A Bad Life

Blood and Tears

The panhead screamed around yet another corner as Mattis grabbed a gear and pinned the throttle wide open. He'd lost the SUV that had been following him through the suburbs and realised he needed to stitch himself up again. The blood loss had him woozy and the old rigid bike was swerving haphazardly. Rest, recover, return he thought to himself. Some bastard had to pay for fucking up his last friend and family. Gritting his teeth he turned a corner and saw an old pub tucked into the quiet suburb. He carefully parked the bike amongst the others out the front, between a Harly and a hot pink Kawasaki. His vision was a little blurry as he gave his i.d. to the Maori beside the door. He looked him up and down before asking "you ok, bro? You look kinda sick" Mattis coughed a little and answered back "just a long day at work mate. You know how it is welding in this heat. Drive a man to drink" he smiled thankful that it was dark enough to hide most of the blood on his arm and chest under his vest. The Maori handed back his i.d. "no worries bro. Just make sure you ask Uncle Joe if it's ok to keep your colours on while you're inside" Mattis smiled then had to grit his teeth as the big bouncer slapped him on the back encouragingly. Walking up to the bar he realised this pub belonged to another motorcycle club entirely. He saw eyes following him from the bikers around the room as he sat on a barstool. An old man limped over with his cane as Mattis blinked away the spots in front of his eyes. "Son you must have balls of steel coming in here with a different clubs colours on your back. I admire that. You be polite and respectful and I'm sure Hendrix won't mind. What can I do ya for" Mattis blinked again "straight vodka as much as you can give me and coke." He shook his head, he knew shock would set in soon if he didn't get a hefty amount of sugar into him. As the Uncle Joe poured the drinks in front of him a slightly built man came over. He held out his hand and Mattis looked him in the eyes. He knew the stare that greeted him and felt sorry for the man immediately. He shook his hand as the man spoke "Hendrix, Stand in President for the Nomad Crusaders, Sydney and Australia chapters. Who are you and what is a Hell Digger doing here?" Mattis swayed slightly on his chair "John... Mattis and probably the only Hell Digger left after tonight" the swaying got worse as he turned and chugged the coke. Hendrix fixed him with a questioning look. Mattis swayed again before seeing a black tunnel rushing to him. It engulfed him as he fell and hit the floor.

"Son of a bitch! Look at his chest Aunty Sarah" SLAP! "NO BLOODY SWEARING IN MY HOUSE JAMES!" "Sorry Aunt, but look his arms ripped up and he has letters carved in his chest! Something bads happened. He said he was the last Digger left". A tutting noise followed by pain brought Mattis into the present. He bolted upright and was greeted with a cuff around the ear. Instincts kicked in as he lashed out. He felt a blow connect before a gentle hand grabbed his shoulder firmly and turned him to face an old stone faced woman "Boy you passed out in my bar, bled on my couch and used up my last lot of good suture wire. Not to mention belted my nephew. You better start talking about the things you've done tonight or I'm having the boys dump you with the police. Mattis glanced around the room. The man in the bar, Hendrix had a bloody nose and looked murderous as three other bikers stood by the door. All seemed wary, expecting trouble. Mattis coughed as the elderly woman passed him a glass of water. He drank quickly before looking at her again. Her kind eyes betrayed her hard exterior. His mind ran overtime connecting dots. It was her and Hendrix talking. She must be a nurse or doctor to have stitched him up. The place looked secure and there was no fighting his way out in his condition. He deflated. "The Hell Diggers were ambushed by several people armed with automatic weapons. I was outside with a good man and brother. We went to help he took several rounds to the chest. He pushed me out of the way...." He swallowed hard as the last few minutes of Chookas life flashed through his mind, "saved my life. I rode like a bat out of hell. Shock was setting in, needed to clean my wounds and get some sugar in me. Needed to hide" he buried his face in his hands as Hendrix ordered the other three men. They quickly left to follow orders. "What's your name?" Old Aunt Sarah asked he swallowed "I was given the name Mattis but before I was John. John Marsden" Sarah nodded and pulled Hendrix aside "He needs rest dear. The old workshops still good for you. We had it set up as a welcome home present for you. Everyone pitched in but now I think you and Mattis here need to lay low there. Who knows who or what would do this to a club" Hendrix nodded and walked back to the couch, wiping at the blood still seeping from his nose. "Can you walk mate?" "I was in the military. This is just an excuse to be lazy if you listen to the Drill Seargent" a wry smile came to his lips as he slowly stood up. Old Aunt Sarah came over holding his pistol out. "You weren't getting this til I figured you weren't going to kill us young man" Mattis gently tucked the pistol into its holster again, silently amazed that even being shot at and riding like a madman, he'd remembered to secure it properly. He chuckled before grimacing at the pain in his right arm. Hendrix hugged his aunt "I'll grab Pinks bike tomorrow Old Aunt Sarah" the old woman held him close as she whispered an apology in his ear. "You picked a fine name son. We'l go together tomorrow." Hendrix sniffed and muttered a thanks before opening the door "Come on Mattis. Three blocks and we're home free. A safe bed for you as long as you need it" "one night will be fine thanks" a small wrinkled hand hit him in the back of the head "you'll bloody well stay as long as I say, young man. I'm the doctor here and whether you like it or not you'll follow orders" without even thinking Mattis snapped to attention, gave a crisp salute and shouted "YES MA'AM" Before remembering where he was. Hendrix sniggered as Old Aunt Sarah gave a look that resembled a cat who had just eaten all the cream to itself.