He found a large flat river rock nearby and kicked it directly next to the engine block.
Wedge.
Rock.
Push.
Leo shoved the end of the wooden post under the frame of the Harley, resting the middle of the wood over the rock.
Then he threw his entire ninety-pound body weight onto the far end of the post.
The wood groaned.
The mud shifted.
But incredibly, the heavy motorcycle lifted.
Only four inches.
But it was enough.
“Pull yourself out!” Leo screamed, his arms shaking violently, his face turning purple from the strain.
Splinters from the post dug deep into his raw hands.
Tommy, running on pure adrenaline and agonizing pain, dug his massive tattooed hands into the muddy earth and dragged his upper body backward.
The moment he was clear of the engine, the wet wood snapped with a loud crack.
The Harley slammed back down into the dirt, burying the engine block exactly where Tommy’s chest had been a second before.
Leo collapsed backward into the mud, gasping for air.
But it was not over.
Tommy was free of the crushing weight, but the wound in his thigh was dangerously bad.
“Kid,” Tommy grunted, his voice fading rapidly. “I’m bleeding out.”
Leo scrambled to Tommy’s side.
He had seen movies. He knew he needed a tourniquet.
He reached for his ruined backpack, frantically unbuckling the heavy canvas shoulder strap.
“Hold still,” Leo ordered, his voice suddenly empty of fear.
He wrapped the strap high up on Tommy’s massive thigh, just above the injury, but he could not pull it tight enough by hand.
Leo looked around, grabbed a thick, sturdy branch from the ground, and slipped it under the knot he had tied.
He twisted the branch like a propeller, tightening the canvas strap deeper and deeper into Tommy’s leg.
Tommy let out a guttural roar of absolute agony, his back arching off the mud.
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” Leo cried out.
But he did not stop twisting.
He twisted until the strap dug hard into the muscle, and miraculously, the heavy bleeding slowed.
Leo secured the branch by tying the rest of the strap around Tommy’s leg to lock it in place.
For a moment, the only sound was the heavy, ragged breathing of the boy and the biker.
Tommy lay flat on his back, staring up at the rain falling through the pine canopy.
He slowly turned his head to look at Leo.
The kid was a mess, covered in mud, rain, and Tommy’s blood.
But Tommy noticed something else.
He saw the swelling on Leo’s jaw.
He saw the dark bruises under the dirt on the kid’s neck.
Those were not from the crash.
“Who did that to your face, kid?” Tommy rasped, his eyes narrowing.
Leo wiped his nose, leaving a streak across his cheek.
“Nobody. I fell.”
“Bull,” the biker whispered. “I know what a fist looks like. What’s your name?”
“Leo.”
“You’re a brave kid, Leo,” Tommy said, his eyelids drooping.
He reached up with a trembling, blood-stained hand and grabbed the collar of Leo’s jacket, pulling the boy an inch closer.
“You saved my life.”
“Stay awake, okay?” Leo said quickly. “I have to go to the road and flag someone down. Just stay awake.”
Before Leo could pull away, Tommy reached into his heavy leather vest.
He fumbled for a second, his fingers slipping, before pulling out a heavy tarnished silver ring.
It was shaped like a skull, missing one of its ruby eyes, completely coated in mud and blood.
Tommy shoved the ring into Leo’s trembling hand, closing the boy’s fingers over it.
“Keep that,” Tommy whispered, his voice barely a breath. “You ever need anything, you show that to my brothers. You tell them Iron sent you.”
Tommy’s eyes rolled back, and his massive head slumped into the mud.
He was unconscious.
Panic surged through Leo.
He scrambled up the steep, slippery embankment, bursting onto the asphalt of Highway 9 just as a set of headlights pierced the fog.
It was a local logging pickup.
Leo waved his bloody arms frantically in the middle of the road.
The truck slammed on its brakes, skidding to a halt.
The driver took one look at the blood-soaked kid and the smoking wreckage down the ravine, then reached for his CB radio to call 911.
Within ten minutes, the wail of sirens cut through the Oregon woods.
State troopers and an ambulance arrived in a chaotic swirl of flashing red and blue lights.
Paramedics rushed down the hill, descending on Tommy’s unconscious body.
A state trooper wrapped a shock blanket around Leo’s trembling shoulders and sat him on the tailgate of an ambulance.
The cop asked him questions.
What did the truck look like?
How long was the biker trapped?