Page 21 of Road Refugees

“Keep it,” said Navarro. “You might need it.”

The hero took the leash from my hand and led us away from the action. He seemed unperturbed by what had just happened, as though he was somehow used to it. He smiled at me crookedly while shoving his gun into his waistband, like the bikers did. “I’m Townshend,” he said. “Town for short.”

Town.

Town spelled life.

I gasped with relief. “I’m Heaven. Yes, that’s my name. I’m a Morbot.”

He chuckled. I noticed he limped a little. “A Morbot? Good for you. So you live up in Utah?”

It was kind of funny, the calm way we suddenly headed away from danger. The dog even pranced as a police car pulled up to the storefront behind us. Like in a procedural TV show, two cops leaped out, guns at the ready, but there was no one to shoot at. Everyone had dispersed. They pivoted around in frustration as onlookers fled.

“No,” I admitted. “I’m running from the compound. I’m going to Pure and Easy to find my brother, Sock Monkey. He works at a marijuana dispensary there.” I remembered Lytton Driving Hawk had said Sock Monkey would call my phone. I hadn’t heard it ring. Maybe Orchid hadn’t set it up properly, but at the moment I didn’t feel like checking. Town made me feel safe, and no other man had ever done that. Most men, in fact, had made me feel threatened, and I knew there was never anywhere to run.

I asked, “You’re not a Bare Boner? You don’t wear the cut.”

“No, I’m not,” he said, almost wistfully. “I’m just a former military Joe, going down to P and E to find my old brother in arms.”

I slid my hand into the crook of his elbow, old-timey style. Under the cuff of a plain white T-shirt, he’d had some ink drawn on his bicep. It appeared to be a WWII gal twined around a beribboned anchor, entitled “Stormy Loves.” I may have sashayed a bit, for the first time missing my Victorian hat with all the frills and bows. Town made me feel—dare I say it—feminine. That had never been a good thing before. “Then I’m not taking you out of your way.”

“Not at all.”

“But what about your doggie? What’s his name?”

“Linus. You’ll see.”

Town even bowed a little at an alley corner to let me know it was safe to venture in. When I peeked, what should be standing there but a muscular Harley with an adorable sidecar! A lamp high on the brick wall illuminated it as though it were the Batmobile, all gleaming chrome and liquid black.

I gasped. “Are you kidding? Linus rides in that?”

He jerked his crooked jaw. “I’ll show you. Linus, up.”

Removing his helmet from the sidecar, with a motion of his hand he had Linus leaping to obey. The dog jumped fluidly over the edge, sat himself on the seat, and waited for something.

“Oh!” I cried, when Town moved to belt Linus in.

He said, “During the day he wears goggles, because going seventy isn’t good for their eyes. Bugs and all. But at night, he couldn’t see with goggles, so I don’t. Dogs get stressed if they can’t see the scenery. That’s why they stick their faces out the window.”

“Is he a service dog? He doesn’t have a vest.”

Town came so close I was enveloped in his personal scent. Dried sweat, wind, pine trees, and something I couldn’t put my finger on. Was it . . . pain? I knew when I was in pain, I exuded a hormone that warned people off. Too bad it didn’t work for the insensate. Orson’s higher feelings would’ve made a great nail file.

“He’s a companion dog,” Town said in his intense, rich voice. “He helps me, but I help him too.”

I scissored my fingers through the tufts of silken curls on Linus’ head. “He’s adorable. I left my dog behind in Cornucopia. I love dogs.”

Town chuckled. “Well, that’s fortunate, because you’re going to be riding with mine. Here.” He handed me the helmet. I looked at it as though it was a cottonmouth snake, turning it around to find the fangs. He instantly sensed this and helped me out. “Your hair’s already up, so this is all you need to do . . . see?”

My voice echoed inside the contraption. “If only I could see.”

“That’s okay,” Town said, in that tone that made me feel safe. “We’ll get down to Bee and Sax’s place in Kachina Village. Let’s just pull a dustoff from Flag and get you into the safe zone.”

He stuffed my gigantic purse into the saddlebag. I spotted a walking cane in there. Then he showed me how to ride “one up,” sitting on the saddle behind him. There wasn’t a specific seat for a passenger, so when he straddled it, I had to wrap my thighs around his. He turned the key and the motor hummed like a vibrator. I’d had one of those once, but Orson tossed it when he discovered it.

We glided down the street away from the scene of so much tumult. In Town’s rearview mirror, the police car lights flashed like disco strobes, but they got smaller and smaller as we drove. Town had donned a brown leather jacket but not zipped it, so the heat from his taut chest warmed my hands.

I wondered if he’d be wanted for any murders inside that empty saloon. I remembered he’d come bursting out before the gunfire started—although he had someone else’s gun in his hand, now in his saddlebag. I felt dangerous, sharp, more alert than ever. I realized it was the excitement of the ride, being that close to Town, a mysterious dark stranger who seemed, for once, to be a good guy.

That, as they say, was the beginning of the rest of my life.

And Town meant life.