Chapter 2 - The Wounded Stranger on the Counter
“Mommy?”
Grace Carter’s voice sounded tiny in the darkness.
Emergency lights had not yet activated. The diner was illuminated only by lightning and several phone screens that came alive before Michael immediately ordered them lowered.
Emily moved fast.
“Grace, honey, stay there.”
Her daughter stood barefoot at the hallway entrance wearing pink pajamas covered in little yellow stars.
Her blonde hair was tangled from sleep.
She clutched a worn stuffed rabbit beneath one arm.
Then lightning flashed again.
Grace saw them.
Thirty-nine bikers.
Leather.
Beards.
Tattoos.
A bleeding man stretched across the counter.
Her eyes widened.
“Mom?”
Emily crossed the diner in seconds and crouched in front of her.
“It’s okay.”
“Who are they?”
“Travelers.”
Grace peeked around her mother.
Michael had deliberately moved farther away.
Several bikers looked at the floor rather than risk frightening her.
Danny groaned from the counter.
Grace noticed.
“Is that man hurt?”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“He fell off his motorcycle.”
Grace considered this.
“Did you give him the red box?”
Emily almost laughed.
“Yes.”
“The one Grandpa said was for emergencies?”
“Yes.”
Grace looked past her again.
“Then he’ll be okay.”
Children possessed a confidence adults spent their lives losing.
Emily wished she had some of it.
Michael stepped forward only after Emily looked at him.
He stopped ten feet away.
“Hi, Grace.”
Emily shot him a warning look.
Michael immediately explained.
“Heard your mom say your name.”
Grace clung closer to Emily.
“You’re really big.”
A couple of bikers coughed to hide smiles.
Michael looked down at himself.
“So I’ve been told.”
“Are you a bad guy?”
Silence.
Emily closed her eyes for half a second.
“Grace—”
Michael lifted a hand.
“It’s all right.”
He looked at the child thoughtfully.
“I’ve done some things I’m not proud of.”
Grace frowned.
“That means yes.”
One rider snorted.
Michael gave him a look.
The rider suddenly became interested in the ceiling.
Michael returned his attention to Grace.
“It means people can make bad choices without being bad every minute of their lives.”
Grace thought about this.
“My friend Lucy stole my purple crayon.”
Michael nodded solemnly.
“That sounds serious.”
“She gave it back.”
“Then there’s hope for Lucy.”
Grace smiled.
The tension in the diner eased.
Emily felt it too.
Then the backup lights came on.
A dull amber glow filled the room.
Grace noticed Danny more clearly.
His face was pale and sweat beaded along his forehead.
“Mommy, he looks sick.”
Emily touched his forehead.
Too warm.
Her concern returned immediately.
“Michael.”
He approached.
“He’s heating up.”
“Infection already?”
“Could be stress. Could be shock. Could be a lot of things.”
Danny opened his eyes.
“People talking like I’m dead.”
“You’re too annoying to die,” one biker said.
Danny smiled weakly.
Grace whispered, “He said a bad word before.”
Danny looked toward her.
“I did?”
“I heard you.”
“Sorry.”
Grace folded her arms.
“My mom says bad words when the freezer breaks.”
Emily stared at her daughter.
“Grace.”
“What?”
More restrained laughter spread through the diner.
Emily looked at the clock.
11:18.
“How long until the pass opens?” Michael asked.
“Morning if we’re lucky.”
“And if we’re not?”
“Tomorrow afternoon.”
Michael glanced at Danny.
“That’s too long.”
Emily knew it.
She reached beneath the register and pulled out a battery-powered radio.
Static crackled.
Then a county emergency broadcast came through.
“…multiple washouts reported along Highway 18. Residents are advised to shelter in place. Emergency crews are responding to downed power lines near Redwood Valley…”
Emily adjusted the dial.
“…Kingsport ambulance service currently unable to cross Miller Creek due to flooding…”
Michael’s jaw tightened.
“That answers that.”
Emily looked at Danny.
They needed another plan.
“Do you have a doctor in your group?”
“No.”
“EMT?”
A man near the booths raised his hand.
“Was volunteer fire fifteen years ago.”
Emily pointed.
“Congratulations. You’re promoted.”
The man introduced himself as Pete Lawson.
Together, Pete and Emily checked Danny again.
Blood pressure impossible to measure accurately without proper equipment.
Pulse fast.
Skin cold despite the feverish sensation at his forehead.
“He may still be in shock,” Pete said.
Emily nodded.
“We keep him warm. Keep monitoring.”
Michael asked, “Anything else?”
“We hope.”
The word settled heavily.
Grace tugged Emily’s sleeve.
“Mommy?”
“Yes?”
“Can I get my blanket for him?”
Emily stared at her.
Grace pointed toward Danny.
“Grandpa said cold people need blankets.”
Michael looked away.
Emily recognized why.
The hardened biker’s eyes had become suspiciously wet.
“Go get it,” Emily said softly.
Grace disappeared down the hallway.
Michael cleared his throat.
“Good kid.”
“She gets it from her grandfather.”
“Not you?”
Emily looked at him.
“Right now, I’m still deciding whether letting thirty-nine bikers into my diner was courage or stupidity.”
“Could be both.”
She almost smiled.
Grace returned carrying a blue quilt.
Emily helped drape it over Danny.
He opened his eyes.
“Thanks, kid.”
“It has dinosaurs.”
“Even better.”
Grace sat in a booth where Emily could watch her.
A rider named Cole brought her warm milk without being asked.
Emily intercepted it.
“What’s in that?”
Cole looked offended.
“Milk.”
“What else?”
“Honey.”
Grace raised her hand.
“I like honey.”
Emily inspected the mug anyway.
Cole glanced at Michael.
“She interrogate everybody like this?”
Michael answered, “Probably why she’s still alive.”
Emily gave him a hard look.
Michael’s mouth twitched.
As the next hour passed, the impossible became almost ordinary.
The bikers settled quietly throughout the diner.
Many had been riding since dawn.
Emily discovered the charity run Michael mentioned was real. They had delivered donations to a children’s rehabilitation center outside Phoenix.
“Why?” she asked him.
Michael was drying his helmet near the door.
“Why what?”
“Why a children’s center?”
He stopped.
Then he pulled out his phone.
The screen showed a girl around eleven wearing a baseball cap.
“She’s my granddaughter. Lily.”
Emily’s expression softened.
“She okay?”
“Leukemia. Been fighting fourteen months.”
“I’m sorry.”
“She’s stubborn.”
“Good.”
Michael smiled.
“She organized the ride.”
“Your granddaughter?”
“Said sitting around feeling scared was boring. Wanted money raised for other sick kids.”
Emily shook her head.
“She sounds terrifying.”
“She is.”
Emily looked across the diner.
“These men all rode for her?”
“Most.”
“What about the rest?”
“Some rode because they owed me.”
His expression changed.
“Some because they owed themselves a reason to do something decent.”
Emily understood more than he probably realized.
Outside, rain continued pounding the town.
Inside, strangers became names.
Reyes.
Tommy.
Cole.
Pete.
Big Jim.
Owen.
Marcus.
Some had prison tattoos.
Some had wedding rings.
One showed Grace pictures of his dachshund wearing sunglasses.
Another quietly fixed the hinge on Emily’s pantry door because he noticed it sagging.
Emily caught him.
“What are you doing?”
“Door’s crooked.”
“I know.”
“You got a screwdriver?”
“You break it, you bought it.”
He grinned.
“Fair.”
At 12:22, Danny suddenly jerked awake.
“Wait.”
Michael rushed over.
“What?”
Danny tried to sit up.
Emily stopped him.
“Don’t.”
“The bike.”
“Forget the bike.”
“No.”
His breathing accelerated.
“My bag.”
“What bag?”
“Saddlebag.”
Michael leaned closer.
“What about it?”
Danny’s eyes filled with panic.
“Medication.”
Emily’s stomach dropped.
“What medication?”
Danny swallowed.
“Insulin.”
“You’re diabetic?”
“Type one.”
Emily stared at Michael.
Michael swore.
“Where’s the bag?”
“Bike.”
“Which bike?”
“Blue Road King.”
Reyes was already running toward the door.
Emily grabbed his arm.
“You go out there in this lightning, you could get killed.”
“Danny needs that bag.”
Another crash of thunder shook the windows.
The parking lot had begun flooding.
Water rushed across the gravel in muddy streams.
Michael looked toward Danny.
“How long since your last dose?”
Danny squeezed his eyes shut.
“Afternoon.”
Emily felt fear creep upward.
His sweating.
His weakness.
His unusual breathing.
It might not all be blood loss.
“Does the kit have glucose strips?” Pete asked.
Danny shook his head.
“Meter’s in the bag.”
Michael pulled on his wet jacket.
Emily stepped in front of him.
“Absolutely not.”
“He needs it.”
“So we figure out a safe way.”
“He could die while we figure.”
Emily looked outside.
The motorcycles were fifty feet away.
Normally nothing.
Tonight it might as well have been a mile.
Water already reached several wheel hubs.
Then Emily remembered something.
“The maintenance rope.”
Michael frowned.
“What?”
“My father used a safety rope when flash floods crossed the lot.”
She ran into the storage room.
Seconds later she returned carrying a thick climbing rope.
“We anchor one end inside. Nobody crosses alone.”
Michael studied her.
“You always this prepared?”
“My father was paranoid.”
“Tonight I like your father.”
They secured the rope around a structural support.
Michael tied the other end around his waist.
Reyes clipped in behind him.
Emily handed Michael a flashlight.
“Blue motorcycle. Saddlebag.”
He nodded.
“Two minutes.”
“Michael.”
He looked back.
“If the water rises, forget the bag.”
He held her gaze.
“You know I can’t.”
Before she could answer, he stepped into the storm.
The wind nearly knocked him sideways.
Reyes followed.
The bikers crowded near the window but kept the doorway clear.
Grace appeared beside Emily.
“Where is Mr. Mason going?”
“To help Danny.”
Lightning erupted.
The diner shook.
For one second, Emily lost sight of both men.
Then the rope pulled tight.
“Michael!” she shouted.
Shapes moved through the rain.
One.
Two.
Still upright.
They reached the motorcycles.
Michael searched.
Reyes pointed.
Another lightning strike revealed floodwater surging deeper through the lot.
Too fast.
“Come back!” Emily screamed.
Michael yanked open a saddlebag.
Something floated away.
He grabbed a black case.
Then a terrifying sound rose above the storm.
Not thunder.
A low mechanical roar.
Pete’s face changed.
“Flash flood.”
Water burst from the drainage ditch at the edge of the property.
It slammed into the motorcycles.
Three bikes toppled.
Reyes lost his footing.
The rope snapped tight.
Michael grabbed him with one arm.
Inside, thirty men seized the rope.
“Pull!”
Emily shouted.
They hauled.
Foot by foot.
Michael and Reyes fought against muddy water.
A motorcycle swept sideways behind them.
Grace screamed.
Emily wrapped one arm around her daughter while pulling the rope with the other.
“Come on!”
Michael stumbled.
Recovered.
Reyes disappeared waist-deep, then emerged again.
Ten feet.
Five.
Two.
Hands reached through the doorway.
The men were dragged inside.
Michael collapsed on the wooden floor, gasping.
Still clenched in his fist was Danny’s medical case.
Emily stared down at him.
“You absolute idiot.”
Michael looked up.
“That gratitude?”
“No.”
He raised the case.
“Got it.”
Emily took it.
Then stopped.
The outer pocket had torn open.
The glucose meter remained.
Needles remained.
But Michael's expression changed as he searched the case.
“Where’s the insulin?”
Danny looked over.
His face went white.
Michael checked again.
Nothing.
The medicine had been swept away.
And outside, the flood was rising too quickly for anyone to try again.
Danny had only hours before his condition could become far more dangerous.
Then the radio crackled.
A dispatcher’s voice broke through the static.
“…all access to Redwood Valley is now cut off…”
Emily looked at the wounded young man beneath Grace’s dinosaur quilt.
May you like
The storm had trapped them.
And saving Danny’s arm was no longer their biggest problem.
