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“You want us to help you get up?” Pony said. “Maybe let you borrow one of our bikes so you can get away?”
“You’ll do that for me?” Black Tooth said.
Pony said, “No.”
“Man,” Black Tooth whined, but the three outlaw bikers ignored him, straightening up to talk amongst themselves now that the failed bank robber seemed to be out of useful information.
“So what do we do?” Devil said. “If the cops are already there, it’s not like we can show up looking to do our thing.”
“Right,” Pony said.
“Hang on to this idiot?” Devil said. “Keep him for the cops?”
“No, man, don’t keep me for the cops,” Black Tooth said.
“We could just shoot you and leave you here,” Wyatt said.
“Maybe the cops, then, would be better,” Black Tooth said. “Man, why is everything against me?”
“It’s probably got something to do with you being a dipshit tweaker robbing banks in the middle of the day,” Wyatt said. “Pony, what do you think?”
“This definitely changes things,” Pony said. “If he’s telling the truth, there might be nobody at the cabin any more. His friends may have also made a break for it. If he did, they could have too, you know?”
Wyatt nodded toward the road. “Speaking of which…”
Coming toward them, from the same direction as the cabin, was another motorcycle. Another street racing bike, to be exact, the rider wearing a racing jacket and helmet.
It could hardly be coincidence. Pony took a step toward the road, squinting at the rapidly approaching motorcycle.
“I recognize that bike,” he said. “That jacket, that helmet too. That’s from the guys last night. One of the other bank robbers.”
“Looks like one of this asshole’s buddies decided to make a run for it, too,” Devil said, nudging Black Tooth with his foot.
The motorcycle was moving fast, throttling hard, but as it came closer, it suddenly began to slow down. Pony moved a little closer to the road, watching as the rider brought their motorcycle to a halt in the middle of the road a hundred yards away from the gas station where they stood.
The three of them watched as the motorcycle and its rider stayed perfectly still. The rider had clearly spotted Pony and company, that much was clear, and was trying to decide what to do next.
If the rider tried to punch past them, Pony planned to shoot out the tire just like he had with Black Tooth. Bag a second bad guy for the day. And if some of the buckshot happened to hit the rider, well, that was what you got for robbing banks like a dickhead in REMC territory.
It wasn’t going to come to that, though, Pony knew. And even as the rider of the motorcycle looked back the way they came, Pony glanced toward his Harley, mentally calculating how quickly he could climb on and start it up.
The air seemed to hang heavily and the sun beat down hard in those handful of moments, as the mystery motorcycle rider and three outlaw bikers stared each other down, none of them moving. Then, the throttle of the motorcycle revved, the tire squealed and smoked, and the rider spun the motorcycle around hard and sped off back the way they’d come.
“Let’s go,” Wyatt said, tapping Pony on the arm and heading for his motorcycle.
“Here,” Pony said, handing Devil the shotgun.
Devil took it, looked at it, and said, “Wait, what?”
“Stay with that guy until the cops come,” Pony said, pointing down at Black Tooth. “Flag them down and tell them who he is. But hide that shotgun first.”
“No, no, no, don’t leave me here with this guy waiting for the cops!” Devil said. “That’s the sidekick’s job!”
Pony said, “Exactly.”
“Oh, I see what you did there,” Devil said. “Now that you’re all patched in, I see what you did there. We’re going to talk about this later!”
Pony tried to hide his grin, already running to his Harley and kicking it to life with a roar of its heavy engine. He’d been waiting for a moment like that ever since he’d started to prospect at the MC and Devil had shortly thereafter begun a systematic process of driving him slowly nuts with frustration.
