Then at the sweat soaking Caleb’s shirt.
“Kid.”
Caleb’s eyes filled.
He hated that.
Crying in front of strangers was bad enough.
Crying in front of six bikers seemed worse.
“I need gas.”
“We gathered that.”
“My mom’s car stopped.”
Bear looked toward Route 89.
“Where?”
Caleb pointed south.
“How far?”
“Seven miles.”
Every biker stopped moving.
Bear stared.
“You walked seven miles?”
Caleb nodded.
“In this heat?”
Another nod.
The biker beside Bear swore quietly.
Bear crouched.
He did it slowly, bringing his face closer to Caleb’s level.
“What happened to your mother?”
“She’s sick.”
“How sick?”
Caleb tried answering.
His voice failed.
Bear waited.
Caleb finally whispered, “She couldn't walk anymore.”
The entire yard went silent.
Bear’s expression changed so quickly that Caleb almost did not recognize the same man.
“What do you mean she couldn't walk?”
“She keeps getting dizzy.”
“Fever?”
Caleb nodded.
“Throwing up?”
“Yes.”
“How long?”
“Since yesterday.”
Bear stood.
Everything happened at once.
He pointed toward one biker.
“Doc, bag.”
To another:
“Rico, water and ice.”
Then to Caleb:
“Show us.”
Caleb stared.
Bear picked up the red gas can.
“Kid.”
“You said seven miles south?”
“Yes.”
“Get on.”
Caleb looked at the motorcycle.
Then at Bear.
“No.”
Bear almost smiled.
“Smart.”
He pointed toward an old black pickup parked beside the clubhouse.
“We'll take the truck.”
Within ninety seconds, four motorcycles and the pickup were moving onto Route 89.
Caleb sat in the passenger seat beside Bear.
A biker everyone called Doc rode in the back seat with a medical bag.
The remaining riders followed behind them.
Caleb kept expecting questions about the stolen gasoline.
None came.
Bear drove fast but carefully.
“What's your mother's name?”
“Rachel.”
“Rachel what?”
“Mercer.”
Bear’s hands tightened almost imperceptibly around the steering wheel.
Caleb did not notice.
Doc did.
He looked at Bear through the mirror.
Bear said nothing.
Seven minutes later, Caleb shouted:
“There!”
The old Chevrolet appeared ahead.
Half on the shoulder.
Hazard lights no longer flashing.
Rachel Mercer sat inside.
Her head rested against the passenger window.
Caleb ripped open the truck door before Bear had fully stopped.
“Mom!”
Bear grabbed the back of Caleb’s shirt before he could run into the road.
“Wait.”
Motorcycles blocked the lane side of the shoulder.
Doc was already moving.
He opened the Chevrolet door.
“Ma’am?”
Rachel stirred.
Her eyes opened.
She looked at the six men surrounding her vehicle.
Then at Caleb.
Panic appeared immediately.
“Caleb?”
“I’m here.”
“What did you do?”
“I found help.”
Rachel tried sitting upright.