Riders on the Storm

Chapter 3

William Jones' Point of View

I sat at the bar that was connected to the motel with Elijah and John. Michael and Logan were stationed at tables in the seating areas. The rest of the guys were outside, surrounding the area. The nazis were said to go into bars all over American and seduce anyone they could and bring them back to their room to use some sort of brain wash on them, or persuade them to come. Odds were a lot of the nazis didn't want to be a part of the group but were being held against their will.

"How can we tell their nazis?" John asked.

"The tattoos," Elijah replied.

"That's too obvious," I said, "they'll cover them up. They just wanted us to see the tattoos the last time to scare us...boy did we show them. Just look for people with blue eyes and blond hair, be very skeptical."

"Susan has blonde hair and blue eyes," John said in a panicked voice.

"That doesn't make her a freaking nazi," I said, "I said just be skeptical of anyone who has it."

"Her hair is dirty blonde," Elijah said annoyed.

"Why does it matter?" I asked. "How about we focus on the mission."

"Shouldn't we just be skeptical of everyone in this room?" Elijah asked.

"I don't know," John said looking Elijah up and down, suddenly becoming skeptical of Elijah, "maybe we should."

"Do I look like a freaking white supremacist to you?" Elijah asked.

Just a reminder, Elijah was black.

"Guys," I said, "focus. If we screw just one time everything could be blown out of proportion."

Suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a man sit down next to me. I looked at him without turning my head or drawing any attention to myself. The bartender handed the man a drink and the man took a sip. The man had blond hair and bright blue eyes. I looked over at John and Elijah, who had also taken notice of him. I turned my head slowly around and made eye contact with Michael and Logan. I flicked my nose, subtly pointing at the man. They both nodded slowly. I turned to face the man.

"What's that you got to drink there," I said pointing at the glass, "it looks good."

"Just scotch," the man replied with a shrug.

"Ah," I said with a nod, "too bad...I'm uh, allergic."

The man gave me a strange look but then went back to his drink. 

"What was that supposed to do?" John whispered.

"Shut up," I whispered back viciously. 

The man got up and left the bar.

"We're never going to get anywhere with this," Elijah whispered, placing his head in his hands.