KNOW ME (DEFIANT Motorcycle Club)(19)

he’d been gone.  That whatever this was between us was helping me heal from the

violence which had ended the world I’d known.
But instead I just kissed the knot of hard muscle and asked him a question.
“Orion?  Will you take me for a ride?”
***
We hurtled through the scrubby brown desert as the sun rose higher in the sky.  I

recognized that we’d left Quartzsite behind miles ago.  There didn’t appear to be

much on the eastern horizon.  According to the signs which blurred past, Phoenix was

over a hundred miles away.
Between the wind, the roar of the bike and the whoosh of the large haul trucks we

passed on the I-10, I couldn’t very well get a question across to Orion.  So I gripped

him more tightly and leaned into his broad back, loving the feel of my hair whipping

around us furiously.  I hadn’t been on a bike in years.
After a time Orion exited the freeway.  I missed the sign which would indicate where we

were headed but the road was considerably narrower than the interstate.  I closed my

eyes and hugged my driver more tightly, indulging in the sensation of trust which came

with being carried along like this.
Orion slowed as we neared a crop of buildings with a smattering of palm trees. We

passed a painted yellow sign with red lettering reading ‘Salome, Arizona’ and then,

oddly, underneath that were the words “Where she danced”.
The town was small, smaller than Quartzsite even.  Outside of a squat cafe a man sat in

a folding chair with his enormous belly spilling out in all directions.  He waved a

laconic arm in greeting.  On the side of another low, boxy building was a painted

picture of a womanly sick figure underneath the curious words which were apparently the

town’s logo.  “Where she danced.”
We had passed through the small center of town within a minute.  I was able to see how

Salome sat in a serene valley surrounded by brownish gray mountains.  Orion turned

abruptly onto a dirt road which clearly warned against trespassers and drove the rough

terrain closer to the mountains.  He made another quick turn onto an even shallower

road which was really more of a path.  After a few moments of bumpy travel he stopped

the bike next to a small neglected plot which was surrounded by a low fence made of

ruined chicken wire.
I waited until Orion climbed off the bike and then followed him.  He took off his

sunglasses and squinted towards town.
“So who danced here?” I asked, looking into the same direction to see whatever it was

he saw.
“Salome.”
“Who’s Salome?”
Orion grinned.  “Don’t you know the bible, Kira?”
“The bible?” I scoffed.  “No, and I’d bet my slim collection of possessions that

neither do you.”
He laughed.  “You’d be surprised. Some shit sunk in back in the early years.  My

mother was a believer.  Anyway, it doesn’t matter.  This Salome was named after the

wife of one of the earliest residents.  One summer day about a hundred years ago this

lady, Salome, made the mistake of walking somewhere barefoot.  When the ground burned

her feet she jumped around in pain.  And to the men who watched, I guess it looked like

she was dancing.”
Orion settled on the dusty ground next to the plot which I realized from the crumbling

place markers was likely a small cemetery.  He looked at me expectantly and I sat down

next to him.  A few hundred yards away a pair of carrion birds circled overhead,

evidently tracking a meal.
“It’s quiet out here,” I said.
“Yes,” he agreed.
“Orion?  Is Ruger alive?”
He was a long time answering.  “Yes.”
I thought about the man who had murdered my father.  I’d seen him in the flesh only

once.  He was a big brute with hair so blonde it was almost white and dark, almost

black, eyes which were at odds with his light hair.  My freshman year I’d taken an

Ancient Civilizations class.  Part of the required reading was a lengthy tome on the

Vikings.  I’d shuddered over the brutal descriptions of their exploits, and at the

time thought that if I were to draw a picture of a marauding Viking raider I would

depict Ruger of the SF Outlaws.
“Do you know,” I asked, “What brought it all on?  I remember the look in Crest’s

eyes that last night.  He knew something bad was boiling but I’m sure he didn’t think

death was so close.  He never in a million years would have let me stay nearby if he

had a clue.”
Orion removed a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and lit up.  His face was

thoughtful.  “A deal gone bad.  Someone dicked out of a lot of money.  That’s the

gossip anyway.”  He took a drag.  “Who the f*ck knows?  Any man who would tell the

truth about it is dead.”
I nodded, feeling vaguely queasy.  “Will he come after me?”
He took so long to answer I wondered if he would.  “Not right now,” he finally said.