How a Resurrection Really Feels

1

The uncomfortably hot late summer wind keeps blowing dust into Spencer's eyes, and Spencer puts his bike on full throttle, determined to pass Ryan on the empty country road. He can't believe that this is where they've ended up, but he tries not to dwell on it. He simply focuses on passing Ryan's bike. If he's driving first, the desire to shove Ryan off the road won't be as strong.

Besides, it's not like Spencer doesn't have other things to think about, like why Fifty-Two Walker is driving a few feet behind them. He still doesn't know if it's a good thing or not, but he has to organize their priorities, and right now they are to keep running away, find something to eat and a place to stay. In the meanwhile, he lets himself think that Jon being with them is a good thing.

The road gets worse the further they get from any proper civilization, and Spencer is tired and hungry, his eyes having given up trying to spot any signs of life in these parts. But just then he finally sees a building looming in the distance, and he instinctively lifts his left arm to signal Ryan and Jon that there's something coming up ahead.

Spencer assumes that Ryan and Jon are as tired and hungry as he is since they all speed towards the building. As they finally get closer, Spencer notices it's a gas station. Finally luck is on their side. He has been eyeing the fuel meter of his dashboard worriedly for the past hundred miles. Their three motorcycles roar from the road and stop outside the pathetic little establishment that has a cardboard sign out front with wobbly letters spelling 'GAS'.

Spencer rolls his shoulders as he gets off his bike, feeling the stiffness of his limbs.

"I'll take a look inside," Jon says flatly, taking the shotgun that has been hanging on his back the entire journey. "Fill up my tank." Jon throws the keys, and Spencer catches them from the air, surprised at being allowed to put a hand on Jon's motorbike.

Jon marches to the door with determined steps, and Ryan, who is only now getting off his bike, quirks a quizzical eyebrow at Spencer. "What?" Spencer asks, irritated as he begins filling up his tank.

Ryan stands up straight, stretches slightly and readjusts his leather jacket. "I'm telling you, man, this is not good. Fifty-Two Walker coming with us? I've got a bad feeling about this. Patrick's sent him to finish us."

"Well," Spencer says slowly, not wanting to admit that Ryan most likely has a point. He hears gunshots and screaming from inside the gas station. Ryan is keeping an eye on the door, hand inside his jacket where Spencer knows Ryan has his handgun ready. "Jon's not killed us yet. And if he plans on doing that, why drive out all this way with us?"

"Because he'll tell them where we are so they can find us?"

"And how will he do that?" he retorts, exasperated. "Drive back the whole way?" He tries not to roll his eyes. "Just keep your eyes on the fucking door."

Right on cue, the gas station door flies open and three enormous men run outside with terrified looks on their faces. They spot the two of them, one of them shrieking, "Please, don't kill us! For the love of God, don't kill us!"

Spencer stares at the men twice his size, completely unimpressed. The three men keep running for their lives, heading down the road where they just came from. Their feet lift dust off the ground, their horrified shrieks filling the air.

Spencer shrugs and turns back to Ryan. "Just don't bother Jon, alright? We'll both be a lot safer if you leave the guy be."

Ryan gives him an offended look and shakes his head. "All my fault, it's always all my fault," he grumbles, and Spencer moves to refill Jon's tank so that he doesn't snap at Ryan or, more preferably, punch him. "I just don't trust him," Ryan persists.

"You shouldn't," Spencer says simply, taking a look at the distancing backs of the men desperately escaping from them.

"My point exactly!"

Spencer raises an eyebrow. "Then go inside and shoot him. I'm sure you'll do great."

"Why are you being such a bitch? I'm tellin–"

"We are in the middle of fucking nowhere, running away again, all thanks to you, and you ask me why I'm being such a bitch? Jon being here is the only good thing that is happening to us right now, so fuck off."

Ryan seems speechless for once. Good.

Spencer finishes refueling Jon's bike and moves onto Ryan's just as the sounds of havoc from inside the gas station begin to fade. The fuckers never stood a chance.

"Look, Jon is a cold blooded –" Ryan begins, but just then Jon waltzes back outside, and Ryan understands enough to shut the hell up.

"All clear," Jon says simply, expression perfectly blank. Spencer takes one look at Jon's face, feeling his own blood cool down. He sneaks a glance at Ryan.

Ryan is staring at Jon with a mix of horror and fascination. "You, um. You've got a bit of blood right here?" Ryan asks uncertainly, pointing at his left cheek.

Jon stares at him. "And?"

Ryan's mouth drops open slightly. "Uh. Nothing. Never mind."

Spencer is convinced Jon is going to aim his shotgun at Ryan now, but nothing happens. Spencer's hands shake slightly. From exhaustion, of course. He is just tired. He finishes filling Ryan's tank and takes a deep breath. "Okay, well. Let's see what's inside," he suggests.

When Spencer steps inside the gas station, he sees the hell that Jon brought down to earth. Two bodies lie in the midst of blood puddles and broken tables and chairs. A card game must have been going on since cards lie everywhere on the floor. The bodies combined with the men who ran away bring the total to five. Jon handled five guys on his own; something he and Ryan combined might not manage. Fuck, they are lucky to have Jon with them.

Spencer has seen dead bodies before, so he ignores them and focuses on what he wants: food and drink.

Easy enough.

But after searching the whole place, Spencer shouts, "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!" He slams his hands on the counter. They've found nothing but a bunch of canned apricots that expired five years ago, a few bottles of water and one small bag of fresh Brussels sprouts.

Surrendering to his miserable and clearly famished fate, Spencer throws the vegetables into his sailor bag, hearing Ryan cursing in a not-so-quiet voice at their lack of food as he says that he'll be outside with the bikes. When Spencer finishes tying up his bag, he takes a deep breath and notices a half-eaten chocolate bar on the counter, wrapped up in shiny golden paper, stained with some blood. It wasn't there a second ago.

Spencer lifts his gaze, meeting Jon's briefly. "Was inside his pocket," Jon says, pointing at the other dead guy lying on the floor. "Don't tell Ryan."

Jon walks out, leaving Spencer dumbfounded. He takes the chocolate bar, reading Golden Eagle and smiling to himself. His favorite. He definitely won't share this with Ryan.

When Spencer gets outside, he spots Ryan and Jon filling empty canisters with gas, and once they have attached the full canisters to their bikes, Jon gets back on his, switches the engine on, and the bike roars. "Follow me," he orders.

Ryan looks at Spencer with eyes that scream 'I told you so', but Spencer just shrugs and tries to act casual.

Jon takes the lead this time, and Spencer follows him, not sure where they are going or what they are going into. The sun is setting in the horizon, and well, if Jon is taking them to slaughter, at least Spencer doesn't have to sleep outside tonight.

Spencer keeps his eyes on Jon's back, trying to come up with a way out but realizing there aren't any. If Jon is planning to kill them, there's nothing he can do about it. He won't even try shooting Jon in the back as they are driving because if he fails, his death will be painful beyond words. Jon usually doesn't go around torturing people before killing them, and Spencer would prefer not to force Jon to make an exception.

Spencer remembers he still has the chocolate bar in his pocket. He gets it now. He didn't know that Jon likes to play mind tricks on people, but the chocolate is there anyway, as a form of last supper, so Spencer quickly takes it out of his pocket and, with one hand, he pops it into his mouth.

It's fucking delicious. It does work as a last supper.

He's had a decent life, he thinks. Sure, he is about to die because his best friend is an idiot, and there's nothing decent about that, but Spencer's had it good, being the oppressor and not the oppressed. And these last moments of his life are not too bad, either: just him, his bike and the open road. This is where he has been his happiest.

Unexpectedly, however, Jon turns left, leading them off the road. Spencer breathes in hard and follows, and Ryan drives to his side and glances at him again. Their gazes meet for a few worried seconds, but Spencer looks away. He'll act brave until the very end. He's a tough guy; he won't cry or beg for mercy. Guns are pretty clean-cut when it comes down to it.

After a ten minute ride down the new road, which clearly hasn't been used in living memory, Spencer spots a house in the distance, very different from the shabby gas station.

How did Jon know to drive them here in the first place? Has Jon really planned this with Patrick? After all, Spencer led them at first. Maybe Spencer has been leading himself to his own death all this time without knowing it.

They come to a stop outside a two-story stone house. It looks spacious, larger than the usual farm houses they passed when they first began making their way into the countryside. It's obvious no one has lived here or taken care of the place in a long time: paint is peeling off the window frames, and patches of overgrown, dead grass have overtaken the path leading up to the steps of the house.

"We'll stay here," Jon announces, turning the engine off.

Spencer blinks. "Sorry?"

Isn't Jon supposed to kill them now? But Jon doesn't repeat his words, just carries the fuel canisters to the house without paying attention to them.

"This is a trap," Ryan mutters warily as they approach the house with their own belongings. The front steps creak under their weight, and they hesitate before going through the main door that Jon left open.

It's dusty inside and hard to see as the sun has nearly set. They are in a foyer with a wooden staircase to the upper floor, and Spencer hears Jon moving in the room to their right, the door slightly ajar. Cautiously, he follows the sound. Random pieces of forgotten furniture zigzag the large room. Jon has shrugged off his leather jacket, the white t-shirt beneath wet in the back from sweat marks and spoiled by a few blood stains on the front. Jon sits down on the only couch, possibly claiming it as his own for the night.

Jon can have any couch or bed they might find. If he's not killing them tonight, he can have anything.

"How did you know this house was here?" Spencer asks skeptically. Ryan is now walking around the room, frowning in disdain.

"Back at the gas station. Asked the second guy I shot."

"Right," Spencer nods. Well, it's a roof over their heads. The house isn't that bad, it just needs some attention and fixing here and there if they plan to stay there for a while. Spencer puts his bag down on a chair, which topples over from the weight as a leg gives in. Spencer sighs heavily. "And the local people? They won't find us?"

Jon shakes his head, eyes drooping closed. "No one comes here. Think the place is haunted."

Ryan swirls around from examining the fireplace. "Haunted?" he asks, and even Spencer is unimpressed by Ryan's alarmed tone. They're not stupid peasants or insignificant slaves. They're bikers. They're tough. They are in one of the most influential gangs that –

Correction. They were in one of the most influential gangs.

"Ghosts aren't real," Spencer tells Ryan, who still looks unhappy.

"Are there any other houses around?" Ryan asks hopefully, which is an idiotic question because Spencer certainly saw nothing during the last twenty miles. Jon might already be asleep, Spencer's not sure. Jon's got his eyes closed and he is breathing steadily.

"Let's make dinner," Spencer suggests.

Dinner is a handful of Brussels sprouts each. Ryan complains that everything is too primitive, even their water comes from a well, but at least the well works and the water is clean. It took them forever to find a pot and get a fire going in the kitchen full of cobwebs, but they managed it even if Ryan burned his fingers. They now sit in the large living room, Jon on the couch, Ryan on a chair and Spencer on the floor, munching their scarcely nutritious dinner. It's cold now, and all they have as a means of lighting is half a candlestick that Ryan found in an upstairs bedroom. There are many bedrooms up there, all with beds, and Spencer is happy he doesn't have to sleep on the floor.

"I fucking hate Brussels sprouts!" Ryan spits half-way through a deadly silent dinner. "They're all green and – and round! And they taste foul! Fuck! This sucks, this entire thing sucks! I hate this house and this food and –"

"If you're not happy," Jon says slowly, voice threatening, "then leave."

Ryan blinks and shuts up.

Spencer smiles since he was about to yell at Ryan, which probably would have led to an endless argument with no productive results. Ryan never learns his lesson, but Jon's threat instantly had the desired effect on him.

Out of the three of them, Jon was the last one to join The Snakes of Hell some months back. Neither Spencer nor Ryan ever talked to Jon. No one in the gang did out of respect and also because they all felt intimidated by him. Jon is not a man of many words. In fact, the first time Jon spoke to them – actually it was to Spencer – was before running away, when Jon intercepted their secret sneaking out and told him, "I'll go with you. You might need help."

Spencer was so careful planning their disappearance that he still doesn't know how Jon found out, and the truth is that Spencer was scared shitless when Jon just appeared in front of them. The first thing that crossed his mind was that Jon was going to shoot them for trying to escape. Needless to say that when it turned out Jon wasn't going to shoot them, he didn't object to Jon inviting himself along.

When the horrible dinner comes to an end, they move upstairs where the bedrooms are, with the help of old oil lanterns they found in the kitchen. Another thing Spencer will have to get used to is living with no electricity. Electricity is a luxury, you don't find it easily, not even in a city, unless you are surrounded by the right people.

Right now, the right people are hundreds of miles away and, if they are lucky, they'll remain that way.

The three of them take separate ways in the hallway, not wasting time to check inside the rooms in order to pick a good one, figuring that they are all equally dirty. Spencer closes the door, walking slowly and tiredly towards the bed, placing the lantern on his nightstand. He takes his boots off and throws himself back against the old mattress that lacks sheets and blankets. Tomorrow, with better light, they'll look for more usable goods. Wasting precious oil is a luxury they can't afford right now.

Spencer is physically and mentally so exhausted that he hurries to turn the lantern off before finally passing out. Tomorrow, they'll hopefully figure out the rest.