Even exhausted, even half conscious, she could read him like a book. You're crying. Walter hadn't realized he was. He wiped his eyes with his free, not letting go of her with the other. I thought I lost you.
Not yet. The faintest smile crossed her lips. Still got a Still got a grandson to meet. Before Walter could respond, footsteps approached. Grizzly appeared out of the shadows, moving quietly for such a large man.
He'd been sleeping on one of the couches, still fully dressed, boots and all. She's awake. It wasn't a question. Just now, Walter said. Grizzly moved to the other side of the pool table, his eyes scanning Dorothy with the same clinical precision he had shown hours earlier.
Mrs. Callahan, can you tell me your full name? Dorothy's brow furrowed. Dorothy. Dorothy Anne Callahan.
What year is it? 20,000. And she paused, thinking, 26. Good. You know where you are?
Somewhere I probably shouldn't be. Her voice was getting stronger. Biker bar. A smile tugged at the corner of Grizzly's mouth. Close enough.
You gave us quite a scare. I gave myself quite a scare. Dorothy tried to sit up. The movement made her wse and Grizzly's hand shot out, steadying hers. Easy.
You've been through hell. Doc Matthews said you need to take it slow. How slow we have to get to Silver Falls? Doc's coming back at 6:00 to check on you again. If he clears you, we leave at 7.
Dorothy's eyes widened. We You didn't think we'd send you back out there alone, did you? Grizzly crossed his arms. Storm's supposed to break around dawn. Roads will still be a mess, but we've got vehicles that can handle it.
And we've got people who know every back road between here and Montana. You don't have to do this, Walter said. Even though the thought of trying to make the journey alone made his chest tight with fear. Yeah, we do. Grizzly's voice was flat brooking.
No argument. Now both of you need to get some real sleep. We got about 90 minutes before Doc shows up. Use them. He walked away before either of them could protest.
Walter watched him go, then looked back at Dorothy. Her eyes were already starting to close again. "Walter? " "Yeah, these are good people. " "Yeah," Walter whispered. "I think they are. " At 6:15 a.m., Doc Matthews declared Dorothy stable enough to travel. At 6:47, the clubhouse exploded into organized chaos.
"Axel, get the Suburban running and check the tire chains. " And Grizzly's voice cut through the early morning air like a whip. Cheryl, I need those supply bags. Packed food, water, blankets, first aid kit. Tiny, you're driving the chase vehicle. Take the F250.
Walter stood near the door, bundled in a parka someone had loaned him. Watching the Devil's Backbone MC transform into something that looked disturbingly like a military convoy preparing for deployment. Six vehicles were being loaded in the parking lot, two pickup trucks the Suburban Grizzly had mentioned, and three SUVs that had seen better days, but looked like they could drive through a brick wall. Dorothy sat in a wheelchair someone had produced from god knows where, also wrapped in borrowed winter gear. Her color was better, but she still looked fragile.
Doc Matthews hovered nearby, checking her pulse every few minutes like he expected her to flatline at any moment. This is insane, the doctor muttered. She should be in a hospital. She should be in Silver Falls, Dorothy corrected him. Her voice was weak but determined.
And if these people are willing to help us get there, I'm not arguing. A woman with purple hair, Cheryl Walter remembered, appeared with two paper bags. Breakfast sandwiches, egg and sausage, and coffee. She thrust the bags at Walter. You're going to need your strength.
Thank you. Really, I don't know how to Don't. Cheryl's face was hard, but her eyes were kind. Just get to your son. That's thanks enough.
Grizzly emerged from the clubhouse carrying what looked like a tactical radio. He barked something at Axel, who was already in the driver's seat of the Suburban, then turned to survey the parking lot. His gaze landed on Walter and Dorothy. "You two ready, as will ever be," Walter said. "Good.
You're riding in the Suburban with me and Axel. Doc's coming too, just in case. The others will run interference. One truck ahead, one behind SUVs flanking. If we hit trouble, we've got backup. " "What kind of trouble are you expecting? " Dorothy asked.
Grizzly's expression was grim. The kind that happens when you drive through a blizzard's aftermath on back roads that aren't maintained. Down trees, rock slides, ice patches that'll flip a vehicle before you know what hit you. Plus, we're going through territory where Devil's Backbone isn't exactly welcome. Walter felt his stomach drop.
What do you mean? Means there's another club up North Iron Cross MC. We've got history. Bad history. Their territory starts about 50 miles from here and Silver Falls is right in the middle of it.
Grizzly's jaw tighten, but they're not going to stop us. Nothing's going to stop us. Understood? It wasn't a question. It was a promise.
At 7:00 sharp, the convoy rolled out. Walter sat in the backseat of the Suburban, Dorothy beside him with her head on his shoulder. Doc Matthews rode shotgun, his medical bag clutched in his lap. Axel drove with the steady confidence of someone who'd navigated worse roads in worse conditions. Grizzly sat behind Axel, the tactical radio in his hand, and calling out updates to the other vehicles.
Lead truck, what's your visual? The radio crackled. Roads clear for now, Grizz. Visibilities may be quarter mile. Snow's still coming down, but it's lighter.
Copy that. Maintain the speed at 40. Don't outrun your headlights. The landscape outside was a white nightmare. Snow had drifted across the highway in places, creating obstacles that forced Axel to navigate carefully.
The plow trucks hadn't made it out here yet. Might not make it for days. The convoy was on its own. Dorothy stirred against Walter's shoulder. How far to Silver Falls?
160 mi, Grizzly said without turning around. 4 hours in good conditions today. Six, maybe seven, maybe more if we hit complications. We'll make it, Dorothy said softly. We have to.
Nobody responded to that. The Suburban's heater blasted warm air, but Walter still felt cold. Not from the temperature, from the weight of everything riding on this journey. They were asking these strangers to risk their lives, their vehicles, their safety, all for two old people trying to fix a broken family. Why are you really doing this?
The question escaped before Walter could stop it. Grizzly was silent for a long moment. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter than Walter had heard it. You know which what the hardest part of war is? It's not the fighting.
It's not even watching your buddies die. It's coming home and realizing the person you were before is gone and the people you love don't know how to talk to the person you became. Walter waited behind the wheel. Axel's hands tightened slightly. I came back from Afghanistan in 2012.
Grizzly continued. Two tours, three years total. Saw things that'll never leave my head. Did things I'll never talk about. When I got home, my son was 11.
Smart kid. Loved baseball. Loved science class. Loved his old man. He paused.
But his old man didn't come back. I did, but the version of me he remembered that guy died in a firefight outside Kandahar. Dorothy's hand found Walters squeezed. I tried, Grizzly said. God knows I tried, but I was angry all the time.
Couldn't sleep. Couldn't sit still. Couldn't be in crowds without my hand going for a weapon that wasn't there. My wife, ex-wife, now she tried to help. But how do you help someone who won't admit they're broken?
His voice went hard. I started drinking, started fights, started pushing away everyone who gave a damn about me. And one day, my son looked at me and said, "You're not my dad anymore. " He was 14. The Suburban hit a patch of ice. Axel compensated smoothly, but the momentary slide made everyone tense.
Haven't seen him since, Grizzly finished. He's 17 now, living with his mother in Seattle. I've got his number. I've typed out text messages a thousand times. Never hit send.