Page 47 of Hell and Halos

Where it is now does.

And Badlands is gone. It don't exist no more.

There was no vote about this part. Each man got to make his own decision—leave the MC life behind and go try somethin' new? Or move down to Custer and join Sons of Dust.

That's why I went out to June's place last week. To say a proper goodbye to her, yes. But to ask my new brother if he had some room for more. As pres, it was my job to do the best I could for them.

And I tried. I really did do my best.

Not everyone is goin'. Crow is all the way out. He's already gone. Dusty too. They're young enough that they can still imagine a new life.

But Diesel is in. Ratchet and Butch as well.

One day I'll make my way down there and we'll meet up again.

But as for me, I'm out too.

I got bigger dreams than clubs.

So, no. No one's goin' to prison over those bodies, or this black ops Bakken Operation, or even the traffickin'.

Not even Mike.

It's a concession on our part. Not because we don't want him and all those people to get what they deserve. The whole thing is sick. It makes me sick now, just thinkin' about it.

I did what I could. Cash and I, we did what we could. We stopped it.

Not everywhere, just here.

And that's not selfishness, or self-interest, or cowardice. It's not even possible to punish these people. Justice is a myth. A fantasy.

Because they run everything.

Every. Fuckin'. Thing.

We could kill them, and that could still happen if Mike makes all the wrong choices tonight. We will do that if we have to.

But even if we did, it's got nothin' to do with punishment, or justice, or retribution.

Because this is just how the world fuckin' turns.

Ya see, it really is controlled by demons.

Demons like Mike here. And Marcus. And Senator White. And Brick, Ledger, and Roach. And every other motherfucker in any kind of power who collects off the backs of children bein' moved in trucks across the Montana badlands and funds it all with black ops Bakken oil money.

You think the federal government is gonna bust their own fuckin' people?

They are the evil on my back, and my chest, and my arms.

They are the evil.

And this whole fuckin' place is Hell.

You can't get rid of evil because it belongs here.

We're the ones who don't.

All you can do is make yourself a space.