@lincolnoftrikru
Blake was woken up by screaming in the shitty warehouse, he and the other sons of the biker group his Mother ran with. The older boy’s ran out some in pajamas and boxers, others slept fully clothed for this reason. The younger boys ran to rusted over bathroom locking a barricading the door. Blake reached for his knife and quickly strapped the leather belt under his shirt. Then he reached for the gun that his mother’s boyfriend Graham had given him. He knew his mother didn’t want him to have it, she hadn’t wanted Graham to move him into his young men’s rooms. He had anyway, he had told his mother that she should be lucky he’d taking such a liking to child that wasn’t his. But as he searched under the the dirty tshirts and and ashtrays he found the gun missing. He looked up in pure terror as his mother ran in the room and pulled him the bed, slinging him a backpack and his helmet case. She hissed for him to pack only what he could carry. He slung his clothes and hygiene kit in the bag, then he stole a lighter and pack of cigarettes from the bed next to him when his mother wasn’t looking. He honestly didn’t have much that was his alone since moving into the group room. He had a couple of books, and some flashdrives he also slung it in. Then he remembered the scrapbook Graham threw away and grabbed it too. “Where’s my gun?” “You don’t need it anymore,” His mother said slinging him his hoodie. - His mother had stolen Graham’s right hand man’s truck and they drove for miles before they hit a dirt road where one of the men met them with his bike. Octavia got them out of the car and hugged her son and gave him instructions. Then got in the truck and left. Her instructions are clear, you’re going to live with your father. She gave him about twenty eight dollars to get gas if he had too. Take the interstate for sixety four miles, the get off at the exit and they’ll be a tavern like diner eight more miles. Go in and ask for Indra, tell her who you are, full name, tell her I’m your mother and then ask for your father.
Blake did as he was told feeling the wind on his face and that kept him from losing it, trying not to remember how worried he was about his mother. He got to the Roadhouse at about ten thirty and night and went in. Indra was cold looking woman who hissed at being bothered, but then looked shaken when he told him what his mother said. She stoically walked from behind the bar and pulled him in uncomfortably close. Then ordered someone to call Lincoln. That must be his father’s name.