Part 5

Jake

Hours later, Jake pulled into the driveway of his new house in West Reading, Pennsylvania. He’d chosen it for a reason. He had debts to repay, debts that didn’t cost money. He’d made friends in prison, friends that had saved his life.

Jake climbed out of his truck, and stretched his arms over his head. The house was a single story, not much to look at, and situated at the end of the cul-de-sac. The house definitely needed work, but it’s what he wanted. He needed something to occupy his time while he made his next moves.

He’d eaten on the road and bought basic groceries when he’d entered Reading. He wasn’t hungry, just tired and he really wanted a hot shower. He grabbed everything he’d brought with him and lugged it up to the house.

The inside of the house was bare, except for a king size bed in the master bedroom. He’d take his time to furnish the house because he wasn’t planning on moving soon. Reading would be his new home. The house had potential, but it was something he’d worry about later.

For the first time in five years, Jake took a scalding shower alone. It felt almost odd and the shower seemed almost too small. He clenched his eyes shut, knowing it would take time to adjust to the outside world again. When he fell on his bed, he was dead to the world.

It was comfortable, the memory foam molding to his frame, and he sighed in his sleep. Haunting images featured as the main attraction in his dreams, and he woke twice during the night, sweat coating his forehead and his breathing ragged.

The next morning, he ate breakfast at the local diner, and headed in the direction of Shillington. The Road Warriors MC had a clubhouse located a few miles outside of the city and Jake was headed toward it. He owed his life to Rancid, his cellmate in prison. The man had taken a shiv for him, had died for him, and he owed a debt so huge to his club for their protection, that he’d chosen Reading to start his new life in.

Jake pulled to a stop in front of a large steel gate and lowered his window as a man walked toward him.

“Can I help you, civilian?” The look on his face was stoic, his tone of voice almost rude. Jake didn’t like him, but these were Rancid’s people. He was the unknown factor here, and this man was probably just doing his job.

“I’m here to see Bandit,” Jake said.

The man’s expression didn’t change, and the patch on his cut read ‘Goat’. Jake wasn’t sure he wanted to know how he’d gotten that road name.

“Who are you?” Goat asked him.

Jake smiled. “Wrath.” Rancid had given him the name after he shivved the inmate that had gone after one of their friends. He’d done it cleanly, in the shower line and nobody had seen him. He was pissed off and from then on, he had a new name too.

“Yeah, Bandit’s expecting you,” Goat said, and opened the gate. “Follow the dirt road and park on the side. No cages in front of the clubhouse.”

Jake drove through the opening, and followed the dirt road. The Warriors had bought farmland on the outskirts of town and established their place in Pennsylvania. The clubhouse was large, the size of at least five barns put together and spread deep to the back.

He parked the Raptor next to the clubhouse and got out. He wasn’t sure what to expect, but Bandit had been in contact after Rancid’s death. He’d had protection in prison after he was nearly beaten to death in his own cell.

“Wrath?” Jake lifted his head, forcing away the memories that would always haunt him.

“Yeah.”

“I’m K-9, Road Captain. Welcome to the Road Warriors,” he said, and extended his hand.

Jake shook his hand and followed him inside the clubhouse. It was airy and light, large windows opened the space and on the left side, the bar extended across the whole wall. Two men were seated at a booth with cups of coffee in front of them.

“Bandit, Wrath’s here,” K-9 said.

“Wrath, glad you made it,” Bandit said. He was a big man with a wild beard, crow’s feet at the edges of his eyes and an easy smile.

“Glad to be here,” Jake said and shook the man’s hand.

“You met K-9. This is Nitro, my VP,” Bandit said.

A group of four women walked toward their table from the back and one smiled at Jake. “This a new prospect, Prez? He’s fine.”

Nitro shook his head and placed one hand on her ass. “Get gone, the grownups are talking business.”

“I was just asking if he wanted some initiation fun,” the blonde woman said.

“He’s friendly, not a prospect. Now scram,” Bandit said with authority.

The women moved to the front door quickly, and Jake smiled at their hasty dismissal. He needed to get laid, sooner rather than later. Five years was a long time.

“Weasel! Get us some drinks over here!” Bandit yelled. The man behind the bar, Weasel, brought over four beers and placed them on the table. He had a large patch on his back that read, ‘Prospect’. Jake didn’t want to join the club, but he’d be involved as much as Bandit allowed it.

“How’d you get the name, Wrath?” K-9 asked him.

“Shivved the man that went after Rancid,” Jake said.

“It doesn’t matter what you did. Rancid vouched for you and that’s good enough for us. I know what you did in prison for my guys and it’s a debt I’m intent on repaying,” Bandit said.

“The debt’s mine, Bandit. Rancid saved my life. It’s why I’m here, to repay the favor,” Jake said.

Bandit looked over at Nitro, the VP, and nodded his head. “Rancid left you something.”

Nitro stood up and walked to the back of the room and opened a door. He disappeared inside and returned a few minutes later with a large box, one that would hold an expensive dress. He placed the box on the table in front of Jake and sat down again.

Jake opened the box and pulled out the black leather jacket. It felt heavy in his hands and he turned it over. On the back, etched onto the leather, was a burning phoenix with his road name, ‘Wrath’, beneath it. Jake swallowed the lump away and looked at Bandit.

“Fucking Rancid,” he said, and everyone burst out laughing.