Death of a King

Chapter 31

"How's he doing?" Doc rested his hand over Dustin's forehead, checking for a fever. If a fever was present that would indicate the stab wound had become infected. I waited until Doc withdrew his hand, assuring that there was no fever, before I was able to conjure an answer.

"He's okay. He's been sleeping a lot." I said through a whisper.

Doc nodded, leaning around Dustin's body to check the cut at the center of Dustin's stomach. It was ghastly, showing exposed skin deep under the surface while the flesh surrounding the cut was purple and black from bruising. Farther out the bruises faded to dull colors of maroon, stretching along his torso like cracks across the desert.

"It's probably better that he's sleeping. We're dangerously low on pain medication, especially with how many people are injured at the moment." Doc changed out the bloody gauze on Dustin's stomach with a fresh, clean one before he rubbed at his eyes below his glasses, "I've been talking to a few of my contacts around the area but it's hard accumulating the amount of medication we need to satisfy everyone without raising additional questions from the police. The last thing we need is an authorized investigation."

Lumiere has taken on the role of acting commander, relaying Dustin's orders to the remaining members, but Doc's role has been nearly five times harder. He's scurrying around the compound, tending to as many people as he can but he's just a man. A human like us all, and it was hard for him to take care of an entire gang when so many needed an unbelievable amount of medical attention.

I pitied him and I hated that I couldn't help him, "You're doing all that you can. In the end, that's all that matters."

Doc sighed, looking down at Dustin with such remorse, "I wish that were true, ma'am."

He trudged away, calling out to keep Dustin well hydrated. Then he passed through the door and dissolved into room on the other side of the door.

It's been three days since the attack and the Tribe was worse off than how it began. I've yet to leave Dustin's side save for going to the bathroom and checking on Corinth, who was completely beside herself with grief from losing her father. She's told me that though he was no award winning father, she loved him. I could relate. I hate my father but I'd never want to see him burned alive as Donovan was.

Most of the severely wounded members were taken to the nearby hospital with the cover story that a motorcycle caught fire while being repaired and exploded amongst several nearby gas canisters. The same bullshit was relayed to the police who came snooping around after reports from nearby housing units came flooding in. But they didn't have a warrant so they weren't allowed on the premises but as Doc said, all they needed was probably cause to attain one.

Nonetheless, they didn't need to take a single step past the fence to tell that the compound was in ruins. Donovan's office was gone, a mere pile of ash and charcoaled wooden beams. No indications remained that a building once stood there. It's been said that the first explosion targeted the office.

The garage wasn't as bad, two walls still stood though not much else survived the fire. The storage buildings in the back were burned down, most of the motorcycles along the fence had been destroyed in one way or another, and the front gate was irreparable. What once had been a display of Tribe pride and strength was now nothing more than a smokey reminder of what we lost.

Before the police arrived, the countless bodies were collected and taken to the back of the surrounding cemetery where they each were given individual graves if possible. If a body was unidentifiable, they were given a blank slate with the Tribe sigil carved into the polish rock and a date to remember their death by.