SEVERE
Carolina Hell Reapers Motorcycle Club
By: Keta Kendric
All rights reserved © 2023
***EXCERPT***
Severe
“Where’s your weird ass cousin?”
The question pulled me back into my current reality as well as made me slink farther into the dark corner in which I stood, eavesdropping.
“No disrespect, and if I ever go to hell, I want him with me. However, I execute people for a living, and he gives me the fucking creeps,” Popper, one of my Reaper brothers, told my cousin, Micah.
There was no other person in this building they could have been talking about except me.
“He’s not weird. It just takes an advanced brain like mine to know how to read him,” Micah replied.
A loud snort-laugh was Popper’s response.
“Tell that to the last ten poor fucks he’s killed. Most of his shit makes national news. It’s the kind of shit not even the Order can cover up. They are calling him the Antichrist.”
Popper dropped his head and lowered his voice, but I read lips better than most. “I got a few screws knocked loose myself, but him, he fucking talks to people who aren’t there. Aren’t you worried he might snap one day or some shit?”
Micah chuckled. “Nope. My cousin has his shit together better than you think.”
Popper’s quick side-eye said he wasn’t convinced.
Micah, as well as my cousins, Israel and Eli, were the only people who advocated for my sanity. They didn’t believe my mind was compromised. They were blindly optimistic when it came to me due to our blood relationship—my long-lost father was their uncle. However, they, as well as others, should have been afraid, very afraid, because there were times when I wasn’t altogether sure I could control what was living inside me.
Like now, instead of mingling with the rest of my club brothers, I was lurking, listening, and observing their behavior. Studying them while they were unaware was how I learned the proper mannerisms I needed when I faked my way through certain impromptu work issues.
I enjoyed the way most people regarded me with caution. It gave me a sick sense of pride to scare those who were labeled monsters themselves. Social gatherings or anything that involved people, laughing, and drinking made me want to swallow gasoline-soaked razorblades and chase them down with a lit Zippo.
An order from my cousin, Micah, also the president of our motorcycle club, was usually the only reason I attended any events. Locally, we were known as the Carolina Hell Reapers Motorcycle Club. This particular party was the club’s annual birthday celebration. The party was being hosted at the armory, the location known as our official club campus.
The women, the drinking, and the public displays of sexual acts that took place at our parties turned my stomach. The usual hang-arounds and ‘community pussy’ as my brothers called them, knew not to approach me.
People. They were too self-absorbed, talked too much, were emotional for no reason, and were too needy of attention. I craved solitude. Doing my job and doing it well was all the ego-stroking I needed.
I stepped from the shadows of the thick dusty curtains hanging from the floor-to-ceiling windows in the lobby of the old military barracks my cousins had converted into a ballroom. This old armory was the perfect clubhouse, hang-out spot, and stand-in for our real motorcycle club compound.
Ground Zero was like Area 51. Those who speculated about it would never find it, and the ones who believed it existed or knew of its existence were probably dead. The Order, who trained and funded us, didn’t even know about Ground Zero.
“Hi, handsome,” one of the newest hang-arounds slinked up to me, smiling like she could see my face through the brim of my black cap.
I reached out a hand to keep her from getting too close. She glanced at my pale hand before angling her neck up, attempting to get a peek at my face.
“Want to have some fun?” she asked, poking out her chest.
She left nothing to be desired in a red tube top and baby blue mini skirt she kept pulling down her legs.
“I want to know if a woman’s uterus will go into rigor if she dies while we’re fucking and I keep going while she’s dead.”
The smile melted from her face before she gulped down a hard swallow.
“Wh-what?” she asked, like her brain had trouble processing what I’d said. I took a step closer, towering over her, my low cap obscuring my face from her view. She was smart enough to step back.
“Would you like to be my test subject? My curiosity is getting the better of me,” I whispered, noticing goose bumps peppering her arms at my questions.
Mouth hanging open, she backed up, turned, and marched away so fast her heels wobbled under her quick steps.
“And there goes another one,” a familiar voice said behind me. I turned to meet Micah’s smiling face. “When are you going to stop scaring all the women away and actually fuck one of them?”
He was forgetting that I didn’t turn down all the women he and Israel sent to me for sexual gratification. I fucked them, just not with my own body parts.
He lifted a hand and squinted at whatever image had entered his mind. “Don’t answer that. The few you did touch never returned to any of our parties,” he said, shaking his head. He’d also tracked down a few to make sure I hadn’t murdered them.
“We’re having church tomorrow instead of Sunday. I also need to talk to you about something,” he said.
I knew what that something entailed, and the last thing I wanted to do was talk about the kill order I hadn’t executed yet. I nodded and stepped off, sensing my cousin’s eyes on my back as I sought the comfort of another dark corner.
***End of Severe excerpt***
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