Wolf of War

There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. The thundering sound of the motorcycles is all one could hear. As they rode into town the valley walls roared along their procession. No other club has ever dared to enter the valley or to ride through in such numbers. This means one thing; The Dragons MC has declared war.

Riding down main street the Dragons MC revving their engines making sure they are noticed by the town’s folk, a group of six bikes broke away from the rest and headed towards the motel called the Lycan Inn. Getting off their bikes they strode in towards the main desk. One of them spoke towards the group and barked out, “Let them keep making a show out there for a while. Also, once we get the rooms make sure the party favors are placed inside.” Another member nodded and headed outside to keep an eye on the members.

The woman at the desk was on the phone, the remaining five members that were still inside didn’t catch what she said on the phone before they got to the desk. The one that barked out the orders was clearly the leader since the flash on his cut read President. He spoke in a deep voice, “Hello darling it appears that we need rooms for a few days for my thunder.” The woman asked, “For how many and how long?” Replying “For about twenty-five folks and for how long? Well, that we may have to see.” Letting out a sly chuckle. Smell of ozone seem to waft into the air.

The chill from the overworked swamp cooler swept through the clubhouse. Keeping the hot summer air at bay as much as possible. The phone began ringing on the wall next to the bar. The brothers in the room were quiet as could be. Looking towards the direction of town. Listening to the echoes of what was happening in the valley.

Waking with a start from the loud noises and with a pounding headache. Owen places his hand over his eyes and begins to rub the sleep from them. He stands up from bed and walks to the bar room. The shuffle of his feet and the creaking floorboards startled one brother Stew from his quiet trance. Before brother Stew could speak and acknowledge the Sarge, Owen picks up the phone.

Voice so hush as if trying not to be overheard spoke, “It’s them and this time they have back up.” Owen recognizing the voice of the town’s only motel owner. He replies, “Thanks for the heads up, Siobhan but we kind of figured from the sounds of the bikes echoing all the way out here.” Hanging up the phone and looking at it, wishing he could’ve said don’t do anything foolish.

Owen looks over at the brothers that are in the room. Most of them finally looking away from the direction of town and glancing over at him, waiting for him to speak. Taking a breath Owen speaks with a smirk on his face, “Well boys this is going to be a fun summer and we all know Pres isn’t going to like it.”

“Right, what did Pres say before he left? oh right No fighting.” Says Charlie the brother closest to the window. That got a few chuckles out from the brothers. “I’ll give the Pres a call and let’s gather up for church. Since I’m certain one is going to be held.” Owen speaking to his brothers and finally giving them the nod letting them know those are the marching orders.

Then brother Stew speaks out to Owen, “Alrighty then but quick question though Sarge. The dress code, is it all natural today?” The whole room erupted in laughter. This question only reminded Owen of his throbbing headache and last night’s shenanigans of partying. Replying back, “Well Stew that’s a good question and that reminds me. I left your mother in the other room.” Drawing out more laughter from the brothers. The camaraderie of the room inside the Hells Howlers MC clubhouse lifts that somber atmosphere of the war to come. Owen steps outside the clubhouse and takes in a deep breath and lets out a mighty howl.