Without his bike, he wasn’t going to make it very far, but changing out the ignition coil was a quick job. He made his way down the driveway to the road. When he arrived at his bike, he stared at the dead body of the guard and shook his head. Then he disengaged the kickstand and pushed his bike back up the hill.
Jon took it up to the end of the driveway, stopping between the burning cabin and the remains of the shed. As long as the cabin burned, he’d have about all the light he needed to repair his bike. But he wouldn’t need that long. The cabin would burn for at least another hour, probably much longer.
He went to the shed and simply walked in at the corner, the door no longer needed. In more light, he could assess the damage and discover if anything inside was salvageable. For now, all he needed were his tools.
Jon found his metal toolbox lying underneath a pile of debris on the ground inside of the shed. He removed it and set it down next to his bike. As he worked on making the repair, Jon thought of Carrie and Spencer. Carrying the fear in his mind of forgetting their faces, he remembered the day that picture had been taken on the beach. The thoughts distracted him and kept his hands moving as he worked in the reflected light of the ever-growing flames.
After getting the old ignition coil off, Jon took a moment to stare at the moon. Carrie had loved astrology, often reading books and listening to podcasts on the subject in her downtime. She’d teased him sometimes when he’d acted in specific ways, saying things like, “You’re such a Cancer,” even though he didn’t know what the hell that meant. But he knew the moon was essential to astrologists, and Carrie had paid close attention to its different phases and even worn a moon necklace from time to time. The moon now stood as a reminder of her. And when it sat big and full in the sky, Jon knew she was looking down on him.
Getting back to the work before him, his mind wandered to less pleasant places. He set the new ignition coil in place while thinking of the man who’d destroyed the photo and lit the cabin ablaze. Jon had barely gotten a look at the man, making him wonder how he would find him. All he knew was that the fit man was bald and had a goatee. It would be difficult to find him, but the goal gave Jon a new purpose. He’d vowed to find the man and kill him, and the only thing that would stop his pursuit would be if he stopped breathing.
With the new coil in place, Jon swung his leg over the saddle and readied to start the bike.
“Here goes nothing.”
The engine roared to life, and he revved it a few times. For the first time that evening, he smiled. Fixing the bike had been like mending a dear friend. More than that, really. The bike had become an extension of him. Losing it would be almost like losing one of his arms.
Not wanting to make more noise, he shut the bike off and began gathering his things. He could only take a single bag with him and the weapons, so he’d have to come back later for other things, like his tools. He decided that he’d more than likely come back the next morning. The fire would be out by then, and he could move his shit to his new place before the asshole came back, or before some other raiders happened upon the cabin.
As he gathered his things, Jon heard a noise. It had come from the edge of the driveway, so he drew his gun, hiding behind his bike and keeping the pistol fixed toward the road.
A light flashed three times, and Jon firmed his grip on the pistol.
“Don’t shoot,” a male voice said. “If you’re armed, please hold your fire.”
Jon remained quiet, his gun still aimed down the driveway.
“We’re from a nearby camp,” the man said. “We come here in peace. We’re going to leave our weapons here at the end of the driveway to prove that to you, but we’re coming up.”
Jon kept his sights on the end of the driveway as three figures walked up. Jon stayed in position, ready to fire if he had to.
“Don’t take another step!” Jon called, giving the seemingly innocent intruders a chance while also giving up his position.
“Hold on, guys,” a female voice said.
Jon furrowed his brow. The woman’s voice sounded familiar.
She stepped forward, and Jon kept his gun aimed, but held a looser grip on it now. The woman raised her hands as she stepped into the glow of the fire.
Jon lowered the gun, staring at Brooke’s familiar face.
“Good to see you again.”
18
Jon returned the gun to its holster as Brooke stared at the house, her mouth open. Behind her stood two other men, including Terrence.
“What are you doing here?” Jon asked.
“We happened to be in the area and saw the smoke. My God, are you alright?” she asked.
“I’m a hell of a lot better than them.”
Jon glanced down at the body near his bike and Brooke followed his gaze. He’d thrown a blanket over it, the body being disfigured by the grenade blast, but Brooke had seen the other bodies on her way up the driveway.
“These men are from the camp I told you about. The people who’ve been coming to Hope’s Dawn and bullying us around.”
“Do you know where this camp is?”
Brooke shrugged. “Of course.”
“Tell
