Karen
It was a hell of a lot brighter outside than I remembered. After the gloomy interior of the biker’s ‘social club’ I had to stand by the entranceway and blink a few times while my eyes adjusted. My sunglasses were at home.
“Let’s go,” said Gauge.
He had insisted we go to my house. He thought maybe I’d dropped the USB drive and we could find it under the chair or something. Bullshit. I would have found it when I was there with the deputy. It had been taken, I was sure of it.
Still, there was a slim possibility that my asshole ex would be there again, and if he was? Well, these bikers were going to be mighty pleased to see him.
I made my way over to my little car and let myself inside. It was ridiculously hot. If I’d had balls I would have been sweating them off. I wound the windows down immediately and set the almost worthless a/c on high.
A few minutes later I was dripping with sweat as I lead a convoy down the quiet highway. Behind and to my right was Bottle, to his left was T-Bone, behind him was Twist and to his right was Gauge.
Usually when I drove with the windows down I couldn’t hear anything except the rush of the wind pouring through my little vehicle, but today the wind’s roar was drowned out by the powerful motorcycle engines which filled the air thick with their growling.
I smiled to myself every time I glanced in the mirror and saw the bikes behind me as I led the procession to my house. It was like leading an army, I thought. A small army, but a tough one. Four cavalry soldiers being led by me in my little Civic. I laughed at the thought of it. I just hoped they were tough enough to deal with him.
When we got there something looked different. The little house I’d begun to think of as home didn’t look that way anymore. Now it looked strange to me, alien. I looked on it with fresher, colder eyes and saw it for what it was: a rundown shit hole. If it wasn’t for the motorcycle in the drive a passerby would guess it was vacant. No curtains, overgrown weeds sprouting around faded paintwork, and random pieces of trash lying in the driveway. Had I ever truly believed I was living here for good? Or did I know he would find me?
The guys didn’t seem to care. They didn’t comment on the sorry state of affairs I was living in. They were more interested in the motorcycle out front, which they confirmed to be Red’s, and that it wasn’t damaged.
I let them inside and showed Bottle and Gauge the bedroom, while Twist grabbed my computer hoping to retrieve the video file.
“So you think you were filmed in here, right? Where was the camera positioned?”
“I... I don’t know. I guess it must have been over there?” I pointed across from the foot of the bed. From the video it must have been over there, at least I thought so. My memory already seemed to be fading, and I couldn’t be sure if I was indicating the right place.
Gauge and Bottle stared at that part of the room. There was a beat up old dresser that I’d inherited from the previous occupant, and behind it a decent sized window. What few clothes I had were shoved inside the drawers of the ancient dresser. Gauge chewed on a toothpick and shook his head as he approached it.
“Here, see?”
I didn’t see. At least, not at first. Bottle and I approached, peering intently. Had someone hidden a camera inside the dresser? I looked at it closely, and thought I saw a hole.
“There?” I asked, indicating with my finger.
Bottle pulled open the drawer revealing four g-strings and a couple of other pairs of less interesting underwear. I felt my cheeks flush red as the two men stared inside the drawer and let out chuckles.
“Not there,” said Gauge, “behind.”
I looked behind, but the only thing there was the rather unremarkable window. “What?”
“You don’t see anything?”
I looked again, and then I saw it. Or rather, I didn’t see it. What we were looking at was a clean patch of glass, much clearer than the glass above it.
“It’s cleaner,” I said rather pointlessly.
“Yep. From the state of the house I’m guessing it wasn’t you who cleaned the glass, right?”
“Hey!” I protested. It wasn’t that bad in here, was it, I thought? I mean I hadn’t decorated much, but I didn’t think it was that dirty. I guessed the other windows could do with a clean though.
Gauge ignored my protest. “So, if you didn’t clean the glass, then someone else did. And that someone is no doubt the same someone that’s been pointing a camera through your window and filming your ass for who the hell knows how long.”
I nodded glumly. It made perfect sense. He must’ve been peering through that window at night, watching me, filming me and God knows what else. I shuddered at the thought of me unknowingly sleeping at night while that bastard peered through the window without me ever knowing.
We stood in silence for a moment, peering through the clean glass of the window at the unhealthy looking bushes, straggly grass and sandy dirt outside. I wasn’t sure, but I thought I could see scratchings in the dirt where someone could have been standing or squatting for considerable periods of time. Our quiet scanning out the window was interrupted when the younger biker returned.
Twist walked in and a broad grin appeared on his face as he looked at the contents of the drawer that still lay open in front of us, before his gaze flashed to me. If looks could kill he would have been one pretty damn sickly boy after the one I gave him.
Bottle smacked Twist on the arm to get his attention. “Anything?”
Twist gave him a blank look.
“The computer, dipshit.”
Sudden comprehension flashed across his face. “Oh yeah!”
“What?”
His comprehending look faltered as apparently he realized Bottle thought he had found something. “Nothing. Zip.”
Gauge just shook his head in disbelief at the young man, before cocking his head.
“You smell that?” he asked
“What?” asked Bottle.
I shook my head, but inhaled as I did so. Actually I did smell something. Something burning in fact.
Twist’s eyebrows shot up his head. “Oh shit! Fire!”
Gauge stalked out the room his military boots thumping across the wooden floor, quickly followed by Twist. I was still staring at my distressed underwear drawer, not entirely sure what to do. Bottle grabbed me by the arm, his fingers again too tight against my flesh. It felt good.
“Let’s get out of here.”
He half-pulled and half-guided me out of the room into the narrow hallway. I could see acrid smoke coming from the kitchen. We paused a moment, to the left was the front door, to the right the source of the fire. Something fell in the kitchen followed by a yelled, “For fucks sake.” A moment later Gauge and Twist emerged, coughing into the hallway. “No extinguisher?” growled the ex-military man.
I shook my head. Who the hell buys a fire extinguisher when they get a new place? Not me at any rate. Where the hell do you buy them anyway, I wondered.
“Shit. Let’s get the hell out. Your kitchen is fucked.”
I nodded and a moment later we piled out the front door, a trail of dark smoke trailing out after us. We stood in the driveway watching my house as the amount of smoke pouring out increased.
“What happened?” asked Twist, gesturing with his arm back to the house.
“Someone’s fucking with us,” growled Bottle.
Twist looked like he was about to speak again, but then there was a whooshing noise and in a flurry of confusion Gauge was herding us all backward with two outstretched arms. We span and ran as one, then fell to the floor together as Gauge gave us a mighty shove.
As we landed on the ground there was a loud bang from inside and the tinkling of glass as every last window in the house burst outward. A moment later there was a loud thunk and crack.
I twisted onto my back and my eyes went wide as I saw what was left of my home. Flames now poured out of the building, and the front door was completely gone. I looked around, puzzled. Where’d it go? I let out a sigh when I finally located it. The cracked wooden piece of wood that was formerly my door was now incongruously embedded in what was left of the windshield of my car, the glass around it spider webbing out crazily and making the entire window look frosted and completely impossible to see through.
“Well, fuck me.” Bottle was sitting up with his knees pulled up in front of him, arms resting atop them, as he shook his head and surveyed the scene.
“I guess I won’t be getting my deposit back, huh?” I found myself giggling at the absurdity of the thought.
“You weren’t joking about your ex being a psycho.”
I pulled myself up to my knees. “Yeah, I know.” I surveyed the wreckage of the first place that was mine and mine alone, the place I’d only had for a couple of weeks. It could never be described as a dream house except by someone like me; for me it had been perfect.