Wild Blaze (Back Down Devil MC 0.5)(6)

Heather sat in a leather chair in a desolate hallway. The one light near the window gently buzzed, flickering in and out of life, waiting to die. It was some kind of symbol for the hospital. So many rooms, so many people. Everyone just waiting to die. Some would die, some wouldn’t. Hell, the same could be said for all the people working in the hospital. Everyone was just waiting to die. Between now and death there was nothing to do but kill time.

These were the days Heather found the job rough. She didn’t regret the job and she didn’t regret her decision to become a nurse. But she wished she could make a phone call and hear someone’s voice to soothe her. Better yet, she wished she could go home, take a long hot shower, and then cuddle up on the couch with someone who would hold her, touch her, whisper things that would calm her. And then love her. Love her so hard… so long… hands everywhere… the need… the want…

Heather closed her eyes. She tried to dig far back in her memory to remember if she and Lyle were ever like that. He had just been the quiet, best dressed guy a college bar one night. And Heather had been celebrating something stupid. It wasn’t her birthday, so that meant something dumb like passing a class or finishing out a semester. Waking up next to Lyle was fun for the first morning… but now years later she wondered just how it had gotten this far.

You know how it got this f*cking far. You f*cking liar.

Heather hated herself for letting things get out of control.

“Hey, girl, you listening to me?”

Heather jumped and opened her eyes. She looked up as Debbie looked down at her. She was holding coffee. It wasn’t hospital coffee either, but coffee from a corner cafe. Delicious coffee.

“That for me?” Heather asked.

“Yes,” Debbie said.

Heather took the coffee and Debbie plopped down next to her. At the same time, they both took off the lids to the coffee and blew into it. They stared at the blank wall across from them, the silence some kind of blessing.

It wasn’t until they sipped the coffee did Debbie start to talk again.

“That was a mess,” Debbie said. “A f*cking mess. Those goddamn biker guys. They’re always causing goddamn trouble in this town.”

“I can’t believe that guy lived through that,” Heather said. “He was burned damn near everywhere.”

“Yeah, well, he’s lucky he had us. Running around like damn fools so he could ride his motorcycle again. And cause trouble. And do whatever else they do over there. Those businesses they have aren’t real. Even the cops know it and they do nothing.” Debbie turned to face Heather. “You know what I think?”

“What?”

“I think the cops need those guys.”

“What guys?”

“Back Down Devil,” Debbie whispered. “That’s who they are. The bikers. But I think they’re more than just that. I think they take care of things the cops can’t and won’t. That’s why there’s some kind of understanding.”

“Well, no matter what happens to that man, he’ll have some pretty bad scars,” Heather said. “He was leaning in the car when the bomb went off. He’s lucky the bomb was in the trunk and not in the backseat, or in his hands. He’d be dead then.”

“That would have been bad,” Debbie said.

“Easier on us though,” Heather said with a dry laugh.

Debbie patted Heather’s hand. “Oh, I didn’t mean it like that. If one of those men died, all hell would break loose in this town. Christ, hell is coming now. Whoever did that to them…”

“Won’t the cops investigate?”

“Like I said, I think the cops need those men more than those men need the cops.” Debbie stood up. “Sorry to interrupt your break here. I talk a lot when I’m tired or stressed.”

“I’m not on a break. My shift is done.”

“Done? Then what the hell are you still doing here?

Heather laughed. “Not sure.”

“Get out of here. Enjoy some freedom for once. Go home and let Kyle take care of you…”

Heather nodded and smiled. Everyone called Lyle by the wrong name. And never once did Heather care enough to correct them. It just didn’t matter enough to her.

“Thanks,” Heather said. “Thanks for the coffee, too.”

“Hey, that was a messy scene before,” Debbie said. “In my years of experience, I’ve learned it’s best not to think about it. Not to dwell on it. Not to keep picturing it all. If you do that, then the job literally never ends. We did good today. The doctors did good today. It wasn’t our fault he got himself blown up. It’s our job to help and that’s what we did.” Debbie paused for a few seconds. “Have a good night, Heather.”

The truth was that Heather wasn’t thinking about the man wrapped up in a hospital bed, covered in burns. She wasn’t thinking about the sight of his face and body, the tattered clothing and char-burned flesh. She wasn’t thinking about the other guys, yelling and cursing, making her feel like a war was going to start right in the emergency room.

She was thinking about going home.

What waited for her there. Lyle and his bullshit. His punishments. It was a definite that Peter called Lyle to complain about the coffee incident.

But f*ck him. Right? Fuck him and f*ck Lyle. Fuck them all.