“I’m not sure. I’m still fast when I need to be. I can still take a bullet, a punch. I can still lift, but I’m not like the guys in the club.”
“Are they vampires?”
“Some. Some are werewolves. Some are demons.”
David dropped the cigarette that was burning his fingers. “What have you gotten yourself into?”
“I don’t know.” He finished the cigarette and put it in the bucket of sand on the side of David. “It’s why I had to leave. I had to think.”
David lit up another cigarette. “I envy you sometimes.”
“Why?” Bomber folded his arms across his chest.
“You’re free. You can go anywhere you want.”
“Ever think I envy you, Junior?” Bomber looked straight at him. “You’re the only normal one out of all of us.”
David smoked quietly. “How long are you staying?”
“I think I better go see Pa before he kicks the bucket.”
“He might not remember you. They said he has Alzheimer’s too.”
“Oh, I’ll make sure he remembers me.”
David looked at Bomber, who had a firm look on his face. “Bruce, don’t do anything to hurt him.”
“I won’t.”
“He tried to raise us the best he could.”
“Some of us rose above the shit we were raised in. I wasn’t one of them.”
“You were in Desert Storm, you got a Purple Heart–”
“Like that meant anything.”
“Davey was proud of you.”
He snorted. “And Sam wants to try and kick my ass for shits and giggles?”
“You used to play-wrestle him when he was a kid.”
“So now he wants to do it for real? I might hurt him.”
David took a drag. “I know.”
“And I don’t do that shit. I got it beat out of me when I was thirteen.”
David glanced at Bomber and then looked down. “He really beat the shit out of you that day. I remember that.”
“Surprised I’m not dead,” Bomber said. “I’m just like him, eh? Tough as old leather.” He turned without looking at his brother and went back into the house.
It was nearly two in the morning when he heard the door to the spare room open. He put a hand on the gun but stayed perfectly still.
“Uncle Mickey?”
His eyes snapped open. “Sue?” He turned around in the twin bed and looked at his niece. He flipped on the light and saw that she was dressed only in a robe that barely came to her thighs. He stared at her, his eyes traveling up to hers.
He said quietly, hoping his voice didn’t betray his heat, “What are you doing here?”
She dropped the robe. She was naked beneath. His eyes widened, his mouth dropped, and his erection jumped. She walked over and shut off the light, then bent down and kissed him. She wasn’t a bad kisser, Bomber thought, a little inexperienced. His hands involuntarily went to her perky breasts, and she moaned.
What the hell was he doing? But she was so cute, so innocent…she was sixteen! Her breasts were soft, big enough to fill his hand…she was his niece! She would do anything he said, she’d respond the way he wanted. It was perfect, just perfect.
“Uncle Mickey,” she said huskily, “I want you to take me.”
That pushed him over the edge. He got up, and pushed her toward the bed. He pulled down his boxers and said, “One thing.”
“What?”
He climbed on top of her. “Don’t call me uncle.”
Day 3, Tuesday
I popped my own niece’s cherry.
He stared at the ceiling. It was six, and the house was stirring. He was lucky if he got an hour’s sleep. After two rounds for him, four for her, she finally went back to her room at his insistence. The room permeated of sex, and he hoped his brother didn’t have his nose.
Bomber got up and threw open the window, breathing in the fall air. Willmington was far enough south that the air wasn’t cold. He could still smell the sea. He took deep gulps of air and sat on the windowsill, looking out at the back yard. He saw smelled cigarette smoke coming out from under the patio overhang.
He went to his GPS and punched in the distance to Jacksonville, Florida. Seven hours, without traffic. He wore the same clothes he had the day before, heading to the bike to get a new set.
He bumped into Carol on the way back in. “Mind if I take a shower?”
“Not at all. Staying a couple of days?”
“No, I’d better get started south. I don’t know what’s going to happen to Pa and I want to see him before he passes on.”
Carol put a hand on Bomber’s arm. “I know. All right. You’re always welcome here, Mickey.”
He smiled at her. “Thanks.” He kissed her cheek and watched her walk in the heels. David was damn lucky.
David was in business casual and was carrying a briefcase when he walked in. “Sue’s not feeling too well,” he said.
“‘sokay,” Bomber said. “I’m just gonna take a shower an’ steal some breakfast, then I’ll be on my way.”
“Stay a couple of days. It won’t hurt.”
“Nah.” He scribbled a number on a piece of paper. “Call me if anything happens to Pa.”
“I will.” David hugged him. “Can I use your bike to drive into work?”
“Ride. You ride a bike. And no.”
David chuckled, “Didn’t think so.”
“You can be my bitch.”
“Oh no, no, no,” David laughed and blushed at the same time.
Bomber smiled and looked down. “Sorry, the biker in me came out.”
David patted his upper arm. “It’s okay, man. Take it easy, okay? Come back for Christmas or something.”
“I might.”
“See you later.”
“Later.”
Bomber watched him go, and took his clothes upstairs. He went into the bathroom, leaving it unlocked. After turning on the water, he stripped down. He climbed into the shower sighing at the warm water. Then he heard the door open. He smiled as the shower door parted, and Sue stood there, naked again.
“I’m outta rubbers, sweets,” he said.
She held up a foil packet. “Sam has plenty. He never gets any.”
“Then get that ass in here.”
She couldn’t walk straight, and he smiled at that. If she could be insatiable, he could be relentless. He climbed on the bike as she stood in the doorway in tight jeans and a t-shirt that had an old iconic Wonder Woman logo on it. He started it up, and glanced at her. She waved demurely.
He blew a kiss at her and pulled out of the driveway. She was definately worth it.
He got onto the highway a little after noon. He’d make Jacksonville in time to get a hotel.
The room was more like a closet. But those were the breaks when you were looking for a hotel that didn’t ask for ID. A few roaches scurried out of the light when he put it on. He carried his bags into the room and set them on the bed after checking them for bedbugs. If he could get three hours’ sleep and take an Italian shower, he’d be fine. He could always drink the vitae to keep him going, but he was down to one and a half bottles already.
He tried the TV and found it pumped in porn. That was acceptable, as he moved the bags to the dresser and lay on the bed fully clothed.
Someone knocked. He went to the door and opened it. A girl and a boy, in their 20’s and looking worse for wear, stood there. “Hey, man…” said the guy, “were wonderin’ if you wanted a hit?” He held out a joint.
“How much?” Bomber asked.
“Twenty.”
“No thanks.” He started to shut the door, but the girl put her foot in, and stepped close to him. She ran her hands down his chest. “We have other services,” she said.
He looked down at her and smiled. “Do ya, now? Both of you?”
“If you want,” said the boy.
He let the door swing wide.
He was just getting started on the girl when he saw the boy moving to get behind him. Maybe he was going to start on him from the rear, but then he felt a knife in his side. He rolled off the girl, and the knife was pulled out. The boy raised the knife high, and Bomber kicked the boy’s legs out from under him. The knife went low, into Bomber’s gut instead, and he heard the girl moving along the bed to her clothes.
Bomber got up, twisting the knife out of the boy’s hands and holding it to his throat. He turned his head to the side to see the girl holding a pea-shooter at his head. He smelled the fear coming off her in waves – she wouldn’t shoot unless she had to.
“Trying to roll me over, eh?” Bomber said, and picked up the boy by the throat. He slowly stood, effortlessly holding the boy a few inches off the ground. “You picked the wrong guy.”
He turned to the girl. “Put that gun down and get your ass on the bed.”
She still held the gun, though she was shaking. Bomber shrugged. “Okay, the hard way, then.” He lashed out and punched her in the face.
She cried out, dropping the gun and her hands went to her now broken nose. He slapped her hard, sending her into the bed, and then he threw the boy so he was bent over the headboard of the bed, the edge of it cutting painfully into his abdomen so he couldn’t breathe well.
He picked up the gun, held it steady at the girl, and started to pound the boy.
Day 4, Wednesday
He got no sleep. He couldn’t really sleep with two dead bodies in the bed. He crawled out of the hotel at four in the morning and changed his clothes on the road.
He pulled into the parking lot of a small breakfast nook in the southern part of Jacksonville. The place looked like a mom & pop, full mostly of retirees who probably woke up at five and the first thing they did was head to the place that opened up at six.
The clock on the wall said 5:40 and the sun was just coming up the horizon when he walked into the place. He got stares, but he really didn’t care. He was exhausted and hungry. The vitae called him and he tried not to listen to that siren.
Wordlessly, an older lady came over with a pot and poured him a cup. “Thank y’ kindly,” he said, reverting to the Georgia accent he had picked up from a guy in his platoon.
She smiled. “Menus are right there,” she pointed to a laminated piece of paper against the wall.
He was ready to eat everything on it, but he kept himself down to the Lumberjack, which was, basically, everything. He also ordered extra bacon. However, he didn’t expect the extra bacon to come walking in, in the guise of two boys in blue.
Bomber took his glasses and olive drab jacket off so he wouldn’t look quite as much like a thug. They scanned the room and lit on Bomber for a second more than anyone else. Bomber pulled out his iPhone and made himself look like he was playing with it.
“Brad, Chip, how’s it going?”
“Good, Louise. The usual.”
Louise nodded and busied herself. The cops kept looking at him. He got his breakfast and ate without looking at them. He didn’t want to start trouble, especially with the law. If they ever called up his record, he’d be in jail for months.
He finished, left a sizable tip, and got up. The two cops also got up. He put his glasses and coat back on, and headed to the door. The cops intercepted, one in front, the other moving to the side where he had an escape route.
“That your bike?” said one.
“Yes,” he said, assuming the more formal tone he used for his superiors.
“What year is it?”
“A modified 1947 Indian.”
“Mind if I look at it?”
“Not at all.”
The two cops followed him out. Bomber let them examine the outside of the bike, knowing they were looking for drugs or weapons. All his weapons and the vitae were in his bags.
“What’s in here?” the one who hadn’t spoke asked.
“My stuff.”
“Like what?”
“My clothes. My GPS.”
“Care to open it?”
Bomber folded his arms across his chest. “Is this a search, gentlemen?”
The cop lifted the flap of the bags to see a padlock on its zippers. “I think you should unlock this.”
“And what if I don’t?”
“We’ll blow it off.”
“I do not acquiesce to this search, gentlemen.” He walked by the cops and got on his bike, and rose to kickstart it. “Take it up with my lawyer.”
He heard the guns before he came down and got the bike started. He chose to ignore them, as he revved the engine, got it in first gear and took off down the street.
He was upset with himself that he now had the law on his tail. He wove in and out of streets and between cars, glancing behind him to see the police hot on his tail. He wasn’t ready to perform crazy stunts to get out of this. He just needed to get out of Jacksonville and head to his sister’s house.
He saw a bunch of guys on bikes at an intersection. He stopped in front of them. “I got a pack of pigs after me, can I ride with you?”
The leader glanced down the street to see three cops coming up a rise. “Get in.”
Bomber moved in among the group, and noticed their colors: Warlocks. God was smiling down on him today.
The light changed, but the cops barrelled through the intersection in front of them. They watched the four cars go by, and waited for the light to change again.
Bomber rode with them until they stopped in front of someone’s house. They dismounted, watching him warily. He remained on the bike. The leader came over.
“Whaddaya want for payment?” Bomber asked.
“Whatchu got?”
“Some guns.”
He motioned. Bomber dismounted and opened his bag. He stepped aside to let the leader search for the guns.
The leader waved a hand and another guy came to look in the bags. He pulled out the Glock and a couple of boxes of ammo. The leader took the Glock and checked it over. “Nice. Filed.”
“Yeah,” Bomber said, watching the other .44 come out from the depths of his bag.
Words: 2471
Inspiration:
literotica.com
Rush – Big Audio Dynamite
Stereotypical example of cops intruding.