Azalea's Arising

The sun was just breaking through the early dusk sky, cascading hues of blues and blacks were soon being washed away by the ever-reaching warm pigments of the awakening sky. I squinted at the increasing brightness as my arm came up attempting to block the harshness of the dawn. My joints creaked as I tried to gain my bearings, pain radiating through my dust-covered body. My head and body movements felt heavy as I managed to sit up despite the throbbing of my skull. “Where am I?” I held my head in my hand, physically attempting to shake my consciousness awake. I ran my fingers through my short dark hair, causing more orange silt to be sifted to the ground. Struggling to gain some understanding of my current situation and how I had reached this current state, I felt the sting of my knuckles seaming to split from the movement. As I withdrew my hands in front of me, I saw the dark red ooze of blood trickle from the scabs that were thickly formed with dirt around each knuckle on my hand. I became exceedingly aware of the heat starting to radiate down on my body now that every trace of the cool dawn was chased away by the blazing heat of the day. I raised my head to scan the horizon in front of me, seeing the vast emptiness of the flat land dessert ahead of me, only broken apart by the occasional cactus. As I stood disheveling even more silt from the leather cut and black jeans I wore, a sound broke the still of the landscape. I turned my head in the direction of the disturbance to see two offroad vehicles speeding towards me, heat waves rolling off the image in front of me, causing a mirage like blur. “WAIT!” All at once I forgot about the aches and pains of my limbs and started flagging down the vehicles, the need for survival taking over all other instincts. As the vehicles came to a stop in front of me resulting in a thick fog of dust showering over the small group. A form appeared in front of my eyes as I waved the dust away from my face. “Do you know what kind of hell you’ve caused all of us, Dustin?!” Came the rough, familiar voice of my best friend Blake. "Blake?” I winced as my voice cracked from lack of moisture. Relief flooded through my body as I knew I was once again in the presence of one of my longest known friends. “What is going on?” “We’re here to deliver your’ ass over to The Red Devils for retribution!” Blakes' voice came out angrily, but his familiar dark green eyes seemed to hold a storm of turmoil brewing behind them. We’ve been friends since early childhood. Playing on the same streets, causing mayhem together, and even fighting side by side. There wasn’t a moment in my life I could remember without Blake on my side against the world, no matter the odds. Hearing him proclaim this act of treason with such authority felt wrong. I was by his side as we executed our own club’s sick sense of justice to others. I had been proud in those moments, feeling like a soldier amid the victory of a hard-fought battle, looking towards Blake with a sense of pride as a respected leader. However, in this moment, seeing the turmoil in my friends’ eyes, even as he tried to remain resolute for the other members of the club behind him, I knew I was alone. “I’m the enemy,” I thought in dismay. Blake was ordered to do this, so just like the loyal dog he was, he would follow the command of their leader, Brett Severith, regardless of his personal feelings. I was confident in my friend and knew that if he truly intended to hand me over to the enemy there would be substantial consequences for disobedience otherwise. My own grey eyes met my friends with a knowing smirk. We shared a silent acknowledgement of the duty we both held to. “All for the club,” I thought dismally, as a dark chuckle escaped me. Whatever I did this time, my status in the club wasn’t enough to save my skin. Not this time. However, I steeled my nerves I’d face my end with dignity. I nodded to my friend in unspoken understanding. Two more members of the Death Riders appeared beside Blake, storming my way. I felt their hands try to pull my cut off as anger flooded through my body. I might be on my way out of this world, but damned if I’d let someone take the patch I was willingly dying for. Just as my fist c****d back and grabbed the shirt of one of the assailants, Blake quickly rushed forward, tugging the man out of my grasp. His authoritative voice vibrating through the air was enough to stop my struggle. “Brett said to hand him over for the good of the club. As I see it, he’s willing to go to his end to save the club from an all-out war. Let him ride into the next life with his cut on his back. His f**k up, his sacrifice. Honor it!” Blake shoved the kid I was holding on to towards the van. I watched in angry satisfaction as the boy stumbled towards the car. It might be cruel, but I was always one to get a sick satisfaction seeing fresh meat being put in their place. After all it was standard in the club for all prospects to know their place and earn their positions. Before I could really revel in the victory of keeping my cut, a ripping sound had my head snapping back in front of me. As I turned my attention back to Blake, I saw the knife in his hand and my enforcer patch hit the red clay under my feet. A look of regret and humiliation moved through Blake's eyes. My resolution hardened as the patch laid in the dust symbolizing my disownment from the club. “Let’s get this over with,” I whispered. Anger was seeping through my voice as I avoided looking at any of the other members around us and proceeded to get into one of the black vehicles. They sped off towards the direction they came as I held my head, not caring to look out the window or make conversation. I turned inwardly scolding myself, racking my brain for clues of events that led to my dumping in the desert. As the orange cloud of dust billowed behind the vehicles, I tried to make peace with my maker, knowing the worst was yet to come. They were handing me over to our club's worst enemy, The Red Devils. Our gang’s mutual hatred for each other went back decades. No one really remembered the source that started it all, but it was common knowledge that whenever The Red Devils and the Death Riders crossed paths, lives were lost, blood was shed, scores were settled. I just happened to be the score that needed settling this time. I took a deep breath and sharp pains returned in my side as the adrenaline was leaving my body. I knew this pain would be nothing in comparison to the torment awaiting me in the devil's den. I closed my eyes and pressed my head against the cool glass of the window. “God, if you're up there, if you're listening…. Just know I’m sorry. For whatever this is that I did I know it must be serious. I don’t deserve forgiveness and I ain’t asking for it. I spilt too much blood to ever be innocent. Just tell mama I’m sorry, I only ever tried to do what she asked of me. Please take care of Laney.” I sent up a silent, desperate prayer thinking of my little sister and how much regret I had that I wouldn’t be there to protect her any longer. Desperation filled my heart as I thought of my mom, and all her hopes she had for my future. Angry tears threatened to spill from my eyes. I hastily readjusted myself in my seat, shoving a hand through my hair. I attempted to calm my racing thoughts. My eyes flicked up, catching Blakes in the rear-view mirror. We shared a knowing look of remorse. I couldn’t take looking at my friend as my executioner any longer. I averted my gaze out the window. Letting the same flat orange landscape take my mind with it as it blurred with the speed of the car. Nothing was ever going to be the same again.