Chapter 7

A Chapter by Judas Hammer

Down at the beach the dream is revealed.....

Chapter 7

Daruis woke in the trunk of a car with nothing but darkness to greet him.

The only sounds were laughing and music from inside of the car. It stopped and doors opened and footsteps came toward the trunk. The truck popped open suddenly and the darkness was replaced by the streetlights. Miguelito pulled a beaten Daruis from the trunk and threw him on the ground.

Daruis gathered his senses and noticed he was by the rocks by the bottom of the cliff at Cabrillo beach. A light dusting of sand covers him from head to toe as the cold ocean air baptized him. The crash of the waves could be heard in the distance as he stares up at the black blushish, starless sky. A ripping pain took off across his forehead. He crawled over to the lifeguard station and pulled himself upright, knowing that his life was over.

An air of dignity came over him.

“So this is where it ends. What a fitting place. The end of Pedro.”

Muerto held a chainsaw and Lil'Diablo gripped a rope and a huge, curved knife. Miguelito stared menacingly at Daruis with his chest puffed out,

“Your brother and the Nazi got off easy. You are going to die slow and painful. I'm going to tie you up then cut you to pieces slowly. Then we are going to throw you body parts in the water for the Sea Lions and Sharks. You fucked with the wrong men Homie.”

Daruis stumbled toward the center of the men. He put his arms in the air,

“You will do me a favor at least I won't have to sleep. The dream was killing me.”

Miguelito was disgusted in his lack of fight,

“Get this coke head and tie him up.

As the men took stepped forward, the sounds from a motorcycle engine rode out of the darkness. The roar of the motorcycle was deafening. Three bright lights came at the group. The men shielded themselves with their arms and screamed as the light blinded them. Shotgun blasts rip through the night as sand and blood flew everywhere. Screams mix with the waves to create a symphony from hell. Suddenly stopped as the bikers extinguished their lights.

Daruis checked the bodies of the dead gang members resting lifeless on the thick sand before the lifeguard station. Their blood splattered the sand and trickled into the dark cold beach. Daruis squinted passed the darkness to witness a tall, solid man coming towards him. He sighed a breath of relief then fell to his knees feebly. He stared at a wild angry Mangus.

“You okay Dar?”

Daruis dropped his head and answered,

“Cyrus is dead. They killed him.”

“He's with the Lord now. And these b******s are in Hell with their drug lord brother.” Belched Mangus.

Daruis, upon catching the last part of the statement became dismayed.

“Mangus. You killed Frog?”

He nodded and placed the single barreled hand gripped shotgun on his shoulder.

“He was dealing poison. He was doing the work of Satan. He had to die.”

“He had a family Mang. Three little kids.” Pleaded Daruis.

“It's better they don't grow up with a father like that.”

“They thought it was WEMAS that killed their brother.”

Mangus exclaimed proudly,

“No it was me and my Brothers in Christ.”

Mangus directed attention to the two big biker resting on their Hogs.

“What about all this Christian bike for Christ bullshit, Mang?”

Mangus screamed wildly, as his eyes exploded with excitement,

“I am Dar. We are Biker for the Lamb put here to wipe out the evil forces. There’s a war going on my friend. Between good and evil. Just like the Lord smite the people in Sodom and Gamoura, I like the Angel of Death do the lords bidding. Smiting the abomination before us. We will never stop until the evil of this town is wiped out completely.”

Daruis examine Mangus left arm and noticed the sling was off. He saw the tattoo of an Angel: the same one in all his dreams.

“The Angel. You’re the Angel. The Angel in my dreams.”

Mangus face turned peaceful. He walked over to his motorcycle and grabbed a tattoo needle,

“Bye Dar. I have work to do.”

Mangus printed a tattoo on the arm of the dead Miguelito. Daruis ran off into the darkness.

Daruis dragged his tired, beaten body into his tattoo parlor. He stood in front of the mirror searching himself. He glanced toward the back room and wept. He sought something in the mirror. He removed his shirt off and grabbed a tattoo needle. He pressed it to his pale chest and began to ink himself for two hours.

Again, looked into the mirror. He had completed a portrait of his brother on his chest with the words, Cyrus on the bottom of the tattoo. He had violated his own law and gone against his own belief. He sat back in the leather chair in front of the mirror. Sirens can be heard in the background. Police lights made their way through the window reflecting off of Daruis who sat in the chair staring hard at the tattoo. A lone tear trickles down his eye.