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"Are you Owen?" He says the second I approach.
I pause, wary. "I am. Who are you?"
"Moose."
"Where?" Smokey says, looking toward the forest. "Look out. Those things are fucking dangerous."
I don't blame him for being cautious — those animals are walking tanks with antlers and a nasty attitude.
"No, Owen, that's my name," the big man, Moose, says.
"I buy it," I say. "What do you want with me? How do you know my name?"
Gunshots ring out in the distance. Rapid-fire. Automatic. I start toward my bike. I don't have time to figure out why some giant of a man knows my name. The love of my life is in danger.
"Because Dani told me about you."
I stop. "She told you about me? How does she know you?"
As we talk, the rest of the group circles around us, though with each passing second, they cast glances toward the Vertucci compound. They can hear the gunfire. They know time is running out.
"I picked her up when she was hitchhiking. Then, well, I helped her get back in there... the place where those guys are firing all those guns. Feeling a little regret about that right now."
"How did you get my sister into the Vertucci compound?" Smokey demands.
"It's a long story. It all started when I was in Jacksonville. It was Spring Break, and I met this man with a glorious mustache..."
"OK, I can see where this is going," Smokey says.
"Really? You knew I would end up in New Orleans with a tattoo of the Hindenburg on my chest, wearing someone else's briefs, and with that man's shaved mustache in a baggie stuffed inside my underwear?"
"Man, I need to get your phone number, because we don't have time for your story right now — we have to break into that compound — but I need to know how you got there," Thunder says.
"Oh, I'll gladly give you my number, sexy," Moose says. "My number, and whatever else you want."
"Just your number, thanks, big guy," Thunder says, taking out his cellphone and trading digits with Moose.
"OK, I'll also give you guys a little advice: you guys ain't getting into the compound with just your bikes and guns. Their gate is reinforced and the guards are carrying HK-33's."
"Fucking hell, I don't give a shit. We have to try. My sister is in there," Smokey says. Already, he's heading to his bike, gun out, ready to ride to certain death. "I'll fucking scale their walls by hand if I have to."
Moose holds up a calming hand. Somehow, he gets Smokey to stop instantly. "But I might be able to help you."
"How?" Bullet says.
Moose taps the side of his semi. "Their gates and fences might be reinforced, but ain't no way they can stop me when I got my rig going at full speed. You guys ride behind me. Let me clear the way for you."
"You'd do that for us?" I say, feeling a confusing mix of shock and gratitude.
"If the handsome, surly one agrees to have a beer with me, yes." Moose points right at Rook.
"You're joking," Rook says.
"I'm dead serious."
"Will you tell me the end of the Jacksonville story?" Rook asks.
"I'll tell you anything you want, handsome," Moose says.
