Echoes of the Underground

(Kaz pov)

I was puffing on this Marlboro cigarette, the smoke hitting differently. "Yo, Tommy, you heard from the rest of the crew?" I asked, my eyes glued to the burning stick between my fingers.

Tommy was quiet, lost in thought. The dame on the bed didn't have a clue about our world, didn't know what we were talking about. "Only word I got is from Max," he finally spit out. "He's runnin' with the Bandidos now."

"What about the rest?" I pushed, my heart hammering in my chest. The silence was a punch in the gut.

"Nothin'," Tommy admitted, looking like he'd seen a ghost. "This ain't good, man."

Anger bubbled up inside me. "How we gonna reach 'em, damn it?" I kicked the fancy-ass furniture in the motel room, the noise echoing around us. The dame on the bed didn't even flinch, lost in her own little world, while ours was falling apart.

I took a final, hard drag of the nearly finished Marlboro, the smoke filling my lungs. I held it in, savoring the burn, before exhaling a thick cloud of smoke. The room filled with a hazy fog, the air heavy with tension and nicotine.

"Here, Tommy," I said, passing the dying cigarette to him. He took it without a word, his fingers brushing against mine. He took a long drag, the tip flaring brightly before fading, the smoke curling up towards the stained motel ceiling. We were silent, the only sound was the soft crackle of the burning tobacco and our own ragged breaths.

I started pacing back and forth, from the door to the window, then back to the door again. My mind was racing, trying to come up with a plan. The cops were on our tail, and the boys... they weren't safe, not wherever they were. My piece, my gun, it felt too small, too insignificant against the men in blue. What the hell was I supposed to do now?

I turned to the dame on the bed, her skin smooth and clean, I stared at her bum shot and I was at a pulse trying to keep it together, to not show any weakness.

But inside, I was scared. As scared as anyone else in the room. I didn't think the dame was scared though. She'd helped me and my brother, and she didn't have as many charges hanging over her head as I did. If I got caught...

The dame was still lying on the bed, her brown skin glowing in the dim light. I could feel her eyes on me, watching me.

I could feel her gaze burning into me, but I wasn't about to let her see me sweat. "Yo, lady, eyes off me," I snapped, continuing my pacing.

Just then, my phone rang, cutting through the tense silence. I fished it out of my pocket, my heart pounding as I saw the caller ID - it was Ronny, one of the bikers.

With a quick glance at Tommy, I answered the call, putting it on speaker. "Ronny," I said, my voice steady despite the fear gnawing at my gut. "Talk to me." The room fell silent as we waited for his response.

Ronny's voice came through the speaker, faint and shaky. It sounded like he was badly wounded, his voice barely a whisper. "Where the hell are you, bruh?" I asked, my heart pounding in my chest.

"I'm in a place that smells like a dump," he managed to get out and I could hear the sound of cans and dutch bags then he replied "I'm here with some of the other boys."

I was quick to respond, "How many of you guys are there?"

"We're... 10 or 12, I don't know," he replied, his voice fading.

"Yeah, that's good, bruh," I said, trying to keep the relief out of my voice.

As Ronny's voice faded, it seemed like he moved over to the side of the other boys. Recognizing that he was talking to me and Tommy, one of the boys snatched the phone from him and spoke loudly into the speaker.

"Yo, brother, where are you at? We're chilling in some fine-ass place. Hope you guys are good there."

"We're alright," I responded, trying to keep my voice steady. "At least we're safe here till the po-po is off our ass." The relief in my voice was palpable.

"Listen up, boys," I said, my voice steady and commanding. "We gotta stay low, keep our heads down. Watch your backs, watch each other's backs. We're a crew, we stick together. The po-po is on our ass now, but we ain't gonna let 'em catch us. We're smarter than them, tougher than them. We just gotta stay cool, stay smart. We'll get through this, I promise you that."

There was a pause, the silence heavy in the room. Then, one by one, the boys on the other end of the line started to respond.

"Got it, boss," came the first voice, gruff and determined.

"We ain't going down without a fight," another added, his voice filled with resolve.

"We're with you, all the way," a third voice chimed in.

Each voice that followed echoed the same sentiment. We were a crew, a family. And we were going to fight to keep it that way. No matter what.

"Alright, boys," I said, my voice steady despite the turmoil inside me. "I'm gonna call Rodriguez. I'll ask him if he can make it possible for us to get to Columbia. Stay low, stay safe. We'll get through this."

With that, I ended the call, the silence in the room heavy and oppressive.

I picked up my phone again, dialing Rodriguez's number. The phone rang for a few seconds before he picked up.

"Rodriguez," I said, my voice steady. "It's me."

"Ah, amigo," Rodriguez replied, his voice a mix of English and Spanish. "¿Cómo estás?"

"I've been better," I admitted. "Listen, I need a favor. Can you make it possible for us to get to Columbia?"

There was a pause on the other end of the line. "Es peligroso," he finally said. "But for you, amigo, I will see what I can do."

"Gracias, Rodriguez," I said, relief washing over me. "We'll be in touch."

Just as I was about to put the phone down, the piercing sound of sirens filled the air. My heart pounded in my chest as I recognized the sound - it was the police. The blue boys were here.

A voice blared from a loudspeaker, the words echoing around the room. "This is the police! We have the building surrounded. Come out with your hands up!"

My blood ran cold. This was it. The moment we'd been dreading. The po-po had found us.

I turned to look at Tommy and the fine-ass lady. Their eyes were wide with shock, the reality of the situation sinking in. The police were downstairs. We were trapped.

We looked around the room, desperate for a way out. The room was a mess, tables and chairs scattered everywhere. In a frenzy, we started to move the furniture, creating a chaotic mess in the room. I grabbed a chair and started to smash it against the ceiling, plaster and dust raining down on us.

The motel receptionist was at the door, knocking and pleading for us to stop, but we paid no attention. We were desperate, trapped like rats in a cage. But we weren't going to back down now and get ourselves trapped with some government bangles.

We scrambled up into the ceiling, the plaster and dust falling around us. The police downstairs kept announcing, "You guys are surrounded, and we're coming to get you!"

They weren't aware that we were in the ceiling, which was good for us. We kept creeping through the ceiling to the other side, trying to stay as quiet as possible.

Then the police got to the door. The receptionist, who had been barking like a dog, went silent. The tension skyrocketed as it was clear that the police had an idea we were in the ceiling.

As we were creeping through the ceiling, we saw a glimmer of hope - a sparkle at the end of the other side of the ceiling. It was our way out. But then, another part of the ceiling broke, and it was the po-po coming in. We had to move fast.

"Move it!" I hissed at Tommy and the dame, my heart pounding in my chest. "We gotta get out of here before the po-po gets us!"

We scrambled towards the sparkle, the sound of the police closing in echoing in our ears. The tension was palpable, the fear even more so.

Suddenly, the sound of gunfire echoed through the room. A bullet hit my leg, the pain sharp and immediate. But it only spurred me on. With a grunt, I pushed Tommy, who in turn pushed the dame. We all tumbled out of the ceiling, landing in a heap on the floor. The room was filled with dust and the deafening sound of gunfire.