Souls Unfractured

Shaking my head to focus, I saw AK hold up his hand and signal to the left. It led us to a side street. A street much quieter than the main road. Less witnesses.

Seeing the Chechen town car up ahead, we came to a stop.  AK got off his bike. Vike and I pulled to a stop a few yards back. Hush and Cowboy pulled to a stop right behind. I heard them get out of the truck and walk to the front.

Then a blinding rush of heat surged through my body. They’d been coming more and more since I’d been tied down in that fucking hospital for weeks on end. I curled my hands, sharp fingernails digging into my palm. I counted my breaths, in and out, swallowing back the craving to take my blade out on the public road.

“Y’all good man?” I heard from behind. Turning my head, Cowboy was staring at me, his shades now in hand, Stetson shading his narrowed eyes. He was right next to Hush, my mixed race brother with the bright blue eyes. He was sitting on the hood of the truck with this thick-set arms across his chest. The Cajun newly patched brothers were always together.

I grunted, just as another wave almost knocked me off my fucking bike.

“He’s good,” Vike said from in front of me. I fixed my attention forward, seeing AK talking to a guy in a suit.

As my nails dug in, I tracked the people on the streets. Men, women, kids. Then my eyes stopped on a woman holding a little baby in her arms, a little boy by her side, holding her dress.

Like taking a hit to the back with a crowbar, all the air left my lungs. My nails dug deeper into my palm. The woman was smiling at the little boy, then she smiled at the baby. I could feel my body shaking. I could feel my stomach tightening.

Shut the fuck up, boy, and get down there. I heard his voice say in my head. Sinners belong in the dark.

Then I could hear her begging, Leave him alone. Please, just leave him alone…

I blinked. I shook my head, desperately trying to get their voices out of my head. I shot my eyes to AK. He was still talking to the Chechen. I could hear grunts and growls coming from my throat. I stood off my saddle.

Viking’s head turned to me. “Flame?” he said slowly, but I didn’t look at him. I needed AK to hurry the fuck up. I had to get out of this fucking place. I looked to my right. The woman was still there with the baby and the boy. They were crossing the road. Then the blood drained from my face.

The little boy was looking at me as they waited. His eyes were watching me, just me. He pointed at my bike and said something to his mother. She smiled at him. His mother smiled at him. Then he waved. My nails dug in harder. But vomit was clawing up my throat. The pain of sharp nails didn’t remove the sick feeling in my stomach, of the puke climbing up my throat. I stood, watching the boy wave as he began to cross the road, and I froze.

My eyes were filling with black spots. My throat was closing up, as the darkness crept in. I couldn’t take the darkness. I couldn’t stand the motherfucking darkness.

I was losing my shit.

“Flame. Brother. You need to calm the fuck down. You need to breathe. You’re growling out loud. You’re fucking pulling attention.” Vike was in front of me, but the black spots were blurring his face. “You’re having one of your freak outs. Just try to breathe.”

“The flames,” I said as my fingers began clawing at the skin on my throat. “The flames are choking me. They’re fucking choking me.”

“Fuck!” Viking spat. I saw AK up ahead turning to look at me. His eyes found me. He quickly said something to the Chechen.

AK began walking back. I counted his rushed steps. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven—

Then three loud bangs suddenly shot out into the street, the clear sound of gunfire piercing through my head.

“Get down!” Hush shouted from behind. But I couldn’t. My eyes scanned the road, tracking the people falling to ground. The Chechen had been hit. His body sprawled on the asphalt, blood leaking from his skull.

My body burned, burned with need to kill as I searched for the shooters. Then a high-pitched scream almost burst my ears. I ran forward. But the more the screaming came, the more I lost my shit.

Then I stopped dead, heart beating way too fast, black spots still filling my eyes. The mother had been shot. The little boy sat beside her, crying… and the baby… the baby was no longer in its white blanket. It was on the ground. Its legs were kicking. Its arms were flailing. Its face was red with its cries.

I glanced back to the little boy who was beside his mother. He was crying, this time looking at the baby on the ground. But he couldn’t touch it. He couldn’t fucking touch it.

Then he looked up at me. He looked up at me and held out his arms. His face was pleading. His mother was shot, but he held up his arms for me.