Page 79
We rode through town.
People meandered the sidewalks, and their eyes blew wide as they all stalled out in their tracks.
No question they could feel it.
The destruction that howled and bashed. An approaching hurricane.
My turn approached, I lifted my hand and swirled it over my head, indicating for my team to follow.
We’d break into three sections. Each group heading either east, north, or south, winding around as if we were going in the opposite directions.
Confounding our paths before we converged and descended on Portland.
On the greedy, gluttonous fucks who fed fentanyl into their streets and further up to Seattle.
Our society’s mission.
Eradicate the organized.
Obliterate with no blemish of mercy.
Because we were the merciless.
The condemned who were happy to dispatch the filth out ahead of us.
We ditched our bikes at a dive bar six miles away and piled into the unmarked white van that was waiting for us.
Regan drove while the rest of us itched in the back.
Words silenced, though our bodies shouted of the coming violence.
Brody quivered with barely hinged adrenaline.
Our watches ticked to ten minutes past midnight.
Right on time.
City lights burned through the foggy mist that slithered like phantoms over the damp, rain-soaked streets.
Fury suffused the oxygen, the silence so thick you could taste the aggression that coated it.
Silas and his crew would be hitting the warehouse at the docks, Phoenix and his a safehouse where the product was moved before distribution.
Us? We twisted our way up the hill beneath ancient trees, their colors beginning to change, passing by gated drives that fronted upscale homes tucked behind wrought-iron fences for safe keeping.
We slowly eased the van onto an unused drive about a quarter of a mile away, the spray of headlights glinting through the gloom that we traversed.
We wound all the way to the end where there was vacant property for sale.
Regan glanced over his shoulder as he killed the engine, and I dipped my chin to give the go.
Teeth gritted, I unlatched the side door and slowly slid it open.
The grind of metal was muted, and I kept my ear tuned to our surroundings.
Only quiet echoed back, and I gestured with my glove-covered hand.
Go.
