A shrill ring startles me awake, my heart slams into my ribcage. I jerk up and blink my eyes hard. Frantically glancing around the room, expecting to be met with my tormentors. It takes a moment before my mind registers an obnoxious sound as my new ringtone. That needs to change. I shiver at the basic bell chime sound, aggravated with myself and night terrors. I reach out for the bright device as it vibrates across my smooth nightstand. This ringtone will drive me mad.
The random number that flashes across the screen; the numbers roll through my memory before coming up with nothing. Spam call? Probably not, I want to growl as I lay back down on the bed. I push away the wet pillow and place my free hand on my stomach to calm my frazzled nerves. Being yanked from a night terror with a phone call never makes a good wake-up call. "Yes?" My voice comes out raw and scratchy, worn with sleep.
"Is this Angel - Dr. Smith?" It had to be a work call. I release a shuttered sigh and stare at the ceiling.
"Yeah, how can I help you?" My mind still hasn't registered the voice; with my groggy state, it's unlikely it will. I glance at the clock and glower, it's barely eight in the morning. I wanted more sleep. Needed more sleep. My restless sleep wasn't adequate in the least.
"You stitched me up last night; the hospital said you had the day off?" The masculine voice makes my heart stutter as I let my head drop back onto the pillow. I attempted to think back on yesterday, I had a few surgeries. Two that were male, one that was female. I'm going to mark the woman off the possibilities. I'm positive I only gave my card to one of the two. I'm finally left with my answer, aren't I Sherlock Holmes?
"I'm going to guess you have a reason to call, other than a polite conversation?" I'm rewarded with a chuckle; well, isn't that nice for him, why can't I sleep in for once?
"This is Axel Woods." The sound of his name has his case reopening in my head; easy to remember what was done in surgery. I hoped he'd at least wait a few days before he popped something open.
"Oh, ok. What did you do?" If he's calling me, I really doubt it's for some kind of fantasy booty call or something equally enthralling. Like he'd want my mess.
"Well, I popped a few stitches." A yawn slips out before I can formulate a response.
"You should probably go get checked out for internal bleeding. I don't have a portable CT scanner." Not like I'd be able to travel with the damn thing; my car can't exactly transport it.
"That's not an issue; if you think it is, I can come up with something. Can you come and help me out, Doc?" Rubbing my eyes, I force myself to sit up. It's not like I'm going to be going back to bed. How freaking fun.
"Alright, where am I going?" I don't want to. My hands throw the crinkled covers off of my body as I stand and head for the bathroom.
"Have you heard of the Reaper's Dig?" I want to smack myself as I give a silent nod. Use your words, genius.
"Yeah, I know where that is. I'm guessing you'll be inside?" A loud sound slips over the line, followed by cursing. What on earth is he up to? I'm not sure I want to know what opened up his wounds, nothing smart I'm sure.
"No, I'll be waiting for you in the garage next door." He's got to be kidding. Did he even try to keep it sterile? I'd be absurd to think he kept them dry. Rolling my eyes at the thought and the carelessness to it all; I want to shake a few of these people. Why can't they just follow orders?
"Alright, I'll be there shortly. Try to keep pressure on the open wounds." With those as my parting words, I hang up. I rummage around for some clothes, and find a pair of dark skinny jeans, white undershirt, and a denim button up. Simple and cute enough. Grabbing clean undergarments before I head for the bathroom. I know it's slightly dressy, then again I live in scrubs, it's easy to get dressy. It's not like I get to go many places; sue me if I want to look cute when I get the chance. Who am I trying to pick a fight with? I like to look presentable, not like some run down hick at least.
My hair is brushed before it's tossed unceremoniously into a messy bun. Can't have that hanging down. I'm an idiot, I brush my teeth and get dressed to head towards my kitchen. Double checking everything, I grab my water and breakfast smoothie at least it's not wasted. Somewhat collected for the day, I slip on my shoes. Why can't things go as planned? Because I'm me, the answer is simple; it's rare that things work in my favor. I leave my cabin and lock the door as I try not to face plant down the steps.
Starting my car, I let it warm and come to idle. I enjoy the peaceful nature that surrounds my home. The simple exterior brings a sense of nostalgia to me. It's always been like this, it's never changed. I'll be honest, I can't bring myself to change the house, inside or out. I mean, I still sleep in my childhood bedroom. I only work up the courage to enter the other rooms when it's time to clean them. Sighing, I shake my head back out of the driveway before making my way towards the Reaper's Dig. My stomach churns with nerves at this point.
I haven't been to the place personally, mainly because I have never been one to drink. I've seen what it does; I despise it. Especially after my parents passed. Like any other person, I've had some alcoholic beverages. It's done nothing for me, nothing good anyway. It just seemed like a waste of time. I don't understand the appeal to it, but hey, everyone has their own things to enjoy. Why am I doing this? I'm going to their clubhouse; by choice.
I don't mind the distance to work - or anywhere else. It has a healing quality, helps relax me from the stresses of the day; plus there is some magnificent scenery to enjoy. Perfect for a night drive when you can't sleep. The cabin belonged to my family; one of the few things that I still have to remind me of them. Of our time we had together, I feel a sad smile drift over my face as I drive under a canopy of trees - reminding me of a forest wonderland.
Rolling down my window, I let the air dance freely in the cab. It tickles my skin with a carefree dance of happiness. Off to one side of the road, I see a family out playing with their kids and dogs. I smile seeing their happiness; hearing their shouts of glee and excitement. The father throws the frisbee, dogs launching to catch it while the mother pushes the kids on the swing set. I miss my dogs. I need to go see them today.
After driving some odd time, I pull up to a large fence, with what looks to be an older stout gentleman manning the gate. I'm doing this. My foot lands on the brake pedal to stop in front of the gate. I wait patiently for the man to walk up to my door, already having my window down to speak to him. "Are you lost, lady?" I hear his gruff voice drawl out as he checks around my vehicle, before his eyes trail down to my chest. Que mental eye roll at that, I know that I'm a girl but come on, my eyes are not my nipples. I shiver at the sexual perusal.
"No, I'm not lost. I'm here to visit Axel, I'm Angel - Dr. Smith." I hope to hurry this up, I want to get away from his visual perusal. Medical treatment is more important. I glance around as a voice crackles through the walkie-talkie. An order is given that has the gate creaking to open. I give a nod in thanks as the gate rolls open and I drive in. My heart slams against my ribs in awareness, I'm at the clubhouse. Surrounded by bikers. I'm greeted with multiple bikes, what looks to be a garage connected to a bar. Not everyone in leather is the same.
Both buildings look to be in good shape, the exterior of the bar looks to have been remodeled within the last few years. The larger bay windows being partially covered with red and black curtains, classic colors for a bar I suppose. I look at the sign for the bar The Reaper's Dig the logo is of a skeletal reaper riding on a flaming bike. It reminds me of the movie Ghost Rider. Of course their garage has a similar name being The Reaper's Garage those are some grade A names right there.
I'm not shocked; what I've heard is that this shop is mainly used by members and their families. They have another shop that is based solely for civilians without connections. Got to make that money somewhere, I suppose. As far as I know, they keep their operation on the clean side. I have to give them credit, most would just take the easy route and become one percent - they've refrained, definitely speak of their morals. I still don't know how I feel about this club.
I'm pretty sure they weren't always on the good side of things. Rumor had it the MC's Founder had a taste for blood and the darker joys of life. I shiver at the thought as I park my car. I don't know the truth behind that rumor, or if there is any. I've experienced how the grapevine plays with rumors. For all I know, the man just had a twisted sense of humor and laughed at others' pain. Not that either scenario sounds like a lot of fun to be dealing with. I can't exactly trust rumors. Anyone who can rely on those little things isn't your brightest bulb.
You should at least have some facts before making an assumption on the matter. Shaking my head at the thought, it doesn't matter. I'm only here to be doctoring up the man and getting out of here. I want to spend my free day with my dogs, not thinking about others and the rumors that surround them. I shut it off before stepping out to the trunk of my car. I always keep a first aid bag for such occasions.
I can't remember how many times this thing became useful and helped save a life or two. Of course, for the most part, it's just cleaning a minor wound before applying some bandages. While it's not nearly as exciting, it still means something to whoever I'm helping. I like to think anyway. Popping my trunk, I reach in and heft out the bag, dropping the strap on my shoulder before I let the bag rest on my side. Shutting the trunk, I lock my car, taking another opportunity to look around.
My eyes are drawn to a third building, this one looking very plain; the cinder block structure doesn't have character or warmth to offer. Looking around, I try to find a name for it, only to come up empty. I'm not sure what that one is supposed to be, but it's a decent size. I can't imagine this one being left empty or without a use. Then again, it's not like this is my issue either. Focus on the issue you were called about. Turning towards the building, I watch as a man from last night steps out looking around.
Great the behemoth who likes to growl. Not the man I want to be engaging in conversation with. His large stature is hard to miss if I'm being honest. His tall and bulky frame made him stand out in a crowd, considering it looks like he could look over everyone without even trying. Not to mention that he has a pretty memorable face, one that I doubt anyone will forget. I still think Axel is better looking, then again it's not like my opinion means a damn thing. Stop getting distracted.