Author's Note: In regards to the Spanish words in the Mayans' conversation, all the dialogue among the Mayans is supposed to be completely in Spanish with subtitles if this was acted out on screen. I'm not a native Spanish speaker so pardon any mistakes (my user name comes from a character on 24). This is done by design as this is the generation before Marcus Alvarez and they are far less Americanized. This is analogous to how in the Godfather movies, the scenes involving the young Don Vito Corleone are all in Italian while the younger generation of the Corleone family speaks English with one another.

CHAPTER 10: DEBTS IN BLOOD

JUNE 16, 1970

MARTINEZ IMPORTS TRADING COMPANY, PORT OF OAKLAND

"Escuchen hermanos, listen up, there has been a change in plans," Mayans Motorcycle Club Vice President Juan Martinez from the Oakland charter clapped his hands and announced to his assembled crew as he stepped into the dockside building owned by their club, one that was very lucrative for their smuggling operations. He had quickly called an impromptu meeting of both the patched members and prospects assigned to the deal with the Weathermen tomorrow.

"Si?" replied Secretary Benito Chavarria. "Como?"

Juan hid his distaste for Benito. He noticed that Benito had often resorted to speaking shorter phrases in Spanish to avoid mixing English words in his sentences. Benito was one of the few club members who were born in America, and was too influenced by the gringos, he thought. At the same time, though, Benito was useful to their club in that he was one of the few who could serve as an interpreter for the others, most of whom were illegals who spoke very limited English.

"We are going to go to the mall thirty minutes before the meeting to make sure everything is secure. We will patrol the garages, the surrounding area, and also the inside of the mall to make sure it is all clear."

"Por que? Es necesario? Frisco sabe? Is that really necessary? Does Frisco know of these plans?" asked Jorge Ramos, a patched Mayan biker, referring to their charter president.

"Por supuesto el sabe. Frisco esta de acuerdo con mi. Of course he knows. He agrees with me," Juan replied.

"What are we looking for? Can the Weathermen not be trusted?" asked Jorge, "Antonio has always been fair with us."

"I appreciate the new business, but such an increase in orders is unusual even for them, and Frisco shares these concerns. We don't know if they have been compromised. Maybe la policia, perhaps even the FBI and the CIA are onto the Weathermen and they want to take all of us down. They want to know who has been giving them these weapons. Yes, the Weathermen are loyal to their cause, but I do not think that loyalty is as strong as that of our brotherhood. We also do not know if the authorities have a case against them and are tracking their movements."

Jorge, Benito, and the others took this in and awaited their new orders.

JUNE 17, 1970

SUNVALLEY MALL, CONCORD, CONTRA COSTA COUNTY

JT felt a mix of nervousness and determination as he cruised west on California Delta Highway, also known as State Route 4, west into Contra Costa County. A little nervousness was good, JT had learned in the military. A soldier who didn't felt that was careless or had a hero complex and often got himself and others around him killed. He wondered if that was also what Otis felt as he rallied the others to rescue him from the communist enemy. Yet part of it was surreal. Instead of trekking through the jungle or approaching a hot landing zone under fire in a Huey, his entry to the battle zone was an uneventful hour and fifteen minute drive down country roads and then freeways past the billboards, fast food outlets and suburban ranch houses that were so quintessentially American. He and every other members of the club on this ride knew they faced possible death, and they knew to never underestimate the enemy. Yes, the Weathermen were a bunch of spoiled college kids, but that was also how some of the Vietcong started. It was also how many of Chairman Mao's Red Guards in China started out.

The Sunvalley Mall seemed brand new just like everything else in this part of Concord. If Charming was old Americana, Concord was the archetypical modern California suburb. The Mayans and Weathermen agreed on this location because Contra Costa County was neutral territory, away from the authorities that both sides suspected of tracking them on their home turf. Shortly after the vote approving the operation, JT, Piney and Clay had scouted the mall and the surrounding area, even getting multiple copies of the floor layout and surrounding parking facilities from the information booth to distribute to the other members.

Publicity for the operation was handled very delicately. They made a point to cruise through the streets of Charming wearing their new kuttes, as well as up Highway 99 all the way to Lodi, even circling the empty lot where the Armed Forces Credit Union used to stand. They also made another trip to Mt. Zion Cemetery to pay their respects to Otis once more. Unlike the Weather Underground, they had no plans to call in a claim of responsibility to the media. That would simply bring all the heat from law enforcement right back to them. Instead, they stopped at the Charming post office on their way out of town and mailed a letter with the club patch on it to Professor Rogers's campus address. Since Rogers was also operating on the other side of the law, he would most likely not involve the authorities. However, he would certainly get the message.

JT, Piney, Clay, and Keith came in their bikes, but Wally, Thomas, and Lenny arrived in two separate vehicles, a minivan and an ordinary gray colored work van. Having scouted the location, JT understood why the Mayans and Weathermen had agreed on this time and place. It was only about a third filled with vehicles, mostly concentrated in the several rows closest to the department store. This time of day, there would be enough shoppers around that there would be witnesses if either side attempted any backstabbing. It was also an ideal place for a third party to ambush them, JT decided. The parking area was actually a two story garage, with the upper level connected to the mall's sprawling main lot through a hillside and a lower level that felt like a traditional parking garage. The meet would take place on the exposed upper level given that the first floor was dark, had more cars and would offer too many hiding places.

"JT, looks like our guests are here. Early like promised."

But once again their enemies weren't expecting a third party, and the Sons used that to their full advantage. Wally, Thomas, and Lenny took a detour through the Macy's store and exited into the lower garage level.

SEARS DEPARTMENT STORE, SUNVALLEY MALL

"Nosotros amigos estan aqui. Our friends are here," Benito noticed as he adjusted his binoculars and handed them to Jorge. "Muy temprano. Very early." The two of them were on a catwalk on the second floor of Sears, which was located in close proximity to Macy's and gave them a good vantage point to the meeting area. His fellow Mayan also glanced out and saw Comrade Jimmy's brand new 1970 Bentley convertible and Deanna's Mercury Marauder X-100 sports car pull onto the mall property from Contra Costa Boulevard, heading straight for the Macy's garage.

Jorge confirmed the sighting and rushed through the men's department into the mall entrance, ignoring several employees asking him if he needed assistance. Jorge wished he could use the stolen police radios the Mayans possessed, but they were not reprogrammed yet and he was afraid the cops were still tracking them. Jorge ran into Juan Martinez right after entering the mall from Sears.

"The Weathermen are here. Both me and Benito got a very careful look, they do not have any policia or federales trailing them. I personally saw Antonio get out of the vehicle with Comrade Jimmy. They brought a few more of those college punks, a few more than before. Other than that, everything is normal."

Juan looked behind him one last time and nodded. "We scouted this entire area. Todo esta claro. It is all clear. Vamos, it is time for us to make some money."

MACY'S GARAGE – LOWER LEVEL

Lenny's radio buzzed with some static, then JT's voice came through. "Move in now, it's show time." Lenny nodded to Wally and Thomas and the three of them crossed a service roadway into the garage lower level. Wally pulled a Berretta out of his pocket as he approached the first Weatherman. The Weatherman's mouth opened in a gasp, but before any sound came out, Wally pulled the trigger, discharging a bullet straight into his open mouth. The other two terrorists were unable to respond because Thomas had taken them out with nearly simultaneous headshots.

MACY'S GARAGE - UPPER LEVEL

Comrade Jimmy had just started to glance around the area when he heard the loud gunshot. "What the fuck?" he said with an uneasy look on his face. He wondered if it was a car backfiring, with the sound magnified by the enclosed nature of the garage's lower level. It sounded like the bullets he had fired in practice, but then would there be multiple shots? Was this really a Mayan ambush? No, it couldn't be. They wouldn't be able to take down all three of their men at once…..

Lenny and Thomas emerged onto the upper level through one door, while Wally came through another. Thomas fired both of his Glocks while Lenny and Wally fired several shots into one of the clumps of Weathermen with their Berettas and Desert Eagles. The terrorist standing next to Jimmy took three bullets in the waist, toppling over and aiming his weapon at the door where Thomas was at. Thomas darted to the side and the terrorist's bullets whizzed by in a long stream, pocketing the wall in the stairwell. Thomas slid back into the doorway, well below the Weatherman's line of fire, and fired another killshot into the center of his chest.

"This is for Lodi!" Lenny screamed, firing several more shots before retreating back into the stairwell.

Jimmy saw his comrade fall to the ground dead. "Shit!"

He felt a wave of panic rush through him, and he saw the same look in Deanna's eyes. So these guys weren't Mayans. They were Central Valley rednecks, their worst nightmares, and they could definitely handle their guns. "Deanna, take cover! Everyone, suppress their fire and assess the clearest way out of here!"

His panic soon boiled into a rage, however. These gun-toting degenerates would not defeat him. So they were trained? He and his men also had over a year of paramilitary training on their secluded Weathermen controlled properties. He would fight back, he and his team would get out of here. They would find out who the hell these people were and then the Weathermen would destroy them the way Vladimir Lenin defeated his enemies and preserved the Soviet Revolution.

"Suck my dick, you goddamn bastard! Fuck you!" Jimmy screamed in a blinded rage, unleashing a volley of gunfire from his East German-made SKS semiautomatic carbine. Wally also stuck his weapon out, firing on full automatic, sending bullets flying toward the Weathermen. Most of the terrorists took cover but some of them fought back as their comrades reloaded. Antonio tried to return fire, but before he could, he was hit once in the lower leg, cursing in Spanish as he hid behind a row of parked cars. The gunfire from the Sons continued on full automatic, bullets slamming into tires causing them to flatten while others bounced off hubcaps with deafening sounds.

"Keith, fire now!" JT said as he, Clay, and Piney revved the engines on their motorcycles and drove from the main parking lot toward the upper garage level. "Remember, we need the girl alive if possible!"

Keith opened the doors to the minivan and removed a rocket propelled grenade launcher, quickly bringing it to shoulder level. After all, explosives had been his expertise in Northern Ireland's black market, and he had already demonstrated this particular model for the Irish Kings several times. Keith's first high-explosive grenade sailed smoothly from the launcher, leaving behind a white contrail as Keith prepared to fire again.

The rocket landed on a green sedan, vaporizing two Weathermen firing at Thomas from next to it. Keith followed up with three more grenades, being careful to aim away from where Deanna was preparing her own gun. "That crazy, bloody ass bitch," Keith mouthed. Maybe this won't be as easy as they had expected.

An RPG round landed on the concrete surface of the garage, sending a Weatherman flying through the air dead. Another impacted more cars, igniting more explosions and sending flaming wreckage raining down over a large area of the garage. One of these pieces cut through a terrorist decapitating him while several landed around Antonio, causing him to catch fire. The white hot flames quickly engulfed Antonio. He screamed for his comrades to shoot him and put him out of misery, but they were all too busy engaging the bikers. The shoppers in the area were now screaming and desperately running for their lives, leaving shopping bags and personal belongings in their wake.

Thomas saw Jimmy and fired his MP5 again but missed. He saw Jimmy bring his gun around and aim. A round struck Thomas in the arm and he felt a sudden burning pain. Several pieces of his flesh hung loose. "I been hit, dammit!" he radioed JT, retreating back, "Fuck!"

"We're on our way!" JT radioed. Four Weathermen emerged on the lower level, spraying heavy automatic weapons and pistol fire on the approaching bikers. Clay dodged to the right, opening fire with his assault rifle, shooting down one, then a second terrorist as they charged out of the garage. The clip was empty on the MP-5 strapped around JT's shoulder, so he took his sidearm, another Glock 9mm pistol and fired. Another Weatherman dropped to the ground. Piney squeezed off a burst with his M-16 rifle, shooting the fourth Weatherman through the neck, the hostile clutching his neck in agony for a few seconds before joining his dead comrades on the pavement.

Wally fired a shot that hit Jimmy in the lower abdomen, the faction leader doubling over in pain as bright red blood seeped through his shirt. Another Weathermen hurled a hand grenade straight at the stairwell.

"Run! Run!" Lenny yelled and grabbed Wally, the two of them running down back to the first level. The force of the blast sent chunks of concrete falling down all over the parked vehicles underneath and propelled the metal door like a missile that shot over Wally's head with only a few inches to spare before lodging itself in the engine block of a car.

Jimmy tasted the blood in his throat and knew he had been hit worse than he expected. So this is what dying feels like, he thought. "Deanna….Deanna!" he said, his voice still loud as he leaned again a cement wall.

Deanna tried to remove Jimmy's shirt to look at his wound despite having no medical training whatsoever.

Jimmy still managed to struggle to his feet despite the pain. "It's over for me, sweetheart."

"No, Jimmy!" Deanna said, grief mixing with fear as bullets continued whizzing by as three surviving Weathermen fired back at the bikers. It was obvious they had gotten far more than they had bargained for. Cowardly detonating a bomb was one thing. Now they were actually shooting it out with trained former military guys.

"I'm proud to go down like this for a higher purpose, unlike some old man who's lived a meaningless life," Jimmy said, giving her a quick kiss. "You take a couple guys and retreat, go through the mall. The rest of us will send as many of these hillbilly motherfuckers to hell as possible. You're more valuable to our cause than I am. Professor Rogers still needs you. Don't argue with me, Deanna, go get the hell out of here!"

Deanna nodded tearfully and took off across the parking lot, several Weathermen providing cover fire for her. "I'm so proud of you, Jimmy, and I know your family will be too."

Comrade Jimmy limped forward, taking aim at the lead approaching bike which was ridden by JT. His eyes were blurring over from the pain, but he could still see the image of the Harley getting larger and larger. JT saw the muzzle flashing on Jimmy's gun as dozens of bullets came toward him, bouncing off the pavement. A few even hit the handlebars as the bikers approached in a zigzagging pattern. Jimmy turned his attention to Piney, but Piney ducked low, and Jimmy's stream of bullets only hit a few car windows and trees. JT saw another Weatherman take a firing position in the corner of his eye. He turned his MP5 to the right and cut the man down in a furious blaze of gunfire. JT was now almost upon Jimmy, who opened fire again. JT shot another burst that riddled Jimmy's chest with bullets.

JT dismounted his bike and stepped forward. At this point, Jimmy could no longer speak through the pain and the blood filling up his lungs. He mumbled incoherently and stared up at JT with defiant eyes.

"You wanted to bring the war here, you piece of shit? Well this is what we did to those commie bastards in Vietnam, and your Professor Rogers will be next. Oh yes, we know all about him, and we're going to make him pay too!" JT made sure Comrade Jimmy understood he had failed not just his cause, but Rogers personally. With that, JT killed Jimmy with a shot to the forehead.

SEARS DEPARTMENT STORE

"Madre de Dios!" Jorge gasped at the events quickly transpiring below them. "Quien son? Who the hell are these people?" The shock wave from the RPGs had shattered the entire glass façade of Sears as well as the glass beneath the stainless steel railing of the catwalk.

"I don't know but this is loco," replied Benito. "Antonio is dead! Half of them are dead! Shit!"

"It's time for us to get the fuck out of here!" Jorge said. For all the violence he had witnessed and personally dealt out throughout his life, he had never seen anything like this. This wasn't a gangland attack, not even a professional Mafia-style hit. This was war, pure and simple. This must be how things are in that Vietnam place that the Americans were always talking about.

"Un momento, Jorge," Benito said, "Mira! It is that Deanna girl, they are trying to make a run for it."

"She is muy importante," Jorge said, making a judgment call on the spot. "She is the one who knows the weapons. We need her alive if our business relationship is to continue, and the Weathermen will also be indebted to us for saving her. If we let all of our partners get killed like that, it will hurt our reputation and nobody will want to do business with us again. I know this is what Juan would want."

"Si," Benito replied simply then removed a high powered sniper rifle and several shotguns from the tote bag they were carrying. He wanted to point out that they should have never joined the battle anyway, since they were technically not supposed to even be at the mall yet. But like so many things this day, it was too late. They were already in the fray, and had to do whatever it took to get out.

MACY'S PARKING GARAGE

By now, Keith had put away his rocket launcher and replaced them with his pair of binoculars. First he glanced down Contra Costa Boulevard. Sure enough, he saw the flashing lights of police cars, fire engines, and ambulances approaching the scene but they were still quite a long way off, still too far away for the sirens to be heard. He then glanced back at the garage, where over a dozen cars were burning with smoke rising into the sky.

"JT, everyone, the law's approaching, it would still take them at least a few minutes to get here," he radioed, "Wait….shit, the girl's making a run for it. She's got three Weathermen escorting her, they're headed into the store. Repeat, they're headed into Macy's!"

"We got it. How much resistance is left outside?" Piney asked.

"Two hostiles, they're approaching your position from the right!"

"Okay," JT said, "We're going to have to ditch the bikes. As much as I'd love to pursue them on wheels there's too many witnesses. Get these bikes back on the van and maintain contact with us for rendezvous. We're going after Deanna right now. She may be injured and she probably doesn't know this place the way we do. We should have a fair shot at this."

"Motherfuckers!" a terrorist screamed as they got off their bikes, squeezing one burst after another with an AK-47 as he ran along the sidewalk next to Macy's. Piney aimed with his Glock and fired. A single bullet went through the Weatherman's heart, sending him falling sideways onto a strip of grass planted next to the building. They were almost to the entrance now. The last Weatherman outside popped up from behind the trunk of a car and fired a few bullets in their direction.

JT quickly turned to the men next to him. "Clay, can you handle all the bastards left out here? We gotta go in pursuit now before that bitch gets away!"

"You bet I fucking got it! Go!"

Clay reloaded and took shelter behind a Buick convertible. The Weatherman fired again, his bullets tearing holes through the Buick's tarp. Clay could tell his enemy was scared and feeling helpless. The Weatherman ran out of bullets on one clip and fired his other gun, but was afraid to stop firing both weapons long enough to fully reload. It would probably have behooved him to just take a few seconds, reload and make sure that his aim was right. But he was only a radicalized Berkeley student with poor tactical training, and besides his comrades were too dead to cover him now.

Clay aimed through one of the holes in the tarp and squeezed off short bursts of fire. He saw a red puff and pieces of flesh flying as his gunfire impacted the Weatherman's chest. The hostile fell down, his body jerking around for a few seconds before becoming still. Yet another bullet, one with a very different caliber, whizzed through Clay's hair. Shit.

Clay saw a flash, then another come from the Sears catwalk. There were more hostiles up there covering Deanna's escape into the mall.

SEARS DEPARTMENT STORE

"I got the one on the bike. You aim for the one in the van!" Jorge told Benito. He barked several instructions in Spanish, ordering several Mayans into the main part of the mall to secure Deanna, assist the surviving Weathermen and make contact with Juan.

Benito aimed at the van, striking it twice but narrowly missing Keith.

"Bloody hell," Keith cursed in a particularly Northern Irish way. He put down the binoculars and brought the RPG back out of the van. "Look out, Clay, I'm going to take them out with an RPG round but get their attention!"

Clay stepped back out and opened up with his machine gun.

"Fuck! Puta de madre!" Benito exclaimed as the bullets struck everything around him, including one that grazed his shoulder, sending a moderate about of blood flowing out of the wound. It was then that they saw the contrail of the RPG Keith had just fired.

"Take cover! Ahora!" Jorge screamed, yanking Benito's arm as the two of them retreated from their position, diving behind a rack of business suits as the rocket propelled grenade flew through the broken glass. The explosive warhead impacted the ceiling of the adjacent women's handbags department, blowing a hole through the roof and sending parts of the ventilation system crashing down onto the merchandise and display cases. The entire store shook for several seconds. Many customers and employees who had not heard the battle outside thought it was a minor earthquake, quickly taking cover behind the counters and flattening themselves on the floor.

MALL INTERIOR –SEARS CONCOURSE

"Como esta la pierna? Esta bien? What happened to the arm?" Juan asked Benito as he and Jorge came out of Sears and into one of the mall's main concourses coughing from their smoke inhalation.

"I'll survive, Juan. Who the fuck are these people?"

"Nobody knows but we will find out!" Juan told him, "Whoever they are, they are chasing Deanna and the rest of the Weathermen toward the central atrium. We must head there now! Rapido! Arriba!" The Mayans ran past clumps of shoppers who gasped at the weapons they were waving around.

SUNVALLEY MALL CENTRAL ATRIUM

Deanna was bleeding from several wounds caused by flying glass during the gun battle outside. She couldn't believe it had come to this. Her boyfriend was dead. So many of her comrades were dead, all massacred by these Charming bikers in a matter of minutes.

The Weatherman accompanying her nudged and pulled on her. "C'mon Deanna, I know you're hurt but we gotta move faster! More of those fuckers are gonna be here anytime!"

Deanna forced herself to ignore the pain of her wounds and catch up with her comrade. Suddenly, her world once again in the rattling of automatic weapons first, but this was coming from the second floor of the central atrium up ahead, and rather than feeling bullets slam into her again, Deanna saw that it was aimed squarely behind her at the pursuing bikers. She heard several screams behind her and saw two shoppers clutching their wounds at they fell to the ground, blood clearly visible on the gleaming white floor. It was then that she heard the new set of gunmen shouting to each other in rapid Spanish. It must be the Mayans, she saw, also here for the party. She remembered meeting their VP at a previous weapons deal.

"Come, Deanna! Vamo! Rapido!" Juan shouted from the top as several more Mayans arrived with various models of submachine guns and assault rifles slung over their shoulders. Most of them weren't wearing their biker kuttes, afraid of recognition in such a public place. They looked more like a regular street gang than an outlaw motorcycle club.

"Goddamn it! Motherfucker!" Clay cursed as bullets came at them from both directly in front and from an elevated position the moment he caught up with JT and Piney in the mall's large central atrium containing a glass elevator, several fountains, vendor carts and large indoor potted plants. There were two gunmen engaging them from the second floor of the atrium, spaced evenly out across the expanse of the atrium.

"Everyone take cover! Stay down!" JT screamed as he reloaded and fired upward before dodging several long bursts. "Dammit!"

JT saw a young shopper panic and try to make a run for it. She was immediately cut down by the Mayans' furious gunfire, as was a worker from a Tower Records store.

"Tu mierda!" Piney heard Juan curse as the Mayan reloaded and sent another stream of bullets flying in their direction.

"Look, we need to take out the two men above us and outflank the rest!" Through the edge of his field of vision, JT could see Deanna running away, but he knew that right now, getting himself and his brothers out alive was all that mattered.

JT made a run for it as three Mayans all opened fire on him. He paused briefly behind a mall information kiosk, the display shattering into hundreds of pieces and the lighting inside flickering in sparks. Despite this, there was metal inside the kiosk that deflected the gunfire. Piney fired back, shooting one of the Weathermen in the head before he went into Tower Records, tripping over a shelf and sending records tumbling onto the floor.

JT now saw one of the Mayans in his line of fire and took the shot, watching the man fall dead.

"JT there's too many of them!" Piney shouted as he took cover behind the shaft of the glass elevator. "I need backup now!" At least two Mayans were firing at Piney from the upper floor. It was clear that without JT's quick intervention, Piney would be shot dead the moment he emerged from behind the elevator shaft, and he couldn't stay there forever.

Piney reloaded but couldn't get a straight shot. Neither could the other Sons. In the distance, he saw Deanna and a Weather Underground terrorist go into the Montgomery Ward department store down the end of another long concourse. It was no longer about capturing her though. Now it was about him, JT, and the other club members getting out of here alive. Despite not having a clear visual on where any of the Mayans were shooting from, Piney raised his gun and fired two bullets in the direction of the automatic weapons fire without leaving his covered position. He closed his eyes as another AK-47 round slammed into the wall next to him sending pieces of stone and marble flying toward him.

"I'm going to draw some fire!" JT shouted as he got up off the floor. "I got two more magazines in my Carbine! The moment those bastards come, take them out!" They had wanted to avoid this battle with the Mayans, but were left with no choice. They had no way of predicting that Juan Martinez and his crew would show up to the meet this early, and this was certainly no time to try explaining themselves. They didn't have their radios now and JT had to shout, knowing that most likely the Mayan gunmen couldn't understand any English.

"Juan! Juan! La policia will be here soon!" Benito urged his leader, "The bombmaker is safely away! We must get the hell out of here because those motherfuckers show up."

However, Juan was one floor below, by the fountain area now, and couldn't hear him over the sound of the gunfire two more Mayans were spraying into the atrium below. JT came out of the record store with his Carbine blasting on full auto, aiming at the Mayans above. The first Mayan took an entire round in the chest, falling down into the plastic tables below. This gave Piney and Lenny the respite they needed to engage the remaining man at the top.

"Vamo! Vamo!" Benito urged the others to flee the scene before the police swarmed the mall. Lenny got the second Mayan shooter in his crosshairs and shot him down, the man falling from the second floor into the fountain below with a bright red splash.

Juan flattened himself behind a large pot containing one of the indoor palm trees and fired with his East German submachine gun. A round slammed into Thomas's leg, the biker falling down in pain. Both Piney and JT turned their attention in Juan's direction and opened up, their bullets riddling the palm tree enough times that it fell over.

Juan saw Lenny writhing around in pain. He didn't know who these gringos were, but he was going to put them down. Before he could make the kill shot, though, he felt a sharp pain in his shoulder as several shots fired by Piney went into him. The shock of the gunshot caused Juan to drop his weapon, but another Mayan took his place as he reached for his weapon again.

"Keep firing him from this position. I am going to surprise them from below while you have them pinned down!" Juan ordered, trying to ignore his wound. "We will finish off these hueyputas!"

"Si jefe!" the Mayan subordinate said with determination, "You can count on me." He fed another full magazine into his gun and returned to his firing position. He didn't see where the Charming bikers were but it didn't matter. He just needed to keep them occupied until Juan could ambush them.

"Okay we got one man remaining, we take him out and we're home free!" JT called out to Piney, who nodded. "We're going to advance one at a time." If only I had a fucking grenade right now, JT told himself as he thought of how they flushed out the commies in the jungle.

"Got it!" Piney shouted back. The two bikers stepped to opposite sides of the concourse , hiding behind more pots and vendors carts and "prize" vehicles parked down the middle. JT's ears rang as Juan fired a trail of bullets that hit the wall right next to his ear sending plaster flying all around him. More bullets tore apart the indoor plants that dotted the atrium. He had no idea how these Mayans were able to acquire the firepower of a small army.

"Go that way!" JT pointed to the left as they both opened fire simultaneously on the shooter's position. The Mayan gunman moved to the side as the bullets slammed across the glass portion of the catwalk and took cover behind a concrete ledge on the second floor still overlooking the atrium. JT then concentrated his fire directly on the ledge, which offered none of the protection the Mayan thought it did when it came to high caliber bullets. JT's gunfire passed through his body over ten times, and the gunman slumped over on the ground dead.

There was near silence for a few seconds as JT and Piney took in the aftermath of what had just happened. Several storefronts were completely shattered by gunfire, and bullets pocketed the elevator doors, dining tables, chairs and walls with hundreds of spent shell casings scattered across the atrium floor. Piney suddenly nudged JT and turned toward the escalator, where they saw another Mexican man who looked like a gangster coming down toward them. His weapon was behind him, but JT saw the strap on his shoulder, something a civilian would probably have missed.

"Hold it right there, motherfucker!" Piney shouted, training his weapon on Juan Martinez. "It's over, amigo!"

"Put your hands in the air where we can see them or you'll be joining your brothers real soon!" JT also yelled as they took several steps forward. "Do not touch your weapon! Take it by the strap and throw it down to the ground!"

Juan seemed to comply, then his hands made a quick movement toward the AK-47 strapped around his shoulder. JT and then Piney quickly squeezed their triggers, hitting Juan all over his chest and groin area, and continued firing until his body tumbled all the way down to the bottom of the escalator.

CONCORD STREETS

With no time to waste, they helped Lenny to his feet and went into a service corridor, Piney radioing their position to Keith so they could move the vehicles to an alternative pickup point. By this time, the rest of the gang had already managed to load all their bikes into the other vehicle as well. JT, Piney, and Thomas closed the door to Keith's van and it sped off less than forty seconds before several police cars sped past them heading in the opposite direction toward one of the major mall entrances. JT looked in the rearview mirror and saw some officers taking up defensive positions while others entered the mall with their guns drawn as civilians continued to rush out.

"Keith, slow down!" Piney told. "I think we're in the clear now but we don't want to draw any attention to ourselves. The cops are going to be looking for any reason they can to search vehicles after all the shit that just went down."

"Thomas, how you doing? JT asked with concern as the van left Contra Costa Boulevard and entered the on-ramp for southbound Interstate 680 toward Walnut Creek. With several wounded, the Sons wanted to go back the way they came, but couldn't risk police checks in case anyone suspected their organization was the one involved. Instead, they were taking the detour through Walnut Creek via Ygnacio Valley Road heading east.

"Fuck, man!" JT managed to say, gritting his teeth.

"He's lost some blood but we should be able to stabilize him," said Wally, who had some medic training in the Army.

"How much longer we got?" Thomas asked.

"About an hour," JT replied honestly, "You'll survive, I know. Wally here's seen much worse over there, I'm sure you know that."

"Here," Lenny said, taking out a bottle of Kentucky Bourbon that he had already drank from as his own wounds were being bandaged. "This might help with the ride, buddy."

Thomas forced a smile. "Give it to me," he said, quickly opening the bottle and taking a long swig, then several more until he passed out in the van's backseat.

MAYANS OAKLAND CHAPTER CLUBHOUSE – PLAZA MAYA MEXICAN RESTAURANT AND CANTINA

Benito Chavarria rode his motorcycle through Oakland's inner city streets in record time, running at least five red lights and doing at least twenty above the speed limit the entire way. Despite this, not a single driver honked or cursed at him, because these were his streets, and the kutte he was wearing again demanded respect. Benito only had four other bikes following him, making him feel exposed. He knew there were probably another two or three of his crew left, including Jorge who was to return to the clubhouse separately with Deanna, but over half of his team had been killed in the confrontation with this previously unknown MC.

It had to be some mistake, he kept telling himself as they fled the Sunvalley Mall. But every time Benito looked back and saw what was left of the Mayan crew that had gone to the meet, he had to face the facts. This was the deadliest day in the Oakland charter's history, and also the deadliest day in the history of the entire Mayans MC on this side of the border.

Benito finally screeched his Mazda bike to a halt in the parking lot of the Plaza Maya Mexican Restaurant and Cantina, located in the heart of one of Oakland's most notorious Mexican barrios. The sprawling building was designed with a more traditional Mexican look with stucco walls and a red tiled roof than anything based on ancient Mayan architecture.

This was a neighborhood where gunshots rang out every night and non-Mexicans seen on the streets were questioned, accosted and eventually convinced to leave by the Mayan bikers who clearly had more authority here than the Oakland Police Department. A large percentage of the barrio's population was illegal and thus afraid to make any contact with American law enforcement anyway. The Oakland PD, for their part, turned a blind eye on the Mayans as long as they kept the more violent gangs in check.

"What up, ese?" one of the guards wearing a Mayan prospect jacket with a Mexican flag pin said in Spanish. His name was Oscar Santana, one of the young street thugs they had recently recruited. "Looks like you really in a hurry, man. Everything alright?" Benito typically parked on the secure lot out back that was ringed with barbed wire fencing. That was also the quickest access to the Mayans clubhouse, but Benito knew it was not where his President was right now. Benito trembled at the news he was about to deliver, but just wanted to get it out of the way and deal with the outrage.

Benito barely made eye contact with Oscar as he locked up his bike and walked rapidly to the door. "Necesito hablar con Frisco ahora. Es muy importante. I must speak to Frisco now," Benito told him, referring to Francisco "Frisco" Martinez, the leader of the Mayans Oakland charter. The prospect opened the door for Benito and ushered him in.

The Plaza Maya was a nightclub, strip joint, bar, and liquor wholesaler all in one large building. Unofficially, the private rooms within the strip club area also served as a brothel. The prospects and several Mayans followed Benito as he made his way through the bar area, where several bikers were playing a game of pool and drinking tequilas and margaritas as Mexican norteno music blared through the speakers. Several strippers were dancing on a large stage to the music while a handful of customers watched their performance, chugging Pacifico and Dos Equis beers and shouting obscene sexual remarks in Spanish toward the stage.

Benito immediately went into the back offices and opened up the door to Frisco's private suite. Sure enough, Frisco was being entertained by two prostitutes right in the middle of his gaudily decorated office with a large bottle of tequila on his desk as pulsating salsa music blared from a boom box set high on a shelf.

"It's an emergency, Frisco. We must speak now!" Benito exclaimed with the most pained expression on his face that his boss had ever seen.

"Que? You cannot even wait until…."

"No, por favor, patron. I swear it cannot wait."

Frisco sighed and slapped each hooker hard on the behind, then stuffed some cash into their bras. "Hasta luego, putas." Frisco waited until both hookers had left the room and their rapid chatting disappeared down the hall.

"I'm sorry to tell you this, jefe, but…." Benito began, trembling.

"What is it, Benito? What do you have to tell me?"

"Tu hermano esta muerto. Your brother is dead."