"Slowly."
The biker swallowed.
Again.
Then again.
Minutes later, the ambulance arrived.
The paramedics rushed inside.
One of them checked the biker's blood sugar.
Another looked at Caleb.
"You got lucky."
Caleb wiped blood from his lip.
"I think he did."
The paramedic looked at the biker.
"No. I'm talking about you."
The biker slowly turned his head.
His eyes met Caleb's.
And for a moment, neither said anything.
Then the biker whispered:
"What's your name, kid?"
"Caleb."
"Caleb what?"
"Mitchell."
The biker nodded.
"Caleb Mitchell."
He repeated the name as if memorizing it.
Then the paramedics loaded him into the ambulance.
Before the doors closed, he looked at Caleb one last time.
"I owe you."
Caleb shook his head.
"You don't owe me anything."
The biker smiled faintly.
"Everybody says that."
The ambulance doors shut.
And Caleb thought that was the end of it.
He was wrong.
Three days later, Caleb was riding his old bicycle home after his shift.
His ribs hurt.
His eye was still swollen.
His mother had begged him not to go back to work.
But Caleb needed the money.
His mother, Sarah, worked double shifts at a nursing home.
Their rent was already late.
Their refrigerator was almost empty.
And Caleb had been saving every dollar he could because he wanted to buy his mother a reliable car.
He turned onto Maple Street.
Halfway down the block, he heard an engine.
Then another.
Then another.
Caleb looked behind him.
One motorcycle appeared at the intersection.
Then five.
Then ten.
Then twenty.
He slowed his bicycle.
More motorcycles turned the corner.
Black.
Chrome.
Heavy.
Loud.
Within seconds, the entire street seemed to vibrate.
Caleb stopped.
Forty-seven motorcycles rolled slowly toward him.
Every rider wore a black vest.
Every rider had the same bear emblem.
Caleb's stomach dropped.
He stepped off his bicycle.
The motorcycles stopped.
Engines went silent.
For a few seconds, nobody moved.
Then one man removed his helmet.
He was the biker from the diner.
Except now he looked completely different.
Standing upright, he seemed even larger.
A thick scar ran across his left eyebrow.
He walked toward Caleb.
Caleb swallowed.
"Are you okay?"
The biker smiled.
"I'm better."