it
perfect for using it during a hit. The truck has a newly rebuilt engine and
transmission, though and that’s what really matters. If Luke and Anton have to
get away fast, they won’t have to worry about it being unreliable and leaving
them stranded somewhere.
As Anton keeps an
eye out for cops or rival bikers, Luke inspects his gun. Earlier in the evening,
he had field stripped it, oiled it down and put it back together again. Now,
sitting in the truck waiting for their mark to come by, Luke is taking apart
and putting back together again that same Heckler and Koch 9mm handgun. He does
it all with his eyes closed, as usual. Scarcely a sound can be heard in the cab
of the Ford, other than the soft metallic clicks as the slide knocks up against
the lower receiver or the loud snap of the magazine being seated. Then with the
push of a button the magazine drops out into Luke’s lap and he begins all over
again.
At 3:40 am, Anton
brings Luke out of his trance by telling him his mark is five minutes out. As
Luke finishes reassembling his H&K for the last time, Anton starts the
engine. Both men roll their windows down.
At exactly 3:49 am,
they hear the lone rumble of a truck coming their way. Two minutes later, they
get a visual on the vehicle. From a block away, it’s impossible to see who is
driving but that really doesn’t matter. There are no other black trucks
anywhere around. They wait five seconds after the truck has passed before they
make their move. With their lights still off, Anton closes the distance between
the two trucks. Just as they get to the perfect distance for the weapon Luke is
using, Anton hits the lights. At that very instant, Luke begins firing short
controlled bursts. The truck veers off to the right and strikes a telephone
pole. Anton comes up right behind the disabled vehicle as Luke is reloading his
weapon. Luke empties it again into the still forms inside the cab. Then he
drops the smoking weapon on the floor by his feet and retrieves a digital
camera. Anton brings their truck around to the side of their victim’s vehicle
and Luke zeros in with his camera and just starts snapping pictures.
At first, his
brain cannot believe what his eyes are telling him. It just can’t be. He drops
the camera in his lap and looks again.
No fucking way! a voice screams in his head. No fucking
way!
“What’s wrong?”
Anton asks.
For an answer,
Luke starts to open the door. He just cannot accept what he is looking at. The
door is locked.
“What are you
doing?” Anton asks.
Luke finally gets
the door unlocked and opens it.
“Wait a second; we
have to get out of—"
Anton puts the
truck in gear. “Luke, get the fuck back in here!”
Luke’s face is
glued to the bloody driver’s side window of the truck’s cab. Slumped against
the door of the Ford truck is his best friend in the world, Carter Jennings.
“Luke!” Anton
calls out to him. “Get back here before the cops come.”
Luke is shivering
in spite of the heat. His heart is pounding. He opens the door and Carter falls
out dead. As if struck by a lightning bolt, Luke feels his knees buckle and stumbles
backwards onto the dusty pavement, where he collapses in grief. He’s vaguely
aware when someone drags him backwards and puts him in the truck. A distant
door closes and an engine roars.
“Where do you want
me to take you, man?”
Luke can’t utter a
word. Carter is dead…Carter is dead…Carter is dead, his inner voice shrieks
over and over again.
“Luke man, really
sorry about your friend, but we gotta go somewhere. You wanna go back to the
clubhouse…probably not.”
Anton decides to
turn around and head to his own house. He’ll figure out what to do from there.
“Shit!” Anton
yells. “What the fuck are you doing?”
Luke has his
H&K in his hands and turns the barrel on himself so that it rests against
his temple.
“Don’t!” Anton screams,
as he slams on the breaks. Luke goes flying out of his seat, striking
perfect for using it during a hit. The truck has a newly rebuilt engine and
transmission, though and that’s what really matters. If Luke and Anton have to
get away fast, they won’t have to worry about it being unreliable and leaving
them stranded somewhere.
As Anton keeps an
eye out for cops or rival bikers, Luke inspects his gun. Earlier in the evening,
he had field stripped it, oiled it down and put it back together again. Now,
sitting in the truck waiting for their mark to come by, Luke is taking apart
and putting back together again that same Heckler and Koch 9mm handgun. He does
it all with his eyes closed, as usual. Scarcely a sound can be heard in the cab
of the Ford, other than the soft metallic clicks as the slide knocks up against
the lower receiver or the loud snap of the magazine being seated. Then with the
push of a button the magazine drops out into Luke’s lap and he begins all over
again.
At 3:40 am, Anton
brings Luke out of his trance by telling him his mark is five minutes out. As
Luke finishes reassembling his H&K for the last time, Anton starts the
engine. Both men roll their windows down.
At exactly 3:49 am,
they hear the lone rumble of a truck coming their way. Two minutes later, they
get a visual on the vehicle. From a block away, it’s impossible to see who is
driving but that really doesn’t matter. There are no other black trucks
anywhere around. They wait five seconds after the truck has passed before they
make their move. With their lights still off, Anton closes the distance between
the two trucks. Just as they get to the perfect distance for the weapon Luke is
using, Anton hits the lights. At that very instant, Luke begins firing short
controlled bursts. The truck veers off to the right and strikes a telephone
pole. Anton comes up right behind the disabled vehicle as Luke is reloading his
weapon. Luke empties it again into the still forms inside the cab. Then he
drops the smoking weapon on the floor by his feet and retrieves a digital
camera. Anton brings their truck around to the side of their victim’s vehicle
and Luke zeros in with his camera and just starts snapping pictures.
At first, his
brain cannot believe what his eyes are telling him. It just can’t be. He drops
the camera in his lap and looks again.
No fucking way! a voice screams in his head. No fucking
way!
“What’s wrong?”
Anton asks.
For an answer,
Luke starts to open the door. He just cannot accept what he is looking at. The
door is locked.
“What are you
doing?” Anton asks.
Luke finally gets
the door unlocked and opens it.
“Wait a second; we
have to get out of—"
Anton puts the
truck in gear. “Luke, get the fuck back in here!”
Luke’s face is
glued to the bloody driver’s side window of the truck’s cab. Slumped against
the door of the Ford truck is his best friend in the world, Carter Jennings.
“Luke!” Anton
calls out to him. “Get back here before the cops come.”
Luke is shivering
in spite of the heat. His heart is pounding. He opens the door and Carter falls
out dead. As if struck by a lightning bolt, Luke feels his knees buckle and stumbles
backwards onto the dusty pavement, where he collapses in grief. He’s vaguely
aware when someone drags him backwards and puts him in the truck. A distant
door closes and an engine roars.
“Where do you want
me to take you, man?”
Luke can’t utter a
word. Carter is dead…Carter is dead…Carter is dead, his inner voice shrieks
over and over again.
“Luke man, really
sorry about your friend, but we gotta go somewhere. You wanna go back to the
clubhouse…probably not.”
Anton decides to
turn around and head to his own house. He’ll figure out what to do from there.
“Shit!” Anton
yells. “What the fuck are you doing?”
Luke has his
H&K in his hands and turns the barrel on himself so that it rests against
his temple.
“Don’t!” Anton screams,
as he slams on the breaks. Luke goes flying out of his seat, striking
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