The Biker Gang

Unsung Heroes

A short story by Erika M Szabo in the
​What if? #3 Anthology

What if you think the known world isn’t strange enough? Embark on a journey that pushes the boundaries, challenges your perception, and questions reason, logic, and established beliefs.
​

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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.