The deafening rumble of powerful engines echoed through the
stillness of the night as the Panthers rode their Harleys through town toward
their favorite bar. The moon, full and luminous, hung low in the sky, casting
an eerie glow on the rugged faces of the riders. Their leather-clad bodies were
silhouetted against the darkness, their tattoos and scars illuminated by the
moon’s pale light.
With practiced ease, they killed the engines and dismounted
their bikes. Raven, the gang’s robust leader, took off his helmet and shook his
head. His long, jet-black hair swung to his back, covering the black panther
painting on his leather jacket. “I’ll go through the back door,” he said,
turning to his second in command, Jackal, his voice sounding deeper than a
panther’s purr. “I need to talk to Pedro.”
Jackal let out a deep, guttural grunt. He was a tall, lanky
man with dark hair and a scruffy beard. His voice was rough and strained, the
result of a brutal bar fight that left his vocal cords permanently damaged. He
hated speaking, the sound of his own voice reminding him of the painful
incident. And he cringed at the thought of his friends jokingly telling others,
“You should’ve seen the other guy!” The guilt of knowing that he had caused
someone to lose his life in the fight weighed heavily on Jackal’s conscience.
Although not his fault, the drunk man attacked him, cutting his throat, and he
acted in defense, the man died, hitting his head on the pool table when Jackal
pushed him away. The memory still haunted him like a shadow that he could never
escape.
Stubby, the compact and sturdy member of the gang, let out a
deep exhalation. “I hope he has some good news for us,” he said, his voice
laced with tension. “It’s been two days since we heard the Hyenas had crossed
the border with a new shipment, and we still don’t know where their hiding
place is.”
Raven let out a heavy sigh as he approached the corner of
the building. Each step caused small pebbles to crunch under his sturdy boots.
As he peeked through the open back door, Raven spotted his
informant hunched over the sink. He motioned to him discreetly, and Pedro
nodded in response, quickly glancing around to ensure they were not being
watched. With cautious movements, Pedro made his way toward the door, holding
onto a large garbage bag.
Raven waited for him behind the garbage container. “Did you
find out?” he asked the fidgety man.
Growing up in the vibrant streets of Mexico, Pedro was all
too familiar with the dangerous activities of human trafficker gangs, called
hyenas. His cousin had been pressuring him to join their gang since he was just
a teenager, promising him a life of wealth and power. But when he met Maria,
she showed him that there was another way out - a chance to escape poverty and
break free from a life of crime. Together, they bravely crossed the treacherous
border and made their way to a small town in America where they found jobs and
rented an apartment in the bustling Latino community. Pedro kept his ears open
and listened closely as drunkards at the local bar spoke about the dark
dealings of the notorious gangs. He knew he had made the right choice by
following Maria, and now he was determined to make a better life for both of
them while helping others who didn’t see a way out.
“I heard that there is an abandoned house about five miles
from here deep in the woods,” Pedro whispered, his eyes darting nervously
toward the door. “I’m not sure if the gang is hiding there or not, but I know
that the guy who talked about the house is their connection on the US side. He
takes care of the sales. He was well liquored up on tequila and kept blubbering
about the house and that the family who lived there a hundred years ago were
killed.”
“It’s possible,” Raven mused, his voice low and gravelly. “Thanks
for the information, Pedro. You’re one step closer to joining us.” He raised
his fist for a bump, sealing their partnership with a resounding thud.
The stocky man’s face beaming with joy hurried back to the
kitchen.
Raven entered the bar through the front door and found his
gang at their usual table in the far corner. “We have a possible location.
Finish your drinks and let’s get going.” Raven informed his comrades.
The five members of the Panthers understood the gravity and
urgency of their mission - to rescue innocent teenagers and young children from
the clutches of ruthless human traffickers, who sought to sell them as
commodities for sexual exploitation.
With fierce determination in their eyes, they raced toward
the abandoned house on the outskirts of town, their roaring engines leaving a
trail of dust and adrenaline in their wake. Although people in town were used
to their presence, and they never heard anything bad about them, the fear that
something might happen always left them with unease when they heard the roaring
engines.
The scent of gasoline and leather lingered in the air,
adding to the intensity of their presence and the darkness seemed to part
before them as if even nature itself knew not to stand in their way. As they
reached the dirt road in the woods, Raven raised his hand in a commanding
gesture, signaling for his comrades to halt.
With practiced ease, they killed the engines, dismounted
their bikes, and hid them in the thick bushes.
“We go the last mile on foot,” Raven instructed his men. “No
guns, until we’re forced to use them,” he said.
“Fists and knives,” Stubby added, and the group murmured in
agreement.
They moved forward with silent, calculated steps. The air
was heavy with anticipation and danger, each member acutely aware of the risk
they were taking. As they crept closer, shadows seemed to dance around them,
adding to the sense of danger.
With firm determination in their eyes and weapons at the
ready, their hearts burned with righteous anger, knowing that they were the
only hope for these helpless souls. Since they were honorably discharged from
the armed forces six years ago, at first, they had a hard time adjusting to
civilian life. Later, Raven and Jackle opened a car repair shop, Doc became a
veterinarian. Pokerface, the always stoical looking yet highly emotional friend
opened a Dojo and taught self-defense.
The air was thick with tension and adrenaline as they
prepared to put an end to this heinous operation. They spotted a large van
parked in the clearing as they cautiously approached the rundown house. Its
black exterior blended with the night sky, but its chrome bumpers glistened in
the moonlight. Crouching low, they peered from behind the vehicle to see a
guard stationed by the door. His posture was tense as he held a sleek machine
gun at the ready. In the flickering light streaming from a nearby window, they
could hear faint sounds of children crying and men shouting from inside the
house. The hair on their necks prickled with a sense of danger and urgency as
they plotted their next move.
Jackal glanced at Raven, who gave a subtle nod of approval.
The lanky man dropped to his hands and knees, moving with the grace and
precision of a stalking animal. He slinked through the shadows, keeping his
body low and silent as he crept towards the unsuspecting guard.
When he was within a few feet of the man, Stubby made a
slight noise by tossing a small rock toward the corner of the house. The guard,
startled by the sound, turned his head in that direction. Taking advantage of
the distraction, Jackal sprang forward with lightning speed and wrapped his
arms around the guard’s neck in a chokehold. With his other large hand covering
the guard’s mouth and nose, he effectively silenced any potential screams for
help.
Without hesitation, the rest of the bikers sprang into
action. In a flurry of movement and precision, they made their way silently to
the door. Doc, whose occupation as a veterinarian had provided him with some
interesting skills, quickly punctured the guard’s neck with the needle attached
to a syringe filled with a powerful animal tranquilizer. As his body went limp,
Jackal eased him down against the wall while Stubby secured his wrists and
ankles with strong duct tape. The operation had gone flawlessly so far, but
they knew they still had to move quickly and quietly to ensure their actions
inside just as smoothly.
Guns at the ready, their eyes flicked to Raven for a signal.
With a swift kick, he sent the door crashing off its hinges and tumbling into
the vast room with a resounding thud. The six men, dressed in sleek black
leather outfits, poured into the space like an unstoppable force. Inside, three
burly men stood guard over a group of frightened children, their hands reaching
for their weapons but halted by Raven’s firm voice. “Game over, boys. Hands up!”
The tension in the air was palpable as the two groups faced off, guns pointed
and hearts racing.
With a fierce cry, one of the men launched himself at Raven,
only to be met with the hard metal of his gun hitting the man between his
brows. The heavily tattooed man crumpled to the floor, dazed and defeated.
Stubby wasted no time in springing into action, deftly pulling out the roll of
duct tape from his pocket. The other two men looked on, wide-eyed and fear
evident in their rapid Spanish chatter. Raven calmly gestured towards them, and
his men moved quickly to hold them down while Stubby skillfully bound their
hands and feet with the tape, rendering them immobile and powerless. Every move
was executed with precision and efficiency, a testament to their years of
training.
Pokerface towered over the two bandits, listening to their
pleas for mercy in rapid Spanish. They were sweating and shaking, their eyes
wide with terror as they begged for their freedom. But Pokerface only chuckled,
causing the men to stop and stare at him in confusion. “No, boys,” he said
firmly, his voice laced with amusement. “The town’s sheriff won’t be giving you
a free pass. In fact, he will never see you.” The men’s faces fell in despair
as they realized their fate. “Yes, you’re going back home,” Pokerface declared
with his usual stoic face and neutral voice.
The bandits’ pleas became more frantic, but the gang paid
them no mind. “I know,” Doc had enough and said calmly. “The prisons back there
are hardly five-star hotels. And who knows if you’ll even make it there alive.”
He shrugged nonchalantly as if their potential death sentence meant nothing to
him. “But hey, you knew the risks when you took up a life of crime. We have no
sympathy for you.”
As the bandits continued to plead and beg, Doc’s attention
shifted to Raven who had approached a group of children. Despite the tense
situation at hand, his face was gentle as he spoke to the young ones, offering
them comfort and safety in the chaos surrounding them.
The eight young children, boys and girls, from ages three to
nine huddled together in the corner of the dimly lit room. Their eyes were wide
with fear as they watched the strange, scary-looking men in front of them
wearing leather outfits with black panthers painted on the back of their
jackets. The sound of their heavy footsteps echoed off walls, causing the
children to shrink further into the corner. Raven crouched down before them
with a reassuring smile on his face. As he spoke calmly in Spanish, the children’s
faces softened, and they began to relax. Trust slowly crept into their eyes as
Raven promised to get them home safely.
With a sense of determination, Raven stood up and dialed his
contact in Mexico. “We have four hyenas and eight young children,” he spoke
rapidly in Spanish. After receiving instructions from his contact, Raven turned
to the children and smiled again. “You’re going home,” he assured them. Despite
their fear and confusion, the children couldn’t help but feel hopeful as they
followed Raven out of the dark room and toward safety.
***
A decade had passed since Pedro joined them and the Panthers
gathered around their usual table in their favorite bar. Time had etched deep
wrinkles around their eyes and peppered their hair with streaks of grey, but
their spirits were still as strong as ever. They sat together, discussing their
latest, successful mission, when Raven let out a heavy sigh. “It’s never going
to end,” he said wearily. “We take one gang out, and in no time, another one
pops up to take their place.”
The others nodded sadly in agreement, lost in their own
thoughts, when a young man and woman approached their table. The man had a wide
smile on his round face and held tightly onto the woman’s hand. “My name is
Juan, and this is my wife, Alejandra,” he introduced himself with genuine
warmth.
Raven gestured for them to have a seat at their table. As
they sat down, Juan continued speaking. “You may not remember us, but we will
never forget you,” he said, tears glistening in his eyes. “Ten years ago, you
rescued us not far from here. Thanks to your help, we were reunited with our
families in Mexico.” His voice shook with emotion as he spoke.
The bikers looked at each other questioningly, unsure of who
these strangers were until Juan explained further. “We were just kids when you
saved us,” he said, looking at each of the weathered faces before him. “Because
of you, we have grown up in our families.” He paused for a moment before
adding, “Because of you, instead of being a sex slave of the rich, I’m going to
start medical school in the fall with my fiancée. Thank you for all that you do!”
As they listened to Juan’s words and saw the gratitude
shining in his eyes, Raven and his men shared a silent exchange that conveyed
without words: it was worth it. All of the struggles and sacrifices they faced
as members of the Panthers gang were worth it to see the positive impact, they
had on the children’s lives they saved.
Raven sighed and with a smile on his face reached across the
table and held Juan’s hand. “Just don’t tell anyone about this, son. We can
only do this if we stay in the background.”
People in town viewed them as bored middle-aged men having
fun riding their Harleys and getting drunk in the bar. If only they knew what
they did and were not expecting any reward or recognition, these unsung heroes
would be celebrated by many.
Read more
Intriguing,
bone-chilling, heartwarming, and thought-provoking short stories by various
genre authors in the What If? #3 Anthology.
https://books2read.com/u/m27NQd 
