The Gypsy Trail: The Heretic Short Story #3

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The Gypsy Trail

A Heretic Motorcycle Club Short Story 3

Traylor Grant

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Dedication:
To my readers.

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Acknowledgments

A huge thanks to Kim Williams

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The Gypsy Trail

My boat was anchored to the pier. It had been a great day. Beer, fishing, and Sugar sitting beside me. As perfect as it could be without riding my HOG. Yeah, I love riding motorcycles. Who am I kidding? I live to ride and ride to live. There’s nothing better than the thrumming of the engine between my legs, or the roar as I speed down the

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highway, feeling the sun on my skin and the wind in my hair. But, fishing comes a close second. If I can’t ride I can fish. I own a little bait and tackle shop right on the lake.
“Wolf? You want that I should fry up them fish? You caught quite a passel and I figure we could sell some fish and fries to fishermen not as good as you.”
Oh how I love the soft twang of her southern accent and her sun kissed blonde hair. She smelled of sun, sea, and sand. A little bit of heaven, she was mine. How she ever came to love a sinner such as me I’ll never know. Sugar soothed the savage in me like nothing but my sled could do. Oh yeah, if I couldn’t ride my HOG, I at least had Sugar. With my Sugar, my bike, and my bait shop I was wealthy. I had love, my ride, and food. A fella like me couldn’t ask for more.
“Sure, hun. Go right ahead. I’ll just clean these last few here. Can’t wait to taste your cookin’. Nothing better than my Sugar’s sweet corn bread, fries, and a mess of fish.

I had Sugar until the sonofabitch that killed her came along.
One day I was relaxing at the lake. I had a bucket of fish to clean and a cold beer in my hand. The mountains in clear view looking pristine. The next day I’m on a mission to save a soul.
How it went so terribly wrong, I’ll never know for certain. The dude holding up a gas station outside Sedona. He was going to be shot by the station owner. We were to give him a second chance. Instead, I got in the way of the shooter and killed the sorry bastard. The cops came roaring in so fast, it had to be a set up. Only thing is, the guy being framed wasn’t supposed to be me. It was the gas station owner.

***

“Don’t cry for me, baby.” I gently grasped the sides of her face. My calloused thumbs stroked her cheeks as I gazed into her brown eyes. “Time will pass quickly. Before you know it, I’ll be back holding you in my arms like this nightmare never happened.”
I was lying and knew it. I would never again see her lovely face or hold her close.
“Why you? You didn’t cause this. You didn’t do anything wrong.” Her voice choked on tears.
“Oh baby, I done plenty wrong. But it’ll work out in the end. Live your life with no regrets sweetie. Don’t wait around pining for me.”
“You sound like you aren’t coming back. The lawyer said…”
“Hush, my love. Let’s not spend our remaining minutes talking about the law. It will be what it will. Either I’ll get the death penalty overturned or I won’t. Regardless, I’ll be back for you. All you have to do is call my name.”
My sentencing was a joke. Even my lawyer thought they had railroaded me into taking the fall for Purgatory’s favorite son; the mayor’s boy. Thirty days afterward they strapped me to a table and shot me full of the lethal stuff, sending me to my maker.
They didn’t know the Heretics came to salvage my soul. I willingly joined their ranks for a second chance.

***

We were riding hard across the Arizona desert lands when I heard her call.
“Wolf, if I ever needed you before, I sure need you now.”
Sugar. She was in trouble. I had to get home to save her. Only, I was too late. I came across a news report about the brutal murder of a woman at a bait shop in Utopia, the town I headed to where Sugar was waiting for me.

I sat straddling my HOG and looked down the stretch of highway. The cracked asphalt gave indication very few people traveled this route. Just past Las Vegas I headed west on Highway 15 toward Overton, Utah. Nine o’clock in the morning and the sun already cast blistering rays making the temperature a roasting ninety degrees. Hit one hundred before sundown, I speculated as I took a final drag from my joint. I dropped the remainder on the caked dirt by the side of the road and ground the heel of my boot over it until the ashes were out.
Even in this heat, the open road called to me, singing it’s lullaby of freedom, adventure, and nefarious deeds enticing enough to lure a privateer or highway man. I loved riding the steel horse with the full throttle roar of the engines screaming out their pulse raising song. There’s nothing better than feeling the wind whistling past your face as you ride eating up the pavement, splitting lanes when encountering traffic.
Name’s Wolf and I’m as bad as bad can get. Today I was riding to Overton to get the bastard that killed Sugar. I was going to get her a chance at redemption. I didn’t wear the Heretics Defender patch and colors for nothing.
Tango rode directly in front with Crip and Red on either side. Ironhead rode beside me. Then came their old ladies and the remaining four brothers.
Even in this heat a chill coated my body as I thought about how to rescue Sugar from eternal damnation. She was the only woman who ever saw the good side of me. How she managed to do so, I’ll never know. Now she lay in a morgue awaiting rescue. She called my name with her last breath. I heard and answered just as I promised.

***

“Sugar,” I whispered. “I’m coming baby. Daddy’s coming for you girl.”
I tugged my bandana over my nose and mouth. I hated the grit of dessert sand. The stuff was everywhere, even in orifices I thought were safe. It lodged in my eyes, ears, nose, mouth, under my chin, between fingers, inside my Kutte, under sleeves, in my boots. The dang stuff even wedged itself in my groin!
We rode hard and fast. There was a finite amount of time to rescue Sugar’s soul. I hungered for revenge. We ate dust and blew a cloud a mile long as we rocketed down the asphalt highway in our way to Utopia. Destiny awaited.

***

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Utopia isn’t quite the picture of paradise. Rather, it’s dirty, one gas station, a food hardware store, jail, and diner kind of place. Most of the buildings were dilapidated and weary looking clapboard structures like you’d see in a ghost town. Even the houses appeared tired; broken down. The only thing beautiful about the place is the mountains in the background and the crystal clear lake.
The mortician told me Sugar had already been buried. He gave me her grave number and mumbled his condolences.
The cemetery was on the main drag. It held maybe fifty graves going back almost a hundred years. Not bad for a population of one hundred fifty. I could see a recent burial plot from where I sat on my HOG. After setting the kickstand I shook out a smoke. It was Sugar’s resting place.
I dismounted and angled toward the plot. Kneeling beside the sorry excuse for a tombstone, I wiped the dirt away.
Sugar is all the placard said.
“I’m here, babe. Big bad Wolf is here to resurrect you and send that bastard to hell, just like I promised.

It didn’t take long to find pretty boy Willy, the mayor’s son, from Purgatory. I chatted up folks at the diner in town. All were sorry about Sugar and eager to talk. Seems he came to town looking for me. Wanted to go vigilante on me for messing up his plans in Purgatory. Not finding me, he took his justice in Sugar, raping, strangling, and stabbing her to death. Now he sat languishing in the local jail.
I strode into the sheriff’s office and inquired about the murder. The deputy on duty glanced up from the book he was reading and gave me what I wanted to know.
I walked down the row of cells to the last one. It didn’t take much to scare the shit out of him. You see, we Heretics can put on a mighty fearsome disguise. Horns appeared on my forehead. Fangs protruded from my red lips.
“Heard you was lookin’ for me,” I shoved the shades up over my face.
“Wolf. I was looking for Wolf,” he stuttered, backing away from the cell bars until his spine touched the cement wall.
“I’m Wolf,” I growled. My finger nails became talons.
“You’re…you’re not human!” Willy gasped.
“Far from it.” My voice sounded like sandpaper on a wood surface.
“You’re a demon!” He cried.
“You wish,” I smiled. My talons clicked against each other. “I am your judge, jury, and redeemer. You are charged with murdering an innocent woman.”
“She wasn’t no better than trailer trash.”
“She was a decent person who’d have gladly shared what she had if you’d asked her.” I squinted at him.
“She was a whore.” Willy trembled as he spoke. His pale complexion turned pasty.
“An angel, not a whore. I find you guilty of murder without cause.”
“I…I…”
Bolts of electricity shot through my fingers in an arc. The floor beneath Willy dampened with his urine as his bladder let go. “I sentence you to eternity in hell. No redemption for you.” I leisurely reached out with my talon and touched the cement wall just past the iron bars. One touch of anything in his cell was all it took.
His shrieks echoed only within his cell. Flames surrounded him. In seconds he was one crispy critter. “I give you this sinner in exchange for Sugar.”
My horns receded, fangs retreated and my talons became regular finger nails. As I exited the sheriff’s office, I nodded, “Deputy. It’s a fine day for a ride,” I tipped my head in farewell.
I left the jail and made my way back to the grave. Sugar was sitting on a bench beneath a tree. Silently she came to me and straddled the back of my HOG.
As we rode out of town, huge peals of thunder boomed. The clouds grew black as Satan raged overhead. Rain pelted us, soaking the parched ground. Ahead of us lay a two lane highway. Lightning streaked from the heavens.
It was a good day to ride the Gypsy Trail with my HOG humming beneath me, my woman sitting behind me, her arms wrapped around my waist, the wind blowing cooling drops of water, and the scent of rain in the air.

***

Copyright© Traylor Grant 2020 All rights reserved.

The right of Traylor Grant to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 First published by Traylor Grant.

Grant, Traylor, The Gypsy Trail E-book Edition.

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author/publisher.

The Gypsy Trail is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental. All locations except known towns, cities, and those listed at the back of this book are fictitious.

Any errors are entirely made by the author.

Cover photograph purchased at Most Photos.

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Views: 14

Cute story!

Sumangala Kadi

Wednesday 7th of October 2020 03:04:55 PM

Enjoyed reading till the end. Good ending as well.

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Traylor Grant

Writer and Reader user