The Ryder

Chapter 3- Kid

I ride about ten minutes down 104 and just like Tank had said, a Harley Sportster was indeed laying in a ditch. Tank and a prospect had both of their bikes lights on the ditched bike for a better view.

I park my bike and walk over to the scene. I notice the bike had been dragged, rocks and gravel trailed in the ditches direction. As I get closer, I see the key is gone as well.

"So, what do you think? It's not one of ours. It's a weird place to leave a nice looking bike like this." Tank says.

I know this area like the back of my hand. I grew up here. Ive rode my bikes up and down this rode since before they even had a motor. It was a main route to the town our club sat on the outskirts of.

"You guys check in there?" I point to the shack. Hoping they had thought about that.

The prospect just rubbed the back of his neck as Tank spoke up. " We hadn't gotten that far. We called you as soon as we saw the bike."

I run a hand down my face. It would have taken two seconds. The building only had half a roof and 3 walls standing. Jeesh.

I shake my head and walk into the dew-covered grass towards the decayed building. Vines and bushes have invaded the whole space but that's how I noticed there was someone around.

A big bush branch leading into the shack was snapped and moved aside. I set my hand on my pistol that I always had on my hip, ready to pull it out.

I hit the side of the building with my foot, waiting for movement but there wasn't any. "I know someone in there. Just come out." I reason but still nothing.

I glance back at my guys and they just shrug.

"We haven't heard anything coming from in there and we've been here for like what?... twenty minutes?" The prospect speaks up now.

I pull my phone out of my pocket and switch on the flashlight. If that bike went down, whoever it belongs to could be hurt. Laying down a motorcycle is no joke.

As I walk into the space I have to crouch down a little to fit. I shine my light around the room in a full circle to find decayed furniture, cobwebs, dust, dirt ,and whatever else you'd expect. I turned to leave and my light caught a reflection of itself in something, figuring it'd be a mirror or glass bottle. To my surprise when I did a quick turn back to see, it was a person curled up in the corner of the shack.

Black jeans, black combat boots, black jacket, and A black full faced helmets all curled into a tiny ball in the corner under some debris. I cautiously walked over to the person, hand on my gun. I kicked the boot with mine and nothing. The person didn't budget, grunt, or anything.

"Hey!" I said a little loud to try to wake him. No use though

I stick my head out of the shack "Hey there's someone in here. Call Jinx to grab the truck. This guy's knocked out cold."

I turn back to the knocked-out figure as soon as Tank grabs his phone to make the call.

I move all of the debris out of the way and I can see how tiny this guy really was. Damn now I can see why he rode a Sportster. Better size for him than a Dyna or Road King.

I could see that he was alive and breathing but from this angle, I could also see blood coming from his shoulder and a little dart end sticking out of it. I've seen these before but at that moment, I couldn't place where exactly.

I grabbed the guy by the arm and leg and threw him over my shoulder. He was heavier than expected with all the riding gear he wore. I walked out of the shack and set him down on the ground well I retrieved the bag he laid on.

"Where do you think he came from?" the prospect ask Tank.

"Not sure, we'll run the plates when we get back." Tank answers.

"His cut says Ryder." I told them as I came back over.

Both of their heads snap over to the cut, right over his heart is his name badge, which says 'Ryder' right there. The cut had different patches all over it. None of them saying where or who but just images and sayings. No MC claims.

I set the bag down and start going through it. Normal stuff, jeans, some shirts. Toothbrush, normal overnight things. Wallet with only cash in it. Nothing too crazy.

"When we get back to the clubhouse, check the bike. Check the saddle bags, check for trackers, and see what it'll take to fix." I inform my guys justas Jinx pulls up with the pickup truck.

"s**t, didn't see this coming tonight. Who laid it down?" Jinx asks oblivious about the unconscious rider by my legs.

"This guy." I say as I grab Ryder under the arms and pull him to the truck. His legs dragged along the way. I open the door and toss him inside. He won't feel it, he's unconscious anyways.

"So we bringing in strays now?" Jinx asks as the guys get the bike up and moved to the truck ramps.

"We've always accepted strays," I tell Jinx. "We're all strays man."

The prospect just glances down at that comment and then picks it back up in a blink. I noticed the change, I don't think Tank or Jinx did though.

"Stop talking so much Jinx, let's get this bike loaded. I want a damn beer." Tank scuffed as they rolled the bike up and into the truck bed.

I glanced at the person in the back of the truck. What was he doing out here at this hour of the night? Who shot him and who the f**k is he?