The last several blocks to the parking garage were an agonizingly slow crawl in the SUV, but no one complained. We were lucky the hearty fucker ran at all! The nondescript, tan sedan that was waiting for us was so clean and whole in comparison to the Yukon that it was almost off-putting. When I turned the key smooth early morning classical jazz started playing over the car's speakers. It felt like we stepped into a different world – one not filled with gunfights, blood and death. After loading up everything of value from the destroyed Yukon we left for the clubhouse. I didn't take as much precaution on the drive back as I would've wanted because we needed to get Buck to Mac. Blessedly the rest of the ride was uneventful. If there were more Russians out there we didn't see them.
Pulling up next to the tractor trailer I planned out the next steps. The worst of it was over, but that didn't mean we were done. Far from it. We all had a long night ahead of us. Mac taught me how to drive the rig in case he ever needed a rest so while he worked on Buck I'd grab Sarah, drive us generally westward for a few hours. It wouldn't matter where the fuck we went as long as it was far away from Maryland.
“You guys go ahead and get him inside,” Dreamer reclined the seat back. “I just need a few minutes.”
“We're good, bro. I'll come get you when we take off. ” I put a hand on his shoulder, then got out to help Yoga with Buck. Buck was barely conscious when we arrived and despite how strong Yoga was it still took both of us to safely get him inside.
“Mac!” I called out, opening the door to the trailer. It was strangely dark inside. He and Sarah must've been waiting in the cab of the truck while we were gone, but why hadn't they left the lights on? The parking lot's residual light flooding into the trailer through the open door was enough to get Buck safely inside. I climbed in first and dragged Buck along the floor enough to give Yoga the room to climb in afterwards. After we got Buck on the table I ran for the door but clipped my foot on something and tripped.
“Wreck, you alright?” Yoga asked, concern creeping into his voice, not just for my fall but at the unusual stillness and darkness of our home.
“I'm good, man. I just -” Groping along the walls I found the lights and clicked them on. Only then did I realize that what I had tripped on was a dead body.
19
Sarah
“You okay, girl? Need anything?” Mac asked as he busily fastened all the bikes to the floor or walls with ratchet straps and secured any other loose items for what might be a speedy getaway. His movements were slow and showed the consequences of a life lived hard but his deftness and efficiency still got the work done faster than someone half his age. It was only after he'd completed that he looked back and remembered I couldn't talk. I tried to sign a response to him but he waved me off and handed me a pad and pen. “I'm too old to learn any new tricks, but I can still read.”
I scribbled my question and handed it back to him. He took it, held it arms length struggling to make out the words. He touched his forehead, patted his pockets then cursed as he looked around the room. I pointed at a pair of reading glasses on the counter and Mac walked over and grabbed them.
“Never get old,” Mac grumbled, then started reading my note aloud to himself. “'What happens next?' Ah, hell.” Mac exhaled, pushed his glasses up on to his head then ran a hand over his face. I'd seen Wreck rub his face the same way and it was at that moment I saw how they were related. “Same thing always happens when a job goes tits up. Lick our wounds, find a new city and...well, shit, now that Dunk's gone I guess Dreamer will have to get things moving again.”
I frowned at the obvious pain on Mac's face from losing his friend. He hadn't cried that I saw since getting the news, but there was definitely a somberness in the way he moved that probably came from having lost many people in his life.
God, what a hard way to live. Was this what was in store for Wreck too?
I shook my head and tapped my chest with an index finger.
Mac exhaled and thought for a moment. He met my eyes briefly then turned away. Given what Dunk and him were talking about part of me expected he'd kick me out then and there. I hoped that wasn't the case but I let my focus drop to the floor and steeled my nerves for a hard answer all the same.
“I don't know. Dunk had a way of seeing things black and white. Us vs everyone else. We disagreed a lot but I respected the man and more often than not he was right'r than me.” Mac said. “This time though. He was dead wrong. You seem to matter a lot to my nephew. Haven't seen the poor bastard this happy in a long time.”
I looked up and found Mac holding my scarf out for me to take. He must have picked it up when I wasn't looking. With everything happening so fast I completely forgot I didn't have it. I immediately began to cover my neck with it. Showing myself to Wreck was one thing but the rest of the world...
“You don't need that around us. We all got our scars.” Mac pulled up the side of his shirt to reveal decades-old burn marks that covered most
