Hunter’s Ride

From my extremely popular online Dr. Howler’s Series of Nightmares, I present to you this morning for your reading pleasure one of my most popular pieces in that Series.  Throw in motorcycles, a missing cub, and the Majave Desert, and you quickly learn that “Hell has no fury like a woman scorned,” or a Mama Bear on the prowl.


Hunter’s Ride

I’m a woman with a heart of gold.  The kind who wouldn’t even harm a flea.  But, I’m also a new mother and my baby son is my whole life.  Don’t mind the tattoos that cover my arms.  I ride a Harley and belong to a motorcycle gang.  And, your point is, Amigo?  I am also a peaceful woman, to a point.  But, don’t press me.  Especially where Hunter is concerned.

My divorce was especially nasty.  Chalk that up to the moron I married.  The biggest mistake I ever made in my entire life!  What an absolute L-O-S-E-R!  Hey, maybe I loved his hog much more than I ever loved him…which I never did.

Hunter was only ten weeks old and I have sole custody of him.  I give him everything he needs:  food, diapers, love.  You name it, it’s his.  And, I had a bad feeling about having to, and believe me it was by court order only, allow my ex to take him for the weekend.  This was the first time the dog would have my son without supervision, and I had a very uneasy feeling something was going to happen.  Needless to say, it did.  Now, it was Monday morning and my baby had not been safely returned to me.  My ex-old man had skipped town.  He wasn’t supposed to leave with Hunter to go anywhere.

I was royally pissed off and this Mama Bear was on the warpath.  Not a good combination!  They say there is nothing worse than a scorned woman and all-out war had been declare to get my baby back.  Rumor had it the Dip Stick had ferreted Hunter across the state line to California.  And, all kinds of red flags were waving.  See, he had done time in the slammer for doing things to little boys he shouldn’t have done.

That was before I ever hooked up with him, and I had only recently learned that little insider secret.  My ex had ridden with my boys under the stars one night, and I guess rocks got in my head.  One thing led to another, and spreading my legs just felt so right.  So, to lust I did give in.  Told you it had been the biggest mistake of my life.  Now, two things were going to happen.  I grabbed my Glock and called the boys.  “All for one and one for all” is the creed of our gang.  When one of us needs help, no doubt about it.  It’s there.  In spades.

My boys wanted blood almost as much as I did.  The law of the jungle says the fittest survives.  As the gang’s leader, no one questioned my call.  They just mounted their rides and we headed West.  It wouldn’t take but about three hours of hard riding to reach our destination.  Then, all Hell would break loose.  Still, I remained as calm, cool, and collected as a she-wolf in heat could be.  Of course, what I planned to put my ex through did run rampantly through my mind.  Oh, he would rue the day he was born!  That would be all the pleasure he would know.

The sun blasted down as we made our way into the desert.  I raised my clinched fist and my boys circled their bikes around me waiting for my instructions.  Which were simple.  Reportedly, the small hole-in-the-wall known as Mojave was our destination.  I had been told this before we began our trek.

I wanted the boys to ride in and ask around in the only saloon I saw on the gravel road running through town.  I also informed them if we don’t get the details I wanted to tear the joint up until we did.  My boys liked the sound of those words.  They wanted some action, and with my baby on the line, I wasn’t going to deny them their pleasure.

We rode into town with a cloud of dust trailing behind our bikes.  Arriving at the two-bit joint, I dismounted first.  My boys in tow.  Then, I made my way into the rundown, sleazebag bar, slowly looked around and found the bartender.  The patrons in the packed place were terrified.  Some of them slinked out the door as fast as they could move.  I got right up in the bartender’s face.  I could smell his whiskey breath.

I demanded what I wanted to know and he, wiping the top of the bar down with a filthy rag, told me, “Ma’am, I don’t want no trouble…please.”

Ma’am.  I liked his manners. They indicated he still had a slim chance to see tomorrow.

“That’s your call,” I told him, “all I want is my son back.  Seen him?” I uttered my ultimatum shoving Hunter’s picture in the dude’s face.

“Was here an hour back,” the Nervous Nellie told me as quickly as he could get the words out of his mouth.  He looked at my boys just milling around awaiting my word to trash him and his place.

Then, the bartender informed me, “There’s an old shack on the dirt road outside of town.  The guy had a few.  Said he planned to turn the kid over to some people.  Something ’bout ten big ones.  But, you didn’t hear none of that from me.”

I patted the bartender on the shoulder and said, “Good boy!  That’s all I needed to know.  Now, here’s your ticket to keep breathing air.  Get!  Before one of my boys gets a little ansy and starts a carving project I won’t be able to stop.”

I never saw a 70-year old man run so fast in my life.  I grabbed a bottle of his best from off the counter, and sauntering out the door, gave my boys a two-finger salute.  While they had their fun destroying the place, I waited for them outside.  They gotta burn off some excess energy once in a while.

The shack the old codger told me about seemed deserted as we rode up.  Then, I spotted my ex’s Honda CBR600 bike, half concealed behind it.  Just like him to be too stupid to even conceal the ride so it could not be seen.  His BAD mistake!  Ever wanted to push a prized motorcycle over with a loud crash?  He wouldn’t be needing his no more.  But, the sound made him crawl out of his hole.

“You got one half split second to give me Hunter!” I strongly warned him, the loaded Glock in my hand, “Then, I blow your brains out!”

He froze in place, “I can explain,” he tried to tell me knowing I had the bead on him.

“Here’s all the explaining that’s gonna happen,” I snapped back at him, then told my boys, “grab your chains.  I see a little dragging contest in your immediate future.”

My comment terrified my ex.  And, it should have.  Being dragged behind a roaring bike doesn’t leave much of a body behind, and that, I decided was my ex’s fate.  One of my boys turned to his saddlebag and produced a ten foot long metallic chain.  It would get the job done nicely, thank you.  My ex stood there knowing his life was O-V-E-R!

“Let me grab Hunter first,” I instructed him, “then I’ll meet you back in Nevada.”

And, that is how the deal went down.  This is one Mama Bear who’s cub you don’t mess with.  My boys and I still ride, and we are still our peaceful loving selves, as we always have been.

Sleep tight my little munchkins!

Until next time – Doctor I.B. Howler, Nightmarologist

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The Nashville Freelancers

***Brett Matthew West is a Nashvillian and a long time Freelance Writer.  His myriad of feature articles have been published in a vast array of newspapers and magazines around the United States.  He also possesses an extensive online presence for his Short Stories.***


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