For anyone who knows me, it should come to no surprise that I joined an MC as soon as I had the opportunity. I’ve always been drawn to the thrill of riding, the freedom of the open road, but most importantly, to the sense of belonging to community that values loyalty, camaraderie and unity above all else.
I wasn’t actively looking for a group, to be honest. I’d obtained my motorcycle license fresh out of high school and did not pursue a club until much later in life, in my mid 30s to be precise. After I’d gotten my career on track and realized I was feeling lonely, I started hanging out in motorcycle bars, going to biker parties, and riding with fellow bikers as often as given the chance. Soon after, I met Clyde Stryker. Or shall I say, I re-met Clyde. Him and I go way way back, his daughter, Bea, and my younger brother, Jack used to go to school together. Once reconnected with Clyde, all the pieces just kinda fell together. Bea and Jack started hooking up. Jack also got his motorbike license, Bea already had hers. They started joining us at parties and on rides. Then, I met Damian, my age, my type. Damian brought by his own little brother, Theo, and the six of us found ourselves always together, plotting, planning, having fun. It was during one of our many gatherings at Clyde’s house that he came up with the idea.
“Hey Cristina”, he said to me, “what about if we found an MC?”
“A Management Committee?”, I joked. Of course, I knew what an Motorcycle Club was. We’d discussed joining one, but no club likes to take six prospects at once, save for the somewhat violent gang-like ones. And that was not our scene.
“That’s not a bad idea!”, Jack joined in, ignoring my bad joke.
“I agree!”, Theo chimed in.
“Well, let’s this be our first vote then!”, said Clyde, bringing out a piece of paper. “On this day, 31st October 2022, I push forward to found the… what shall our name be?”
“How about Stryker’s Spooky Riders, since it’s Halloween”, Bea proposed.
“Stryker’s Wicked Wheels?”, I suggested.
“Oooh I like that”, said a few voices in unison.
“That’s good”, confirmed Clyde. “So, today, 31st October 2022, I move forward the foundation of Stryker’s Wicked Wheels, or SWW, for short. I propose myself and Cristina as President and Vice-President, Bea as our Creative Director or CD, as she is into graphic design, Damian as our Treasurer since he works in finance, Jack, to be in charge with Prospects and Theo as our Secretary”, he said, jotting all of this down. I could tell he actually gave this a lot of thought, and this gave me confidence. He gave all of us confidence, he always did. So we all agreed, voted, signed dotted lines, Theo submitted the application later on and that was that.
By mid summer we were already known regionally, our patch, a wheel engulfed by a skull up in local bars. Shortly, we had a few prospects knocking at our door, saying they want to join us, that they liked our free spirits. Out of all the options, two stood out: Pamela, a super cool biker chick in her 50s who just left her old MC saying they were a bit misogynistic, and Mike or “Owl”, because he was sleeping all day and staying up all night. They were both presented with a Prospect patch and soon enough they were always riding with us.
Owl and Clyde were actually getting very close. Owl was this super charismatic guy, tall, rugged, with a dark long beard and long curly hair. Picture biker dude, close your eyes and you’re seeing Owl, I guarantee you. Clyde was mesmerized, I guess he always wanted he always wanted his rough interior to match his looks. But he was small, thin and practically hairless. That’s how I can explain why our President and founder was way more into his Prospect than his Prospect was into him, and us. Not long after, Owl and Clyde would disappear at odd hours of the night, in the middle of parties, doing God knows what.
“Where are you going again?”, Bea asked them one night, as they were headed out.
“Just around, we won’t be long”, said Owl.
I wanted to follow, but then I realized I was completely out of it. We all had a few drinks, I remember Owl bringing us shot after shot. So I made a mental note to stay sober next party.
The opportunity came last week when we hosted our first party. We rented a club, invited all the MCs in the area. We were so busy getting ready for the party, that we didn’t even notice that Clyde and Owl were barely there. In fact, I only realized something was off when Pamela, who had been carrying beer crates all morning said If the MC weren’t so nice to us and wasn’t co-ran by a girl, I wouldn’t have gone through the trouble of being a Prospect all over again, it’s too much work. Indeed, Prospects are expected to do the grunt work, all the heavy lifting. But Owl wasn’t even there that morning. I wondered if, as Vice-President, I should bring this up with the others, but I decided against it for the time being. I also decided that this was the night I would get to the bottom of whatever Clyde and Owl were up to.
The party was a success. We had over 20 MCs join us, nearly 200 people in total. I played good hostess, making sure not to run out of alcohol and that the grill was constantly burning. I spotted Owl passing people free shots every chance he had. He came up to me a few times as well, we cheered, and I pretended to drink his vodka. But I spat it out, every time, waiting for them to sneak off again. Sure enough, it didn’t take long. It must have been a few minutes before 1 am that I saw Clyde gently making himself scarce on one side of the room. In another part of the club, Owl was doing the same. It was go time. I pulled on my black hoodie for better camouflage, and followed them outside, making sure to keep my distance. Outside, Owl pulled something out of his backpack. He kept one and gave Clyde the other. They unwrapped them and put them on. Cloaks. Then they proceeded to walk towards the woods that started just across the street from our chosen club. It wasn’t easy to follow without making any noise. The woods were so silent that any branch cracking or leaf folding under my foot would echo and give me away. Luckily, I was sober and light footed and my presence went unnoticed.
As we ventured deeper into the forest, we came across a clearing bathed in eerie moonlight. There were more hooded figures, all in the same black cloaks that Owl and Clyde were wearing. They were all gathered around what seemed like an old tree. One of the figures, stepped forward and lit something. Under the light, I could distinguish that the hooded figure was wearing a different cloak than the rest, a red cloak. The fire was now in full swing, and the red-hood spoke:
“Bring forth the sacrifice!”
Three hooded figures went away from the scene and came back shortly with two toddlers. My heart sunk, as I was bracing myself for what would happen next. The toddlers, couldn’t be older than five, if that, seemed drugged. They were awake, but did not look conscious, and did not as much as yelp at the sight of the fire in the middle of the clearing.
“Blood and bone, soul of twins
Grant us power from within
Grant us life and grant us flight
In this sacred, unholy night.”
Chanted the red hooded figure once. The rest of the hoods followed suite, chanting the same verse over and over again, while the red hood grabbed the twins by their arms and tossed them in the fire. I covered my mouth to stop myself from screaming. The children didn’t even yelp, and for a second I thought maybe they weren’t real.
As soon as they started burning, the figure in red started levitating above the fire.
“Look upon me, mortals! Look how I draw power from the flames!”, he shouted as the chanting got louder and louder. “We are getting closer and closer to our final quest, that of summoning Vulcan, who will unleash fire and destructions to all non-believers, and most importantly, will grant us, his disciples IMMORTALITY!”
“VIVAT VULCUN”, started chanting the hooded figures.
I’d had enough. I ran out of the woods to call the police. But then I remembered the huge MC party, not entirely legal, happening next door and thought better of it. Of course, it was cowardly. But I told myself I’d call them first thing in the morning, the twins were already dead, what good would it do them?
Early next day, I ran into the woods, but there was nothing there. I kept telling myself that the kids were dolls and this was all a drug rave, but when I started doing more research, I found missing children reports, missing animal reports, all in the area. The last report was from a week ago, and it featured twins.
I contemplated telling Damian, or Jack or someone. But by our rules of the club, all suspicions should be brought up to the whole group. To Clyde. To Clyde and his charismatic Owl. Also, with no information about the other people present, I didn’t want to risk. No, I will contact the police, and told them to be ready ahead of time. I will follow them into the woods and catch them in the act. There is another party this weekend. This weekend, no child will die, I will be ready.