“I don't feel brave at all,” Jewel sniffed. “I almost peed myself when those men were shooting at us.”
“Everyone gets shaken up in a firefight,” I said. “It's what's supposed to happen when your life's in danger. I've known hardened dudes who've filled their pants with shit in those kinds of scrapes. You'd have to be some kind of psycho or mannequin to stay totally calm in situations like that. But the difference is, most people would freeze up, or lose control and do something stupid. Not only did you do what you had to do to save yourself, you saved me, too. If you could do that, I know you can handle anything else that comes our way.”
Tears were still running down Jewel's cheeks, but her breathing was starting to return to normal. “You've saved me a lot more than I've saved you over the past few days.”
“Well, it's not a contest,” I chuckled.
“And I'm still counting on you to get us out of this,” she added.
I asked about what she'd found on Black's corpse, and she told me about the memory stick again. I nodded. I couldn't guarantee that it was what we were looking for, but it sounded promising.
“Can you bring me my phone?” I asked. “If we're gonna figure out what's on the stick and use it to take down Jester, we're gonna need some stuff, which means I need to make a quick call.”
Jewel went to the kitchen and came back with my burner. Then she took a bucket outside to get more water from the pump.
With my brain burning and my vision swimming, it took me a couple of tries to dial the number correctly. Finally, I got it and put the phone to my ear. Each ring felt like a nail being driven into my head.
Fuck, I thought. If I can't pull myself together soon, I'm gonna need her to do my shooting for me too, because right now I doubt I could hit a goddamn elephant if it was two feet in front of me.
Boomer picked up. “Devil's Nest. No, we don't have light beer.”
“Boomer, it's me,” I said thickly.
“Rafe?” he asked. “Is that you? You sound weird as fuck. Are you okay?”
“I'm quite a few miles away from okay, actually,” I said. It felt like just getting the phone to work had taken a lot out of me.
“Well, if you're calling about the info on those Thorn guys, I don't have any for you yet. Hey, were you involved in that thing up on I-94?” Boomer asked. “Because Jesus, from what I saw on the news, that looked like something out of fuckin' Call of Duty.”
“Yeah, that was us,” I answered. “Didn't leave us in such great shape, though. I'm a little shot up and our car crapped out on us. Is there any way you could bring us some new wheels and a first aid kit? And maybe a laptop or something that can read a memory stick?”
There was a pause on the line. When Boomer spoke again, he sounded very uneasy. “Look, Rafe, you know how much I want to see you finish this thing. And I've done everything I could for you so far, even though Bard was really clear about the rest of us staying clear of you while you're doing this. But I already had to make an excuse to Bard when I came up to get Rosie for you, and now you're asking me to bring you a car, which is a pretty tall order, y'know? I mean, what am I supposed to do, just grab one of the Reapers' spare rides from the garage? What am I supposed to tell the other guys?”
Boomer was right, and I knew it. He'd already gone above and beyond, and asking him for more wasn't fair. But after seven years in Potawatomi, all the friends I had left were Reapers, and Boomer was the only one who'd been willing to stick his neck out for me. What's more, I knew that in spite of his corny jokes and shit-kicking redneck attitude, Boomer was one of the smartest, toughest, and most capable members of the Reapers.
He was a good man, and I hated pushing him. But if I was going to do what I needed to, I knew I'd need to.
“Boomer, I am so close,” I said. I wasn't used to pleading with anyone, but goddamn it, this was bigger than my pride and I had no other choice. “You're right. You’ve already done way more for me than I deserve, and I owe you more than I'll ever be able to pay back. And if I had anyone else I could call, man, anyone at all on earth, I'd ask them for help instead and leave you out of it. But I promise, there's no one else. You're the only one who can help me see this thing through the way I have to.”
“Rafe...” Boomer started.
“No, just listen, okay?” I continued. “Please. I just want to say one more thing. If you tell me to go fuck myself and hang up the phone and never take another call from me again, I'll understand completely and there won't be any hard feelings. But I am begging you, man. I have never begged for anything from anyone in my fucking life, and right now I am begging you to please just do this one more thing for me. Please, Boomer. Just the car, a first aid kit, and something to see what's on this memory stick so I can use it against Jester. Please.”
There was another pause, followed by a sigh. “That memory stick had better have more on it than someone's fuckin' porn collection, dude.”
“Thank you,” I said. “Boomer, when this is all over...”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, you'll give me two dozen roses an' a rimjob, sure,” Boomer replied. “Just tell me where you are right now an' I'll see what I can do, okay? I can't promise anything, but I'll try.”
I told him about the farmhouse and how to get there, and he hung up. I knew he'd find a way to bring us what we needed.
But I didn't know what else he'd be bringing with him.
Chapter 29
Jewel
As I carried the bucket of cold water into the house, I heard the last part of Rafe's conversation with the man he called Boomer.
When Rafe said that he didn't have anyone else he could call for help, I felt a twinge of sadness mixed with understanding. I had never been big on socializing, and when it came down to it, I realized that I didn't really have any friends who were close enough for me to ask them for help when I was in serious trouble, either. It was strange to think that we had that in common. I had my parents, sure, but they were quiet and well-mannered Midwesterners and I knew they'd be at a loss if confronted with anything dangerous.
My poor parents, I thought. When Bertrand hired me, I'd written in my mother as my emergency contact on the employment forms. Now that I'd been missing from work for two days, I knew that Mom and Dad must have been going out of their minds with worry. For what must have been the thousandth time, I hoped this would all be over soon so they wouldn't have to be scared much longer.
I knew I should have been more frightened for my own well-being, especially now that I'd watched Rafe get beaten up and shot. For most people, I figured that seeing the tough biker who's supposed to protect them get seriously injured would be enough to make them lose all hope.
But strangely, deep in my core, I still felt like staying with him was the only way to make sure I'd be safe. Even though he had a head injury and a bullet wound, when I looked into his eyes, I still saw the kind of steel, intensity, and determination that made me believe it would take far more than that to put him down. I knew he'd see this through no matter what, and that he'd do whatever it took to make sure I survived in the process.
Maybe that kind of belief was foolish. Maybe I was ignoring this evidence of his vulnerability because I simply didn't want to accept it. Maybe Jester was just too powerful and Rafe would end up dying in a hail of bullets with me next to him.
There was something else, though. Even though I still believed Rafe would be the one to get us through this alive, I knew that he didn't have to do it alone anymore. I could drive. I could shoot. Instead of feeling like some damsel being dragged along by powers outside my control, I felt like Rafe and I were a team. That helped a lot.
I waited in the kitchen while Rafe finished his call, since I knew how hard it must be for him to beg his friend for help and I didn't want him to feel more embarrassed. Once he hung up, I dragged the bucket into the living room.
“Time to freshen up your bandages,” I said. “Did you get what you needed from your friend?”
“I hope so,” Rafe said. “Too soon to tell.”
I kneeled beside Rafe and carefully removed the strips of cloth from his arm. As I did, I felt him tremble a bit. At first, I thought he was in pain and trying to hide it from me, so I ignored it. Then I realized he was laughing.
“Did I miss something funny?” I asked, washing the cloth strips in the bucket and wringing the blood out of them. “Or is your head more injured than I thought?”
“No, it's just...” Rafe laughed out loud this time. “You must think I'm a real asshole, right? All that hard-ass, chest-thumping bullshit I laid on you in the car earlier. 'Oh, I survived prison and knives and guns and, like, a zillion assassination attempts, and I don't have a mark on me and I never will!'
“I was really begging for this shit, wasn't I? Christ, I'm surprised an anvil didn't drop out of the sky and onto my head just to make a point.” Even though he was laughing, I could hear the bitterness in his voice.
“Don't be so hard on yourself,” I said. I wrapped the newly-soaked bandages over his bullet wound carefully, making sure they weren't too tight. “You were just trying to get my head in the game with that stuff. It was what I needed to hear. And besides, if you'd actually managed to go this long without getting hurt at all, I'd have to start wondering if you were some kind of robot or superhero or something.”