A few glanced over their shoulder. Allleft as soon as possible, leaving that place with only a few oddlywilted flowers to show that they had ever been...Everyone could, on some level deeper than sane, waking thought, feelsomething that they could not name.Death is a greater trauma even than we suspect.We are like the butterfly which emerges from the cocoon only to beinstantly captured by a spider web.The inexplicable, noumenous forces that comprise the mind can, in fact,as many believe, survive. I walked up to a cute blonde, "What happened?" she looked at me with tear-filled eyes. "A Washington Patch holder was shot to death, we think it's the Hell Riders." she replied. "Ok if you need anything I'm here." and I slipped her my number. The patch holders came about after about 20 minutes. They rounded up us prospects and had us do a grocery run, one of the guys from Washington was put in charge of the list and getting us there. I mounted my bike and formed up on him, with Gas and Goblin. More

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