said Ash. "Go pee on this and bring it back."
I went to the bathroom down the hall and did as I was told. When I was done, I wrapped the small plastic stick in toilet paper and clutched it tight in my hand, not daring to look at the results.
I brought it back to my room. I held my hand out and uncovered the plastic stick.
"Tell me what it says," I told her.
She bent over to look.
"Oh, shit."
35
Axl
When I finally woke up in the infirmary, the sun was already setting. I didn't know what time it was and the doc was nowhere to be seen. My head felt like a fuckin' Mack truck was parked on it. I was getting real sick of waking up feeling like a train crashed into my head every damn day. Maybe Holly was right, I should've called it quits right then and lived out my days on a golf course in Florida. Sure would've been more fun than this.
I reached up and felt my face. There was a big bandage over my right eye, but otherwise everything felt intact.
Can't lie. Even though I was fucked up, I felt a little proud. Like a fuckin' bull. That piece of shit Dash had beamed me with an iron crowbar and left me for dead, and not a day later, here I was, gettin' better. Gettin' ready. Ready to fuckin' find him and finish the job that he didn't.
When I got my hands on him, there wouldn't be a second chance for him. He wouldn't wake up later. In fact, no one would find him at all. And what I was gonna do to him was a fuckin' tickle compared to what I was gonna do to Lynch.
Five or ten minutes later, I heard talking at the infirmary door. Big Mikey came waltzing in, just like nothing had ever gone down. But the expression on his face was one of relief. Didn't think the bastard was capable of worrying, but I guess I understood. I would've been distraught as fuck if this shit had happened to him.
"Hey, sunshine," he said. "You are one lucky motherfucker."
"Not lucky," I said, trying to put on an air of bravado. "Just built like a fuckin' bull." I forced a grin.
Mikey smiled back. "Yeah, you fuckin' handled that. What was it, a crowbar?"
"Yeah," I said, my smile dropping. "Beaten senseless by my own fuckin' crowbar." It pissed me off. I'd paid good money for that thing.
Big Mikey sat down on a stool next to the bed where I lie, and he put a hand on my shoulder. "Where's your head at in all of this?" He asked me.
I gritted my teeth, my lips contorting with displeasure. "You know me. So you know where it's at," I said.
Big Mikey nodded. "I wanna see these guys go down, too. But I overheard what your old lady said to you, son."
I shrugged. "Don't eavesdrop on me."
"Overheard," he emphasized. "Look, all I'm sayin' is that you've managed to have an ace in the sleeve when it's counted. Twice recently. But there comes a time when a man needs to be smart, and to assess the risks he's takin' on."
"I've assessed," I said, "I've assessed and I'm goin' the fuck in."
Big Mikey was choosing his words carefully. It was plain to see that he was torn up about the whole thing. Getting sentimental over me. That was the bad word. It was dangerous. And weak.
"Look son," he said, shifting his tactics, "I just don't wanna see you rush into some foolhardy mission and get fucked up."
"I'm ready for whatever happens," I said. "I've got nothin' left now. No club, no honor, no friends, no family. Ain't got shit."
"That ain't true," said Big Mikey. He was motioning with his hands as he spoke, his palms up, almost as if he were pleading his case to me. "You've got your old lady. You've got me. And you've always got the NOMADs. You've got a spot in this place anytime you want."
"Thanks, Mikey," I said. "But I ain't got many options left now. This is gonna be a one-way mission, man."
Mike's eyes narrowed and his expression was one of worry. "What does that mean?" he asked.
"There's only one way to get those fuckers who crossed me. And that's at the Sons clubhouse. They ain't gonna let their guard down anywhere else."
Mikey tipped his head, looking at me with disapproval. "You ain't sayin' what I think you're sayin', are you?"
"Yeah," I