Chapter 32 - Holding on to You
Nelly woke up to the lull of an old engine in a dusty back seat of a car. As soon as she opened her eyes, she recognized it as her father's Olds. Fear was rising in her stomach as Nel sat up and tried to get her bearings. She saw that Troy was driving. A barren desert stretched all around them, broken by red mountains outlined against purple dusk of the horizon. They passed a highway marker, a white shield with black letters. It read COLORADO U.S. 160. And then she remembered. The sting in her arm and the feeling of a needle going in.
An uncontrolled sob ripped out of her chest. The old bastard made good on his promise. Troy was driving to his parents' house in Wichita. And every second travelled on this empty highway was taking her farther away from Harry and Charming. Nelly wanted to roar with grief and anger, but her throat felt tight and dry.
Troy noticed movement behind him. "Up so soon? This stuff was supposed to knock out a horse for a day."
"You can't do this to me!" Nel wanted to scream, but her voice came out a raspy whisper.
She saw the reflection of Troy's eyes in the rear view mirror. They were bloodshot and shifty. Her old man was sneaking a look at the seat next to him, and she was instantly gripped by panic. What if he had a gun?
Guided by instinct more than reason, she reached around the driver's seat and put her thin arms around his neck, pulling back as hard as she could. Troy gasped and clawed at the skin of Nel's arm, but her grip was firm and unrelenting. The car began veering off the pavement and onto the sandy shoulder. Nelly didn't care what happened next, as long as they stopped moving forward. But before Troy had a chance to either stop the car or crash it, he reached to the seat next to him, then plunged a needle in her arm and emptied the syringe. Nelly felt a searing pain, then the world swirled around her and turned to black.
+0+
Harry was sure that if Nel was to come back, she'd come here, to him, so he parked himself on the front porch of his father's house. Piney and Jax tried to console and encourage, while Gemma assured him that Simon couldn't have been involved. Chief Unser came by, telling him that maybe new information would come to light, maybe witnesses would come forward in the next few days, that Harry needed to be patient. But Harry could barely contain his rage and guilt, and desperate tears. How could he be patient while Nelly was missing? What he needed was to find Nelly, except he had no idea where else to look. This feeling of complete uselessness was gnawing at him day and night. Their words – however kind and well-intentioned - did nothing to appease his fears, the prickling needles down his spine that wouldn't let Harry sit still. With every passing minute, somewhere in the depth of him, Harry knew that the longer he waited, the farther Nelly was taken away from him, and at that rate, he would never catch up to her.
+0+
As if feeling Nelly's absence, Linda's condition began to deteriorate, her body loosing the will to go on. She passed away quietly, never having come out of the coma. SAMCRO took care of all arrangements. There were only a few people at the funeral, among them Donna and her family. Harry shouldn't have been surprised to see them. Linda and the Parkers were linked by Nelly, he remembered, and his heart caved in at that thought all over again. Donna was very different from the shy, scared girl he met at the dance. She seemed to stand a little taller and there was a hard, determined expression in her eyes. There was new strength in her, new confidence too, as she approached Harry while he was walking away from the grave. She pulled on his sleeve to stop him and said, "Hey, remember me? Your name's Harry, right?"
"Opie." He corrected her. His other name brought back too many memories.
Donna looked at her feet, hesitating, then said, "I'm sorry about Nelly."
"She's not dead," Harry replied defiantly and turned his face away. He didn't want her to see him swallow tears. When he could trust himself to speak again, he admitted, "But it feels like we've buried her today."
"We can't give up hope, Opie. Maybe she'll get in touch soon, let us know where she is."
He nodded without conviction and changed tracks, "You must miss her."
"Yeah, I do," she breathed out a big, sad sigh, "And I regret pushing her away. I've wasted all this time I could have have spent with her..."
Harry had his own regrets. Of not protecting Nelly better, of letting go when he should have listened to his gut and stayed. He watched sunlight play in the birch trees towering over graves, then said, "She missed you too."
Donna seemed lost for words. She turned to go, then came back and said, "Listen, if you hear anything about Nelly, will you let me know?"
He nodded, "Will do. You too."
She nodded back and walked away.
+0+
Within days after Nelly's disappearance, it became clear that Troy was gone too. Without any urging from Opie, Piney sent out feelers to the Nomads, hoping that maybe some of their scattered brothers had a word or a glimpse of Nel and her old man. Days passed and nothing came of it. Even a state-wide missing person report was useless. There was no sign of Nelly.
There was only one more lead they didn't tap into. Ernest Darby, the skinhead boss of the Nords. Piney remembered well the night when Darby came on to Nelly in front of her father's house, and the cozy relationship he seemed to have with Troy Hathaway. If there was anyone with some answers, then Darby would be it. Opie and his old man found him well past midnight in a dark parking of a strip joint. The skinhead was fond of the place and usually left full of liquor. They approached him soundlessly as Darby was fumbling for his car keys. Before the bold man knew what was happening, he had a black hood over his head, his hands and knees bound, and he'd been tossed into the bed of a truck. Opie hopped in after him, while Piney took the wheel. They drove down to the woods and found a secluded hunting trail. Darby thrashed and yelled in anger, but it didn't do him any good. Once the truck stopped deep in the trees, Opie rolled him out of the truck bed and the skinhead dropped to the ground like a brick. Piney yanked the man to his knees. For a long moment, the only sounds around them were Darby's ragged breath and the song of crickets.
"Just do it." He rasped with defiance.
"Aren't you in a hurry to meet the devil." Piney pulled off the hood and gave Darby a cold smile. "Remember me?"
"Oh, shit."
"Not happy to see me?"
"What the fuck do you want?"
Piney bent down, his face levelled with Darby's, "Information. About Troy Hathaway, and more precisely about his daughter."
"That sweet piece of ass? Oh, I was so close..." He didn't get a chance to finish, as Opie's fist connected swiftly with his jaw. Darby fell over in a heap. Oh, it felt good, hitting something responsible for Nelly's misery, thought Opie, and channelling all of his futile anger and misery into the blow.
"This will get you nothing." the skinhead groaned.
"You'd be surprised. We're just getting started." Piney pulled the big bold man back to his knees, "Now don't blame my son for being upset. It's his girl you're disrespecting. He's plenty angry. And he's plenty strong."
Opie pulled up Darby's face with a firm hand, so their eyes would meet, "Where is she?"
"Oh, did the young filly run off on you?" Darby was rewarded with another hit to the face. This one broke his lip and smeared blood across his teeth. He spat and laughed. "Who wouldn't run from a green squirt like you? What she needed was a real man."
Opie didn't hesitate to hit him again, aiming at the nose. It gave a satisfying crunch and made Darby groan in pain. He fell over again, his breathing wet and laboured.
"Not laughing now, are you?" Opie wiped his bloody hand with a bandana.
Piney leaned over Darby. "Information," he repeated.
"I know nothing."
"You lie." Said Opie, then his steel toe boot slammed into Darby's ribs. The man on the ground cried out. Other than being an outlet for his frustration, this was getting them nowhere fast.
"Let's try this again." the older biker said evenly, "What do you know about Troy and Nelly leaving town?"
A few long seconds passed, before Darby found his voice, "Troy has parents in Cheyenne, in Colorado. He said he'd take the girl there if she ever got in too deep with bikers."
Opie was aiming at him again, when his father stilled his arm and asked the man on the ground, "Have you heard from Troy since they've disappeared?"
"No. He's been off the grid."
"See, it wasn't so hard." The patched Son cut the rope binding Darby's hands and knees, then studied him for a long moment. He added, "If you're lying, we'll be back. Understand?"
Darby said nothing and he didn't move. As Opie and his dad made their way to the truck, they heard a wet chuckle coming from the skinhead. It was more of a sob than a laugh, but it got under Opie's skin. As he slammed the truck door shut, he said to his father, "How do we know he was telling the truth?"
Piney sighed, "I can't say I trust this sack of shit, but it's the only lead we've got, son."
Opie had to agree, it was more than they had when the day began. Even the most bleak hope, the most remote possibility, was better than none.