Chapter 10: Travelin' Men Part 1

Monday was a return to the normal world and work. JT was helping Jake remove a transmission from a '61 Ford Ranchero, while Piney and Clay were working on separate vehicles. Jake kept his eye on everyone, watching how they worked and how they worked together. The phone rang and without asking, JT went over and answered it. He wrote down the information and hung up, then came back to the job.

“Another job, JT?”

“Yeah, Mr. Kanter over on Freemont wants his car repaired, but needs it towed in. Told him we don't do towing yet, but we'll be happy to do the work, if he brings it in.”

“You know, I need another wrecker. I'm losing work, because I don't have one that works right, but I was too busy working, to drop everything and even start picking the cars up anyway. Even with Clay here, I was hard pressed to work in the office, fix cars and drive a truck. I'm thinking we have enough guys now, that a truck is a good thing to get. You guys hear of a good half or three quarter ton, hopefully a duellie, let me know. I know where I can get my hands on a used wrecker to put on it. The bed doesn't matter, just the chassis and cab. Oh, running well would be nice too.”

“Look no further, Jake. I know just where to go to find one. I'll talk to Wally tonight and ask him to get a hold of, what's his name...oh yeah, Uncle Tom. This guy knows where to get everything, he says, so let's see if he's as good as his word.”

“Okay, let me add one more thing to the list. Not stolen. All I want is a decent truck to put a unit on the back and that's it. I'm only looking to spend a few hundred on it at best, but I got to have the title, or all bets are off.”

JT and Piney understood the need for legalities in this situation and wondered if Tom did know of legal sources of enterprise. Thoughts of tow trucks were dashed from their thoughts, as the roar of a Harley came into the lot. The big smile showing on the rider, meant only one thing, Chico was back. He raced up and as usual, waited until the last minute, before hitting the back brake and skidded up to them sideways. He flipped his bike to the side and got off, going straight to JT and then Piney, hugging them both happily. He went to Jake and respectfully offered his hand and smiled at him. Jake took it firmly and pulled him to a hug, clapping him on the back.

“Welcome back, Chico. Glad to see the ride was okay. No troubles?”

“A pleasure, Senor Jake. The bike, she's okay, but I heard a little rattle happening in the back somewhere. I was just passing Modesto when I first heard it.”

Jake knelt down and began looking Chico's bike over, shifting moving parts to see what could make the noise. He checked the tension on the chain and it was extremely slack.

“This might be the cause of it. Holy shit, Chico, the tension nut is gone. You, my boy, are one lucky son of a bitch. This chain could have jumped off the sprocket at any time and seized the wheel.”

To stress his point, Jake picked the chain off the sprocket easily, showing how close Chico came to ending the ride differently.

“I'm not saying the way you ride this thing is wrong, Chico, but if you want to come in my lot and ride the way you do, make sure you ain't going to kill anyone, when you hit the brakes and expect to stop. What I'm saying, is take better care of this bike. If you ride with the guys in a club and your bike screws up, every guy behind you can be involved if you lose it. Remember that, all of you. Lone riding is one thing, but club riding is totally different and I explained this to you before, I know I have. Everyone from JT back, depend on the bikes they ride and the ones they ride with. Not a good thing to carry with you the rest of your life, knowing a brother is badly injured, or dead, because you didn't take care of your ride and endangered everyone with it.”

The speech silenced them all, knowing every word Jake spoke, was an invaluable truth to them. The point of riding as a club and respecting it, depended on each member doing his part. JT knew a rule had to be made, regarding the safety of each bike that rode in the club. When lives were in the balance, every precaution needed to be taken care of, before engines were started and the formation rolled out onto the road.

“Clay, go see if you can find a nut to fit this and make this thing rideable again. No way I'm allowing this bike to be ridden, until it's fixed. Might as well go and relax, Chico, you're not going anywhere, until it's right.”

Chico had no objection to staying put, his ride to Oakland done and answers were forthcoming to their enterprise. He shook Jake's hand and thanked him for his kindness and assurance his bike would be safe to ride again. Chico slowly walked away aimlessly towards the clubhouse, so Jake gave JT and Piney some time off to go talk to him and catch up on things. It would be lunch time soon enough, so a little more time off wasn't a problem.

JT went over and opened the door and they went in. The bay door opened wide and JT and Piney showed Chico what had been accomplished so far. He was impressed with what he saw and what was in the works. Once the tour was over, they went and sat on the chairs and couch, lighting up cigarettes, then JT filled him on all the things that had happened and the need for new rules to be made. He explained that he would have to stick around town for a few days, so they could have a full club meeting about everything. Two more guys were being considered, Clay being one and needed his approval to be accepted, as well as the patches being prepared for them.

Chico agreed and said he would stick around, as long as he had a place to crash and park his bike. He just got his run money, so he was carrying his usual several hundred dollars. It didn't take a stretch to tell him a room at the motel would be easy to get for him and his bike would be with theirs. Chico's smile was broad and well felt, as he heard things were moving forward, despite the troubles faced so far. He said he knew of the El Locos and had passed them riding a few times. He said they left him alone and never bothered him on his runs. Whether it was his ethnicity, or the fact he wore no colours, or patch, that they gave him a clear road to run. He didn't get any trouble from the Disciples, but they seemed unhappy with his presence on the same road as them. What all of it led them to, was the main question that needed to be asked, were they in business to ride?

“You guys are going to love this. I talked to my guy in Oakland and told him how many bikes we had, that we could do this and he said he'd talk to our guy in TJ, who would let us know if it was good. I fucking rode the whole way there man, wondering if Luis was going to be pissed at me, or if he would say fuck you and never come back, or say sure, let's do this. Fucking relatives, man. They act like the big shots on both sides of the border, but I'm the one running all of this shit. Without me, they have nothing but a lot of space between two points. Only thing is, Luis grows it and Manuel sells it. If either says no, I get the stick with the shitty end, you know?”

JT and Piney were still waiting for Chico to give them the answer, but figured that many hours alone, he just wanted to talk to someone and they let him have his say.

“So I get to the border, my cousin is sitting at the truck stop and he has this look on his face, like he wants to kick my ass. I think, fuck you Luis, what's wrong with me bringing in more business? I get off my bike and walk over to him and stand in front of him, you know and like, look at him the same way he's doing to me. He stares me down and then he smiles at me and hugs me. I'm not sure if he has a knife or he is really happy to see me, so I'm getting ready for him to move on me and he looks at me, still smiling at me, so I'm thinking, okay, what now. Fucking Luis, gilipollas sits me in his truck and tells me he has over a ton of weed to move and more is coming. He needs it out of Mexico and up here mucho pronto. I said we could do it at a two hundred per rider, he says one hundred, like I get now. So I say, Luis, you need it moved, I have it moved, but it takes more money and the ride is getting dangerous.”

JT and Piney both acknowledged the present danger of gang violence and continued listening, to see what Chico managed to get them. Even if it was still one hundred per run, it was good money to bank and get something started for the club.

“He says, how dangerous? I told him about the new gangs forming and everyone wants a piece of what we have already. I told him guns were being carried and if they want me to ride loco weed north for a hundred per run, they could find someone else who wanted to put their life on the line for it. This wasn't just going for a long ride anymore man, this was trying to get through enemy territory and I had enough of doing that in Vietnam. So my cousin looks at me and gets it through his head, that what he can make moving all that weed and what it's going to cost per rider, he smiles and says sure, let's do it. So guys, do we have the bikes?”

Cheers were shouted out, then quietened down, when the plan was set and dreams were becoming realities.

“Sure do, Chico. Piney and I are on the road and running great. Already did a good run, so we know they're good on the road. Keith and Otto are good and Lenny is looking for bags. You know, I had another thought we might hit your cousin with.”

“What's that, JT?”

“This was all about motorcycles running it up to Oakland, but what about a car? We could move way more shit that way per run.”

“Okay, I see what you're getting at, man. You thinking of Wally?”

“Yeah. His car is running pretty good now and I think it could make it down and back with no problems. I mean, think of that huge trunk and how much we could put in it? He could carry as much as us and more. We could ride as protection and use ourselves as a distraction. Everyone will be looking at all the bikers, but they'll miss the guy in the old car just driving along, minding his own business. We happen to get pulled over for some reason, or another and they find nothing on us and Wally just keeps going like he doesn't know us. We catch up later on and make it to Oakland and unload where your other cousin wants us to take it to. No one suspects a thing.”

“So how do we do the transfer from down there and get it into the trunk? Don't think Wally's car can make it where we have to go. Don't have a bike, you ain't getting there, unless you walk.”

JT thought for a moment.

“How hard would it be to make a couple of runs from where you meet your cousin and somewhere Wally can park. We can carry it to him and load him up and then he heads out first and we follow a mile behind.”

“Yeah, yeah, that could work. Not hard for a bike to get through one at a time, single file. Wally can park at a spot I know of. No one can see him, if he sits there and we can make the runs. If we have big enough bags, we can carry it all in one run back and forth.”

“I wonder how much Wally's car can handle, before we decide to load it up? That's the last thing we'd need. Wally busted down, with all the weed in the trunk.”

That thought was left for the meeting to be answered. With Chico caught up with everything, he reached into his vest pocket on the inside and pulled out a joint.

“Latest crop, might as well see how good it is.”

Chico lit it up and drew in deeply, then passed it to Piney, who did the same, passing it to JT. They sat and savoured the smoke in their mouths, judging the taste and how it was making them feel. Nods were given and they sat and consumed it, relaxing on the furniture, feet up on the drywall table.

Wednesday was the day of the first official meeting of the club. They all gathered after work hours and JT shut the gate and locked it, making sure there were no interruptions. Jake was off to see Marlene for dinner, so they knew he was settled for the evening. They opened beers and toasted the clubhouse and the club, then JT took control, as he sat at the desk and the others milled on, or around the furniture. All of the issues were discussed about Chico's news and new rules set down about bike safety. Otto said the patches would be ready by Thursday night and all they had to do was bring in a cut and the guy would sew them on. No one had any new issues to discuss, so JT called the meeting over and slapped his palm on the desk. Friday was their first day to ride as one, to ride as a brotherhood, to ride as the Sons of Anarchy.

Jake had a visible worry on his face, from the moment they announced the ride. He couldn't begin to tell them things to watch out for and always stay together in a group. JT could see it was more like a father seeing his boys go off for the first time, than a stranger telling them to have a nice trip. He wished they'd gone out with him first, so he could show them the rules of the road, how to act as one at all times. He did his best in the time available, to give JT and Piney all the tips and thoughts he could think of, doing his best to make sure the trip was safe and they got back whole.

Friday morning came and bikes began pulling into the lot. One by one, the line of bikes grew, until everyone was there, present and accounted for. Jake, for his part went to each one and gave it a thorough going over, making sure things were tight and secure and no leaks were happening. The guys were in the clubhouse with Chico, going over the route and the destination. He explained how the hand-off worked with him and how to pack their bags properly for the ride back. The one thing Chico was most concerned about, was the ability of the guys to ride for such long hours.

It was five hundred miles there and the same back and he was concerned that they might not be able to handle riding for up to sixteen, or eighteen hours straight. JT, Piney and Lenny knew the last time they ever endured anything of that duration, was back in 'Nam. This was a lot less stressful than jungle warfare and less exhaustive physically, so they didn't feel the need to worry. Keith said he was used to long rides and missed them, having spent so many hours crossing America. Otto was the only one who was unsure of longevity in the saddle and decided this would be a test of his endurance and see just how far he could make it.

“You know how you see me doing things on my bike and you think I'm like, showing off and thing, but mostly what I'm doing, is stretching and relaxing on the ride. Once you guys get some miles behind you, you'll feel better on your bikes. You'll know how it balances out and moves to your body, so you learn to do things and keep it straight, that way you don't have to keep stopping to work out stiff muscles, man. That shit hurts, you know?”

They understood Chico's reasoning for his stunts, but they were sure they wouldn't be doing any Flying Crosses any time soon. With everything said, that could be said, it was time to head out. The guys walked out of the clubhouse to their bikes and Jake was there beside them. JT locked up the building and stood beside Jake, before he went to his bike.

“You take good care of these boys, JT. They're depending on you to get them there and back, remember that, son. If you run into any trouble out there, call me, you got my numbers, doesn't matter the time, just call, I'll be there as soon as I can, okay?”

JT saw the worry from Jake caring about him so much and what he was ready to undertake. His eyes were swelling with emotion, trying to remain stoic, but just underneath, everything he felt for JT and his club members, was ready to gush forth from him. Knowing that same feeling inside his own heart for Jake was ever-present, he just hugged him tightly, then felt him respond in kind and they held in bond, no words to express what they felt for each other. Assured of themselves, Jake held onto JT's arms for a moment longer and looked at him.

“I'll be here waiting for you to come home, you just make sure you get here, understand.”

“I will, Jake. I promise.”

They hugged one more time and JT went to his bike and sat on it. He looked down the row of riders, waiting for his signal and he stuck his finger up and twirled it, to tell them to start up the bikes. One by one, the heavy metal horses were brought to life and readied to ride. When JT felt all the bikes had been warmed up enough, he clutched and put it in gear. He looked at Jake and nodded confidently to him and started the inaugural ride. One after the other, they pulled out and followed JT out of the gate and on towards 99.

JT was up at the lead by himself, Piney and Lenny behind him, then Chico and Keith behind them and Otto riding at the back solo. The tanks were full and ready to make the first leg of the journey, to where the first gas stop and food was scheduled. JT pulled off Kettleman Lane and took the ramp onto 99 and the highway became theirs. JT twisted the throttle and took them up to sixty and began cruising, the others staying close with every move. The riders settled into their seats and got comfortable, as the miles of highway to travel, stretched out before them. Canteens were brought to drink water if they were thirsty and not have any reasons to stop and take more time than they needed.

Otto rode at the back, his view, one that made him smile with pride. For everything that JT didn't see, Otto did. Six riders all moving simultaneously as one, six riders wearing a common patch on their backs. He looked at his artwork personified by the addition of the club name across the top and California as their home. He took his left hand off the grip and felt the rectangular patch on the left breast of his cut and knew it said Redwood Original, then the one on the other side that said First Nine. Otto seemed to sit a little taller in the saddle after that, his height making him the shortest member of the club, but still one who garnered respect in other ways.

Everyone seemed to be more aware of themselves, as they rode in formation and not a car passed, without at least one face turning to stare at them. It gave them a sense of being, not as an unrecognizable person, but someone who belonged to a group of individuals who acted as one. Their strength was in their numbers and every man contributed to the power they possessed.

The flat land made the ride easy on the bikes, as each one purred its tune to the RPM they revved at. The meandering highway became boring, the mountains off to the right, just a never-ending line on the horizon, while to the left, large expanses of flat land were either irrigated to bear fruit, or lay dry and barren in the sun. Every rider wore dark shades to ward off the glare of the sun, as it reflected off cars and the steady haze it left above the road's surface.

Chico sped up a bit and pulled alongside JT and pointed at the exit that was coming up. He knew from experience, that this station fill up guaranteed him enough gas to get there and cruise around, before the trip back. It also gave everyone a chance to stretch and get the blood flowing to idle body parts again. The road signs indicated they were only thirty miles, or so from Bakersfield, making some happy they had made it this far already. Chico led them to the truck stop and pulled in the lot. He rolled up to the pump and greeted the attendant, who he knew well from his many runs.

“Chico, buenos días, mi amigo. Como esta?”

“Eh, muchacho. Brought you lots of business this time. This is the club I was telling you about. We need six full tanks, amigo and we'll see you on the run back tomorrow.”

Fernando smiled happily, knowing his sales for the day, just became better, than they were looking before. Chico waited until the last tank was topped off and he peeled off a twenty and a five and told Fernando to keep the change of three dollars. They parked their bikes and went into the diner at the other end of the lot. Stares and looks were immediately given to them, the moment they walked in and none were an invitation to sit and join them. They ignored the visual threat and went in as a group, their numbers warding off any notion of verbally attacking them.

Reputations had been made regarding bikers, the constant news reports of violence and turf wars over drugs, had made it to every ear and they had formed a collective opinion, that bikers were undesirables. Nothing but miscreants and malcontents, bent on destroying what they felt their great nation was about and stood for.

They sat at two tables and waited for service, looking over the menus. Chico looked around for his favourite waitress and saw she was being talked to by the cook. What he could make out, was that the cook didn't want her coming over to serve them. Chico saw her head lower and nod, then she began coming over.

“Hey Novio, what's up? I saw Joe talking to you and he don't look too happy, neither do you.”

Marietta looked saddened greatly, having to tell Chico what she was told to do.

“He told me to say he wasn't serving you and said you have to leave.”

“Joe said that? What the fuck, Baby? I've been coming here for years to this place. I'm going to talk to him and find out what his problem is, man. This is bullshit.”

“Oh Chico, don't start anything with him, I really need this job. I have nothing, if I lose this.”

“You'll always have something, Marietta. Me.”

Chico got up and went over to Joe and called him from the kitchen. Joe's head stuck out the serving window and it didn't take much imagination from the hand signals given, that he wasn't even entertaining the idea of discussing it with Chico. Chico motioned he would come over the counter, if any more of the same attitude came from him.

The guys got up quickly and came over to him, causing other diners who sided with Joe, to rise in his defence. It quickly became a standoff, both sides able to cause some serious hurt to the other. JT got his club moving towards the door, eyes always on guard for sudden moves. The door swung closed and it's closure was an end to hostilities. They got on their bikes and started them, then Marietta came out to Chico and threw her arms around his neck, obviously telling him in Spanish, how sorry she was and letting him know she didn't feel that way towards him, or his club. Chico pulled her to him and kissed her passionately, expressing his feelings through his lips and hands. Marietta stood after the kiss and looked at him, the uncertainty in her eyes, that she was looking at him for the last time.

“I'll see you on my way back, Marietta, tú eres mi corazón.”

Chico took her hand and kissed it, looking deeply into her dark eyes, then let it go, still fixed with them, as he snapped the throttle a couple of times and joined the others waiting for him. JT started off, but Chico looked back one last time at Marietta, standing in the parking lot by herself, her eyes telling him her heart was going with him. Chico snapped his head back smartly to her and followed the flow of the club, as they pulled out and headed on to the border.

Empty stomachs made for an uncomfortable ride and the attitudes given to them, made for an uncomfortable welcome to the road. They headed south through the farmlands and came to the junction of 99 and I-5, where the mountains lay in front of them and the highway began cutting through them. Chico rode beside JT with a firmness to his face, that meant only one thing, he was still reeling from the disrespect he received from Joe. The only thing that made him different than before, was the patch on his back and the brothers that rode with him. JT looked back at the black strip of asphalt ahead of him and began considering the ramifications of choosing this lifestyle. Was society going to rebel back against him, as much as he was rebelling against it?

The passage cut for the highway afforded little in the way of scenery, just a continuous point on the horizon to focus on. Chico seemed to be getting himself back under control and letting go of what happened earlier. JT saw the ease in his face and the casual riding style he got into and hoped the worst of it was over for him. It was becoming clear to everyone, he imagined, that what was their life before, wouldn't be the same anymore.

The break from mountains wasn't as welcomed as they hoped, as Los Angeles loomed before them, the thick layer of smog hovering over the city. The flow of traffic seemed to keep growing exponentially, the closer they came to it. The road suddenly became a very crowded place, that changed the dynamics of how they rode. Drivers showed their distaste for them and cut them off, giving them the finger and generally giving them dirty looks.

JT couldn't understand why the level of animosity against them was so high. He couldn't comprehend why people would have such a great dislike for them, yet not know them in the least. The line of headlights coming up towards them, let them know a club was riding their way. As they approached, JT raised his left hand to them and waved and received nothing but stern faces looking back at him. The brotherhood that had existed between all riders, seemed to have been diminished, to only those of the club they rode in. More and more, he wished he had Jake's counsel on everything. His words of leading them down the road to trouble and danger, weighed heavy on his shoulders, as the responsibility to their safety grew with each passing occurrence that happened to them.

Finally getting past the city core, one thing they noticed was the change in the air. The cooler mountain air was warmed, now becoming more appealing to feel on their skin, as the mountain range to their right began fading away in height. I-5 swung in a large sweeping right curve, leading to the coast, then a sweeping left, bringing them along it. The first sign that everyone saw, that made them know they were close, were the start of palm trees growing alongside the highway. The feel of the sea air hit them, the salty smell and cooler offshore breezes mixed in pockets that they rode through, eventually evening out to one temperature again.

The ride was still exciting, as new places were visited and the differences in the people became evident, the closer to the border they came. Traditional Mexican culture was everywhere, as they rode in through San Diego. The bright colours were displayed flagrantly everywhere and on everything, making it all look festive. Hawkers were selling anything and everything Mexican to make a buck from the tourists, as canned music blared from loud speakers. Chico waved to a few of them and before they came anywhere near the border, he had JT turn off and follow him down a side road, heading back east towards the hills.

On and on, the road wound through the rising foothills, the road getting worse in its state of repair, the further they rode. Chico turned right down a dirt road, the afternoon sun on their backs, casting long shadows of elongated shapes of them, over the craggy hillside. Slowly and carefully, each rider maintained his balance, as they avoided potholes and loose gravel patches. Just when things looked like the road was no longer able to be traversed, Chico slowed right down and rode in first gear, heading on to a trail only able to handle a two wheeled vehicle. The guys became nervous, any mistake and their bikes would face damages that could stop them dead. Jagged rocks along the sides came perilously close to ripping into the casings, or puncture the tanks and tires. Chico rode it like it was a wide open street, knowing it so well.

When it looked like they would be riding on virgin ground, Chico pulled to a stop in a small clearing and cut his engine. The sliver of orange streaked over the horizon, a bright spot of red in the middle, sinking down past the mountain tops, as they all shut the engines off and stood in the bleak wilderness. Bodies were stretched and relieved of the aches, after riding for so long. Chico gave a shrill whistle, sounding much like a bird, then a minute or so later, a similar whistle was returned. Chico smiled and led the guys down the hill a hundred feet, to another small clearing amongst the brush.

He pointed across the border, to an area similar to what they were in. The guys strained to see in the slanting light and saw a pick up truck, painted almost the same colour as the desert floor, blending in to look invisible. Two men stood in the bed and waved to Chico. They shouted in Spanish and then the two men began raising something on the back of the pick up.

“Okay guys. Get ready to catch some dope.”

They had no idea what Chico was talking about, then he had them look at the pair on the truck again. They had raised something that looked like a large letter Y. One of them slipped a band across both sides and Chico readied himself. One of the men pulled back hard and aimed, then released the package. The projectile soared up on a sweeping arc, travelling over two hundred feet, before Chico caught it like a football and put it on the ground. The guys immediately understood what was happening and it instantly became a game of catch, all of them readied for the next package coming over. They carried their catch to the bikes and filled their bags, each one holding more than enough pot to put them away in jail, for a very long time.

One by one, the kilo packages came sailing over to them, until there were no more. When all of them were over, the two men dismantled the makeshift slingshot and laid it in the truck bed again, covering it with a tarp. They just started shouting something over to them, when one held the other's arm and they both stopped and listened. In a second, three shrill whistles were given and they jumped out and began cutting branches off the brush around the truck and laid it over it. Chico knew what the signal was for and he too sprung into action. His knife was out and he was slashing off small branches as fast as he could.

“Plane. Cover your bikes. Border patrol spots us, we're fucked, man.”

The guys needed nothing more to get them moving. Before the single engine plane was almost in sight, the truck and the bikes were covered with brush and the guys were taking cover under the trees, the others lying under their truck. The sound became louder and louder and they knew the plane was close, almost overhead. It was moving as slow as it could to stay aloft, but the passenger was constantly scanning the border area with binoculars, looking for any signs of infiltration.

When the plane passed over head and began moving away, Chico cautioned them to stay put, until it was out of sight. As the sound faded, Chico and his cousin knew enough to get out of the area as fast as they could, the return flight coming in half an hour after re-fuelling. The bikes were cleared off and the bags stuffed with the last few kilos of marijuana. Once the last one was stashed and the bag shut, the bikes were started and Chico waved to his cousin and friend across the border and they waved back, as they drove away, back to the homestead and the plantation of sweet, green cash, growing in the fields. Chico switched his headlight on, the others following suit, as they paced their way slowly along the treacherous path way.

Keith was threading his way behind Lenny, when he wobbled slightly on a rock, throwing his balance off. His bike only veered to the right slightly, but it was enough to catch his shin between the engine block and the rock jutting out. Keith felt the pain hit and jammed on his brakes, doing his best to lean it towards his good leg. The guys stopped to see what happened and got off their bikes, seeing Keith having a hard time holding up his bike and dealing with the pain of what happened.

With no other choice, Keith had them put his bike on the stand and they helped him walk the rest of the way down the trail, to the dirt road. JT was understanding how difficult it was for someone to get to where they were and the reason they went there, but he couldn't risk having his guys getting hurt on every run like this. JT went back and rode Keith's bike off the trail and parked it beside his, the others following behind him. Keith pulled up his pant leg slowly, exposing the site of his injury. Blood was soaking his pants, but it was unknown how bad the cut was. When it was bared, the guys used headlights to provide enough light to adequately assess the damage to him. Luckily, it wasn't broken, but the contusion was already swelling and beginning to take on a nasty look to it. Chico took off his bandana and wrapped it around the gash on Keith's leg, making him wince and utter oaths to God and Jesus, but it stemmed the flow of blood.

Once they had Keith attended to, JT discussed the issue with Chico and said they would have to remove some of the rocks, so this didn't happen again. Chico was about to defend himself and blame it on Keith's inability to ride as well as him, but caught himself, as he looked at his brothers, wearing the same cut as him and realized he had a responsibility to them.

“Sorry, JT. Next time we come down, we'll make it easier to get there. It's just, I know it like the back of my hand, you know? We picked it because it was going to take a good rider to get back there. I made the trail, amigo. I started that over a year ago, riding over shit, until I had a path to that spot. Not a bad idea, eh, muchacho?”

JT could see Chico was proud of what they had developed as an effective method of getting the marijuana across the border. It was secretive and quiet, except for the rumble of their bikes, that he imagined carried far off and might give them away. One bike was one thing, but six, or more, was going to create a problem and JT knew it.

“It's great, Chico. It's a good idea. I have some ideas I need to talk to you about though, when we get back. Speaking of which, it's getting dark now and Keith needs some better care for his leg. Maybe we should hang out down here and start back in the morning.”

“Yeah, maybe we should, JT. I know a place to go that's close, been there a couple times myself to get patched up. I have to see Marietta as well and see how she is. Fucking Joe, that cocksucker, if he fires her for this, I'll kick his ass, man. He treats her like shit.”

JT could see the emotion in Chico's eyes, when he spoke of Marietta and knew he cared for her greatly. He calmed down and looked at everyone, looking back at him with a sense of dis-ease on their faces and changed back to a smile. Hot-blooded Latin, or not. Chico had a side to him that went beyond traditional stereotyping.

“Okay, I know a good place to go for the night. Clean beds and a shower. We need to bring the shit inside with us, too. Can't be leaving that out for the fuckers to steal.”

“True, Chico. Okay, you lead the way back and take us to the clinic, so we can get Keith patched up, then we'll head to the place you know about and sleep it off.”

“Okay, let's get going, you know, that plane is coming back soon and we have to be out of here.”

JT got everyone ready to ride and checked on Keith, still nursing his leg to stand on it, but he got on his bike, after Lenny started it for him. JT got on his bike and everyone started them up, then Chico led them out and back along the same derelict road they came in on. Finally, making it on to a better paved road, the guys started relaxing again, able to ride without worry of damage or injury. Throttles were twisted around, bringing the speed up and the formation began.

Chico rode beside JT, helping lead the way to the clinic, that was on the outskirts of San Ysidro. The desolate darkness of the back roads, left them in the isolation of their own headlights, as they wound through curving bends, making their way back down the hills to flat land. The appearance of a street light brought civilization to them and faint smiles were worn, knowing the hardest part of it was over now.

San Ysidro was rolling up the carpets and shutting off its lights, by the time the guys rode into town. Chico kept following the same road, as it changed from one name to the next, then finally turned down a side street and pulled into the parking lot, that had a small red cross, flickering on and off, only half the sign that denoted the place, San Ysidro Free Clinic, was lighting up. The guys parked their bikes and helped Keith with his, then helped him off of it. JT slung Keith's arm over his shoulders and bore his weight, as they helped Keith hobble inside.

The nurse behind the counter took a look at them and tried to veil her thoughts of them. They got Keith to the counter and told her what was wrong with him, so she went and got a wheel chair for him to sit in, then began asking all the necessary questions, to fill out the forms. The guys were more concerned with getting Keith attended to, than going through the bureaucratic system the clinic used. The nurse gave them a look that quelled anymore backtalk and they left her to her work.

“JT, go get the guys set up with rooms and make sure you get one for me, will ya. I'll be here for a while with this lovely lady, so I will. Won't I, love?”

The nurse clearly enjoyed Keith's accent and his flirtatious manner towards her.

“Yes he will. He needs X-rays and the doctor is busy tonight, so it will be a while, before he can see him. There's at least five or six patients ahead of him and if someone comes in that is need of more serious care, he'll get bumped behind that one.”

The guys almost started protesting, but two things stopped them from going any further. The first was the stern look on the nurse's face, that said if they argued about it, they were going somewhere else for treatment. The second was Keith's face, clearly expressing his desire that they leave, so he and Nurse Crenshaw, could be better acquainted. JT herded the guys out of the waiting area and back to the bikes, as Keith smiled past the pain at the mid-thirties brunette, as she moved a bit closer and crossed her legs, continuing to write down his information.

By the time he was being put onto a gurney, nurse Nancy Crenshaw was enamoured with the Celtic charmer and pulled the curtain right around them. As she assisted him in undressing and getting a gown for him, maybe it was a mistake and maybe it wasn't, but he knew the size of the gown she gave him, was far too short on him, barely making it down to his thighs, or closing in the back and covering his bare arse. She helped him onto the bed and left him no choice, but to 'innocently' expose himself to her, as he lay down. He could have sworn he heard her purr, before she covered him with a sheet, keeping his injured leg exposed to the waist. He tried to see where her eyes were looking at and his crotch seemed to be the general direction they were always focused on.

As a tease, he squeezed his ass cheeks and raised his hips up slightly, causing the sheet to outline his package better. Keith definitely heard her breathe in deeply and almost sigh, as she breathed out. When the doctor arrived, all flirtation was off and the nurse stood to the side, as the elderly man began looking at his chart and then at his leg. Amorous thoughts were obliterated, as the doctor began moving his leg around and probing the injured area.

Chico pulled into the parking lot of the El Rancho Vega motel, riding up to the main office. The bright neon colours spelled out the name and also lit up one word they hoped to see, vacancy. He told JT to wait and then took off his cut this time, his face showing the regret of doing it, but they knew it was more important to get rooms, than fight against bias and discrimination. He went in and began with his smile and a warm Latin welcome to the man behind the desk. The guys sat waiting, wondering if the man would come out and tell them to get lost, then Chico came back out to them. He said they should hide the cuts for now, as Jose inside, was already against bikers, but Chico's long standing of using his rooms, got them a pass. Chico sat with the cuts and waited, until they started coming back out. Chico went in and paid for all the rooms and thanked his friend graciously, maintaining his good standing.

Chico showed them to the rooms and they rode down to the end three units and parked in front. They took the bags off and carried them inside, putting them close to them, under the beds. Chico said he had to take off and go see Marietta, before they left in the morning, so he made sure they knew how to get back to the clinic okay, then hugged each man, before getting on his bike and headed towards Bakersfield.

Chico had every intention of making up time to travel over two hundred miles, what ever way he could. The moment he was upright, coming off the on ramp onto I-5 north, he twisted his throttle wide open and the Harley belched out the V twin's happiness to play along. Chico couldn't even read the blurry numbers on his speedometer, as it started closing in on one hundred MPH. He leaned forward, cutting down on his drag and let the bike pick where it wanted to run happily.

The Los Angeles section had him lose some precious minutes, keeping it just above the speed limit, but pushing it every chance he felt he could get away with it. The night air was cool and rushed through his hair, blowing it back behind him, as he continued to wear his shades to block the wind. Once he was away from the core and the bright highway lights, his hand twisted towards him more and more, slowly climbing up in speed to where he needed to be. The signs for Bakersfield came up and Chico headed onto SR99 and the western side of town. The cheap motel wasn't all that great to look at, but Marietta was happy to have it and was able to save some money staying there, hoping one day to be heading north to Berkeley and going to school.

He pulled into the lot and went towards her unit, noticing the lights on and smiled that she was in and awake. He got off his bike and knocked at the door, then saw the curtain open and close quickly, before the lock was opened and she opened the door to him. The smile he had for her began fading quickly, as he saw the state of her face. The more the light was cast upon it, the more Chico could see the bruises and black eye, as well as the split on her lip and swelling gum line.

His face was a mix of rage and sadness, not knowing which to feel first. Marietta moved to the centre of the room and stood nervously. Chico came to her and gently held her to him, not wanting to cause her any more pain. Marietta assured him he could hold her, as she clung to him tightly and began sobbing hard on his chest. Chico kissed and stroked her hair, unsure of where to start on what happened. Marietta spared him the confusion to decide and opened up.

“It was Joe and two of the other guys, the ones who were at the counter. You left with the gang and when the other people left the restaurant, they took me in the back and did this to me. They said it was all my fault and called me a cheap, Mexican puta, a cono. They...they...raped me, Chico, all three of them.”

Marietta couldn't go on any more, breaking down and clinging to Chico desperately, hoping he wouldn't turn her away in shame and disgrace. Instead, she felt his arms hold her tighter to him, assuring her, she was still wanted by him and cared for. Chico sat her on the bed and calmed her down, so he could have a better look at her. He wanted to take her to the hospital, but she refused and wouldn't even entertain the idea of filing a police report against them. She was in fear of her life and he knew she only wanted to be away from there and end the terror.

He was beside himself on what to do and knew in his heart, only one thing would satisfy his blood lust for payback, Joe. He told Marietta he needed to take care of something and she held onto him, knowing he was bent on revenge. He broke away gently, trying to assure her he wasn't going to do anything to get into trouble and would be back for her shortly.

“Pack what you need, Marietta, I'm taking you back with me. I have a place you can stay and be safe. It won't be hard to get a job, I promise. I'll take good care of you, mi corazon, I swear.”

Marietta held him with all her being, as she heard him say what her heart needed to hear. Whether it was all true or not, she felt more at peace after hearing it. She wanted to kiss him, but her lips were barely healed shut and painfully swollen. He kissed what he could of her face with passion and said he'd be back in an hour, or so. He walked out and got on his bike, his face turned away from Marietta, his expression becoming one of pure hate and malice. He wore that expression, until he pulled into a station and up to the booth. He grabbed a plastic gas can and filled it up, then left it beside his bike, while he went in to pay for it, explaining that a fellow rider ran out of gas, way back at the junction. He felt that gave him a plausible cover story, as he left and held the tank in his lap, riding back out and on towards the diner.

He killed the engine and coasted as far as he could, before he stopped and pulled his bike off the road. He leaned it on the stand and took the gas can and looked for anyone about. The station was closed, as was the diner, but the lights above the diner, told Chico, that Joe was home and awake. He spotted two cars around the side and smiled, knowing they belonged to Hank and Doug, his two fat buddies he hung out with and played poker together, just like a night like tonight. He went to them and looked at the window above them, then back at the cars.

He opened the door to both cars and liberally poured gas in them, then he began circling the areas where there was a means of escape. He poured a good amount up and down the staircase, doing his best not to make any creaking sounds and finally finished the can off, trailing a line away from the building towards his bike. He looked at the place with the men inside and lit his lighter, bending down to the ground. He dropped the lighter into the liquid and it erupted into a flame, moving quickly along the line of gas. He kicked it away and put it out, stuffing it in his pocket again.

Chico got on his bike and fired it up, watching the fire begin to catch on the wood siding of the building and stairs, the flames racing up the sides and covering the windows. He waited long enough to see the door open, then close quickly again, knowing they had no means of escape, then pulled out onto the road and opened the throttle wide, leaving the event to play out as he hoped.

Before he pulled onto Panama Lane again, he looked back and saw the night sky aglow with the blaze from the flames, then the first explosion rocked through the air to him, then the second one. The burning cars provided added colour to the inky blackness, as Chico rode back to see Marietta. He was miles away, when he heard the first siren responding to a call, then the propane gas tanks at the back sent out a deafening blast, the fireball roiling into a living mushroom, as it rose into the night sky. That made his face set a little looser, but the look was of pure vengeance served, as a small smile curled his lips, feeling the traces of the blast wave hit him.