.
“Nooooooo!” The sound is
ripped from my dead soul. “Noooo!” I scream again.
Over and over until my voice
scratches and my vocal chords refuse to make another sound. I’m vaguely aware
of a pair of arms around me and we’re both lying in the grass on my best
friend’s grave. I turn my anger outward against the only person left I care
about.
“You fucking animal!” I
scream, finding my voice again. “You fucking animal. I hate you! I hate you!” I
shriek over and over again until my vocal chords really are too shredded to
make any more sound.
My throat aches and what’s
left of my heart hammers painfully in my chest. It’s a cruel world where I can
feel this much pain in my heart and it continues to mock me by beating life
into me. At this very moment, if I had a gun I would turn it on myself to end the
pain between my ears. I kick my legs and push against Blade until he
disentangles himself from me and scoots out of reach.
“I’m sorry.” He finally says.
“Keep your useless apology to
yourself.” I croak with effort. “You haven’t earned the right to apologize to
me yet.”
I don’t know how long I
remain in a fetal position weeping, but when I finally uncurl myself and
stretch my cramping limbs my eyes have dried up and I feel like a hallowed out
empty shell void of feelings. When I finally look up I see Blade watching me
with compassion in his eyes.
“Would you like to know how
she died?” He asks me.
“I do, but I’m not sure I’m
ready to hear it.”
“She died a hero doing what
she loved Jen. When you’re ready to hear it I’ll introduce you to the person
she died saving. I think it will give you some strength and closure.”
I nod. “Perhaps you’re right
Blade, but right now…right now I just want to go. Get me out of here please.”
Blade helps me to my feet. I
accept his outstretched hand and stand. I look at Alex’s headstone one more
time.
‘Here lies Officer Alexandra
Morgan HERO. End of watch, 12:34 a.m. September 9
th
2014. She made
the world a better place.’