But I can’t jump off the bike. I don’t know where we are. Is this still Elko? I only know the few shops the Volkshalberd frequented before the Executioners locked us inside the Village. Where am I?
The buildings are big, and many have flashing signs. I see the big highway we used years ago to arrive in Elko. All that concrete reminds me of the government place we went to after Papa died. The world here is hard and sharp. There’s less grass and trees, more people and noise.
As my heart pounds, I want nothing more than to return to the Village. I don’t care if I’m hungry, or John Marks hurts me. My family is back in the place where the cicadas are louder than the traffic.
Anders slows down near a metal gate and waves at a man in a booth. Then the loud bike roars faster, forcing me to hold on tighter to avoid falling off. Anders races us up and down roads lined with big buildings. These aren’t stores, but I’m not sure what this place is or why we’re here.
“This is my house,” Anders explains after his bike rolls into a strange room with a door that slides down. “I need to figure things out.”
He climbs off and waits for me to do the same.
“I’ll stay here,” I insist, too cowardly to see what’s on the other side of the house’s smaller door.
“I can’t think if you’re in the garage.”
Anders picks me up and carries me like a baby into another part of his house. This area is cold and bright. The gray wood floor feels chilly against my bare feet. The ceiling of one room is so high that even Anders can’t reach the top. The walls are very white, and the furniture is very black.
Once curiosity takes over, I forget to be nervous and start exploring.
“This is where you go when you leave me?” I ask, looking back at where Anders paces back and forth near the inside fireplace.
“Yeah.”
“Do all the biker men live here?”
“No. Just me.”
Frowning, I doubt he needs all this space. Of course, he is very tall and has the biggest shoulders. Maybe he just likes to stretch out a lot.
“I’ll feed you, and then I’ll call them,” he mumbles, nervous even though he’s in his home.
Anders takes me to a refrigerator. Finding little food inside, I wonder if he’s poor like us at the Village.
“Crap. I don’t keep a lot of food here,” he says, rubbing his neck too roughly.
I slide my fingers over the skin he scratched raw. “I have the food from the road.”
“No, you need more.”
Glancing out the large, glass doors, I see a grassy park. What is this place? I notice a pool like the one near the apartment building the government told us to live in after the Collective was no more. There’s a metal fence around the pool and then a wooden one around the grassy area.
The sun has finally gone down, and I imagine Mama worrying about me. “My family needs to see my face. Take me back on the bike.”
Anders startles me by putting his big hands on my shoulders. I stare at him and wonder why he looks so afraid. Is he worried about Mama, too?
“I’m not supposed to be giving you food,” he says, frowning in a terrifying way. “I’m not supposed to go out to see you while the lockdown happens. I promised Bronco I wouldn’t. He won’t understand.”
“I can go back.”
“No,” he growls in a deep voice that makes me fear him for the first time.
“Why?”
“I need you to be safe.”
Hugging him, I rest my head on his wide chest. “Don’t worry. You are a ray of sunshine. You told me that the Bronco man is the one who gave you a home. Be honest with him.”
Anders’s face gets really grumpy, making him look like a baby that needs to sleep. “You don’t understand how things work.”
“No, you don’t understand how things work,” I insist, squeezing him tighter. “You live in a big house by yourself. You have all this stuff but no food. I think you’re confused. I’m not confused. You should call Bronco.”
“And if he won’t help your family?”
Thinking of Mama looking for me, I imagine her fear at the sight of those dead men. Will she be scared to see the big hole in Myles’s face? Will she believe Anders did the same to me?
“Is Bronco a bad man like John Marks?” I ask Anders, who now paces around the center part of the kitchen.
“No, but he told me the rules, and I broke them.”
When Anders spoke of Bronco by the road, I could tell he admired the other man. Now, he seems afraid of him. Will Bronco hurt Anders? Or is he afraid of disappointing the man he respects?
Thirsty, I stick my mouth under the sink and turn it on. Anders grumbles about how he fucked up. Then he gives me a can of soda like the kind I see people drink in town. Trying the sweet liquid, I watch him play with his phone.
Soon, he returns to pacing around the room. Every few minutes, he stops and stares at me. Then, he paces again.
After the sugar-filled drink, I feel so excited. I want to climb, but there are no trees. I jump on the couch and walk around up high. Clapping my hands, I don’t know why I feel so awake. I should worry about Mama, Dove, and Future. Though burdened by their fates, I’m also so happy. I want to jump on the chairs and touch the ceiling. I’m so amazed by all the new stuff around me that I nearly forget Anders is nearby.
At some point, two dark-haired biker men enter the house. Now, Anders looks more nervous than ever. My grand sequoia needs a hug, but he’s so far away, and I can’t calm down. I think the soda is made out of smiles and hugs. I feel happier than ever!
The men talk to each other and me, but their words hold little meaning. I want to climb higher. I also need to make Anders feel better. My grand sequoia craves a hug.
I climb onto his back, wanting to make him smile. But he refuses to give up his frown. The other men—Bronco with no beard and Lowell with a dark one—wear the same foul expressions. That’s when I realize they won’t save Mama, Dove, and Future. These biker men belong to the outside world, where no one cares unless you make them.
And I have no way to make anyone do anything.
ANDERS
Bronco is pissed at me. The Executioners’ VP is angry too, but Lowell isn’t the one who’ll throw me out of the club or put a bullet in my head. Bronco knows I owe him. I didn’t follow the rules with Pixie. I’m in deep shit. No getting around that.
But I’m mostly worried about Pixie. That soda she drank made her hyper-as-fuck. And I think she also realizes her family might not survive what happened today. During one visit on the side of the road, Pixie claimed death wasn’t scary.
“We get to go to our next story,” she explained, smiling despite the topic.
On an average day, I bet her Dandelion training holds perfectly. Yet, grief is still grief. Her papa went to his next story, but her pain remains. Now, she fears her family will be wiped out. All because she helped me.
I never had any family worth missing. That doesn’t mean I don’t understand the terror she’s feeling. For the last few months, I’ve dreaded something happening to her. If I lost Pixie, I wasn’t sure how I’d keep getting up every day.
Now, she’s in my house. I’ve dreamed of bringing her here since that first day. She can be my honey—what the club’s wives call themselves. I can experience what the other men do.