CHAPTER 2
RETURN OF THE
DEVIL'S HAND II
Getting shot isn't really as dramatic as it is on T.V or in the flicks. No giant wad of blood comes spewing out, no geyser of viscera ejects from your body. This was my first time getting shot, and I had these misconceptions in my mind. I expected something bigger, something grander. Shit, if I was going to die in that bar, I was expecting to die with all my blood all over the place. That's just not the case.
At first, I didn't really register the bullet going through me. It goes by so fast that you barely feel anything at all for about a few seconds. It was like a pin needle driving through me slowly, but as the seconds went by and my brain realized what had just happened, I felt the pain. Being shot is a very unique experience, and so I'd like to describe it in a unique way. Imagine a very tiny, but very strong, Mike Tyson punched you as hard as he could on your shoulder. Keep in mind, Mike Tyson has the ability to kill a man with one punch, just like a bullet. This is what it felt like, being punched by a very strong and tiny boxer. Weird, I know.
Anyway, I was standing there, blood on my hands and a mind full of questions. My mind was scattered; I didn't really plan on getting shot that night. After the bar I was thinking of maybe watching a movie, or catching a bus back home to catch the latest episode of whatever the hell was popular at the moment. It didn't matter, I'd have just rather done anything else than to be shot in the fucking shoulder.
"This is it," I thought "this is how I die. Fuck. Can't I just get one more drink?" I was delirious. So delirious, in fact, that I began reaching for my drink and tried my best to grab the cup and take one last sip. This was when I felt a large hand grab my arm and pulled me away, followed by the sounds of gunshots, this time they were extremely close to me.
"Aw fuck, did you get shot!?" The old man turned me around to face him. "Fuck. Shit, we gotta get outta here man, c'mon!"
As he was saying that, I turned my head to see where the shooter once stood, and there he laid slumped over, riddled with bullets. Still dazed, I turn to see that the old guy had a gun in his hand. I'd never seen a gun with a barrel that big, it was like something from a looney tunes short.
He pulls my arm hard. "Hey. Hey! Stay with me, you can move, right?" My mind told me to run, but I was so confused, and everything had happened so fast. I think I can trust him, if he really wanted me dead, he'd have shot me with that gun before when he was behind me. I had no choice, so I nodded. "Good! Let's fucking move, get that wound treated, and answer any questions you have. I'm sure you've got plenty."
I never noticed before, probably because I was sitting down the whole time, but this guy was tall. Really tall. Well okay, maybe not Andre the Giant tall, but maybe something like Jake the Snake tall. Just by the look in his eyes and how he killed the assassin so quickly, it's no doubt this guy not only has experience killing, but he's done it a ton of times. Too many times to count, I'd say.
He ran off without me, and I followed behind. My first few steps were hell, slight movement made me groan in pain as I felt my left shoulder move about and made the wound feel worse. I would utter a few cuss words every second, the pain was just getting to me. The biker gang that was there scattered and were leaving the building. I wasn't sure what they were scared of, I doubt these guys are unarmed. It was probably due to the fact that, since there was now a corpse lying on the ground, the cops would eventually show up and arrest any suspects. I'm sure none of them wanted to be taken in.
As the crowd hustled through, my eyes were focused on the old man, which wasn't hard considering his height and that his skin color was darker than the average person in the bar. At the same time I scanned my eyes through the crowd as to make sure nobody else was attempting to murder me. I was swimming through the horde of bikers, trying not to bump into anyone, still firmly grasping at my shoulder and biting down on my bottom lip.
"Fuck!" I would say. "Shit, fuck, goddammit! Fuck!" The pain was unbearable.
Just then I bumped into one of the bar workers I recognize. It was Theresa, a crude red headed, freckle-faced woman who doesn't take shit from anyone. Regulars at the bar called her "Mother Theresa" because of how she nagged and bossed us around. She's a fiery one.
Theresa looked at me and said "Rey? Shit, why are you-" she paused. Theresa looked at my shoulder, and her eyes widened, then looked straight into my eyes. "What the fuck happened!? You've been shot!"
"I know, Theresa. Trust me, fuck, I know!" I got annoyed by her stating the obvious.
"Well what the hell are you doing? C'mon!" she grabbed hold of my hand and was pulling me. I really felt like a ragdoll that night. "We gotta get you to the hospital, Rey!"
"Let go, Theresa!"
"Just follow me to my car, I'll get us to the hospital and get that fixed!"
"I said let me fucking go, Theresa!" I was losing him, the old man was farther from me because of her. "I can get there by myself! Just get the hell outta here!" Theresa was confused, understandably so. As soon as she opened her mouth, I turned and headed towards the old man. I knew she wanted to say something, but I really didn't have time to listen to whatever she wanted to say.
To be honest, I wasn't sure why I didn't just go with her. I knew she was my way out of the rabbit hole I just entered. If I had accepted her offer, I would've been out of this mess. I don't know what I was thinking, but for some reason I thought that by accepting her offer, I would've ended up dead. There are assassins after me, I needed to know why, I needed to escape. There wasn't anything stopping me from turning around and telling Theresa "ya know what? Nevermind, I actually wanna go with you". Yet for some reason I just kept walking forward. There was just something about this that nagged my mind, something I needed to scratch other than the 50 questions I already had lined up for this guy. I felt like this was it, this was my purpose. I'm going to find my purpose.
Just as those fantastical thoughts poured through my mind, there were gunshots from outside the bar. I stopped dead in my tracks. The people inside the bar ran even faster, like roaches in the dark scattering when the lights go on. The old man took cover behind the wall and tried peeking outside through the window. After nearly a fraction of a second went by, he took out a walkie talkie and started talking to whoever was on the other side. I couldn't hear him at all, too many people running and shouting.
Adrenaline kicked in, and I ran behind a thick brick pillar inside the building. I figured those gunshots were aiming for me, and possibly the old man. I had to get away from the windows, or else I'd be a visible target.
"Rey!" I heard the old man shout. He was much clearer now that the crowd was thinned out.
"Yeah!?"
"Okay good, you're still alive."
"What the fuck is going on!? Who are you? Why are people after me!?"
"Shit…" he took a moment to respond. "Well, even though we're being shot at right now, I guess now's a good time to explain. After all, this might be your last night alive."
Fuck him for saying that. Seriously, fuck him. Suddenly, I heard something crash through the window. "Was it a bullet?" I wondered. Then, from outside the building, I heard someone yell "GRENADE!" followed by a huge explosion.
"Did this crazy fucker just throw a grenade?" I said outloud.
"He did." responded a feminine voice. I turned my head and was startled to see Theresa right next to me holding a shotgun and smoking a cigarette. "I saw him throw it."
"The fuck!?" I yelled
"What!?" The old man shouted back, "Is someone there with you!?"
"Nah! Just...a friend!"
"You consider me a friend?" said Theresa.
"Theresa what are you doing!? Get outta here!"
"I'm curious. Someone's shooting up my bar, do you really think you're the only one with questions?" She exhaled smoke through her nose. "Just ask your questions, and as soon as he answers, I'll leave you alone."
"This ain't even your bar…"
"I've been working here for 10 fucking years. It's my bar."
I didn't have time to argue, I needed to know what the hell was going on.
"So, are ya gonna tell me what's going on, or what?" I shouted at the man through the noisy hail of bullets. "First off, what's your name!?" Just then, something slid my way. It was a walkie talkie, the same one the old man was talking into. I looked at Theresa and she shrugs. I hesitantly pick it up. "He-Hello?"
"My name is Tyrell." his voice came through. "I'm someone who knew your father, someone who's trying to fix this mess he started."
"You keep mentioning my 'dad', Jake. Just what the hell did he do to make this happen!?"
"Your father is Jake Conway, a vietnam vet whose brother was murdered the day he returned back home from the war. The kid's name was Mikey, smart kid, never really was the biker type. He was killed by a gang known as the Devil's Hand." As Tyrell was explaining himself, the gunshots outside grew louder. Actually, it wasn't that they were louder, it was just that there was more of it. Yelling and explosions filled the streets, yet Tyrell continued explaining without hesitation.
"Now you may be wondering why the Devil's Hand wanted to kill Mikey. It wasn't just Mikey, see. It was every Conway. Jake's old man, your grandfather, made a bet with their leader, Caesar. The bet was on a woman. Caesar won, but your grandad's a sore loser, and took back his girl while shooting the shit out of as many Devil's Hand thugs as he could. Ever since then, the Conways have always been in at war against the Devil's Hand."
"What about Jake? What the hell did he do?"
"Well, your dad-"
"Don't say he's my dad, man. He's nobody to me, just say Jake." I was still high on adrenaline, and sheer curiosity was forcing me to not blackout from the gunshot. I was going to find out what the hell had happened, even if it kills me. Which it might.
"Fair enough. Jake took out every single man of importance in the Devil's Hand. He killed their lieutenants, their generals, their majors, and damn well killed more than half of their goons. In the end, he even ended up killing Caesar himself…" The gunshots sounded fewer and fewer as time went by. He continued "but that wasn't enough. The Devil's Hand rose back from nothing, and are stronger now than ever before. They control the entire goddamn country. Now they're after you."
"Why me?"
"Because you're a Conway. Like it, or not." The gunshots stopped. Everything was silent again.
I still had more to asked. I held up the radio to my face and opened my mouth, but nothing came out. I couldn't say anything, or hear anything. My vision was fading, the world was going black. I saw the floor getting closer and closer, and just like that, I was out.
