Without a second of hesitation, Toby dashed out onto the wet driveway, the rain soaking his grey shirt instantly as hailstones stung his shoulders. He waved both arms wildly over his head, screaming at the top of his lungs against the roar of the wind.
"Get in! All of you! Get inside!"
The lead biker—a broad, imposing man with a scarred jawline and a rain-slicked helmet—spotted the frantic boy. He raised an armored gloved hand, signaling the pack behind him.
"Your bikes are getting destroyed!" Toby yelled, pointing forcefully into his spacious, high-ceilinged garage. "Turn around! Left wall, forty-five degrees! Park tight!"
The leader didn’t hesitate. He swung his heavy cruiser across the driveway and rolled smoothly up the slope into the dry garage bay. The other seven riders followed in flawless sequence, their rumbling exhausts echoing thunderously beneath the tin roof.