I do not own any of the characters you may recognize. Marta Alvarez and Shelby Alvarez are my own.
Crossroads
Chapter 1 Ambushed
POV: Marta Alvarez
I didn't see it coming. I should have. In the world we live in, Mayans have enemies everywhere and being the nieces of the home charter President, we were never safe from outsiders. My sister, Shelby and I were coming back from Pelican Bay, picking up dues owed and acting as couriers for Uncle Chino. People in our neighborhood know better than to look at us twice which is lonesome. Familia is what matters here now and always.
We stopped for gas just outside the Lodi border. I went in to pay when I heard Shelby yell. She already had a broken bottle in her hand and was jabbing it into the air in the same rhythm as the profanity coming out of her mouth. I dropped the money to the clerk for gas and ran out. It was two of them. They were ranting about how no one disrespects their MC and Alvarez needed to learn his place in the food chain. Tio Marcus was like our father. He took care of us when Papi died in a prison riot in Stockton 10 years ago and this would not stand with either of us. I grabbed a wrench off a car in the garage and wacked the second one as Shelby slashed the first one in the face. I never saw the third one. He was about 6'3 250 pounds and more ink on him that the encyclopedia. He slammed me into the car and I went down. He picked me up by my shirt and tried to bash me again but Shelby had jumped on his back. The first one, short, long black greasy hair slung a bat at me as I tried to get up. He nicked me on the side of the head. I fell back taking the gas hose with me. The second one, blonde with the blood on his face was recovering. I knew we couldn't fight them off not because we were girls but out –numbered. We had left the guns inside a tampax box to fool the street blockade earlier. Male cops don't look as these things. They all get squeamish about periods. My hearing was somehow off on the right where the bat got me. My only hope was to be smart and quick. The idiot was too busy relishing the moment of me on the ground to notice the gas dripping in his direction. I turned to get up and run but he grabbed me by my ankle. I grabbed the hose and sprayed him. As he muttered every version of bitch whore he could muster, I found what I was looking for , my lighter. He lit up like a firecracker. It was enough to distract the other two. They tried to help their brother but it was far too late. Shelby pulled me up and we made it for the car. As we drove away, they shot at us and got the rear wheel.
We would have to ditch the car. My cell was gone. I must've of dropped it and Shelby'
got smashed when that short son of a bitch dropped kicked her. We got into a quiet neighbor and left it in the alley. We were both limping and bloodied. We needed help and soon. It wouldn't take long for re-enforcements and I felt like I was going to pass out any minute. I don't think that bat really nicked my ear. I think it did hit it. My equilibrium was so lost. We decided to duck into this back yard. The lady of Guadalupe shrine was adorned with flowers. God fearing people may be willing to take us in. It was a shot and it was our only one. I could hear tire streaks. They must be close.
POV: Shelby
I think that son of bitch broke my rib. Those bastards and their bullshit MC!. Who did they think they were talking to me like that? Son of a bitch had the nerve to tell me that he was going to take me back to his clubhouse and pass me around like a blunt and send me back to my uncle in a box for collecting dues on their turf. I was not about to be violated and I had to protect my sister, our honor, our family. So I grabbed the bottle off the edge of the truck and smashed it. Ok asshole I'd like to see you try. Apparently though, they had thought this through. I should have noticed the tail but low riders in this part of town are all the same. Now it's just time to fight, and get our asses back to Oakland. When we made it to the car I knew it wasn't over but we had to get back on certifiable home turf. We both had it bad but I think Marta took the worst of it. There was no way we would end up on the 6 o'clock news – beaten, raped, and killed.
I struggled to the back door with Marta swaying. She's bleeding a lot. I bang and yell in Spanish for help. These two older women open the door and I beg for sanctuary. The lady in the pink apron waves us in and looks cautiously out as she closes the door.
The both confer in Spanish that the police would call attention to their interference with street
wars and they are too old to run. I hear the one in yellow say I'm calling Armando, he'll know what to do. Marta passes out. There's just too much blood. Before long everything goes black for me too probably from one too many slams into the car. Maybe it's a concussion because I know only my hands are bloodied from the bottle and my lip from a right hook.