Never needed one. You need one now. Clutch nodded to another biker who reached into his saddlebag and pulled out a small black case. He handed it to Caleb who opened it to find a compact 9 mm pistol and two boxes of ammunition. I don't know how to use one safely.
Clutch said, that's all you need to know for now. Clutch's voice was firm. Keep it close. If Dalton shows up before we can get the feds involved, you defend yourself. Understand?
Caleb stared at the gun like it was a live snake. This isn't my world. Welcome to the deep end, kid. Clutch clapped him on the shoulder, the impact nearly buckling Caleb's knees. You did good today.
Saved a good man's life. Now we're going to make sure that means something.
Razor finished scanning and handed the leather roll back. All done. Crystal clear copies. Good. Clutch took the originals and handed them back to Caleb.
Hide these. Somewhere Dalton would never think to look. We got copies going out tonight to six different federal agencies, but you keep the originals safe. Just in case. In case of what?
In case we all end up dead, Clutch said matter-of-factly. Then you take them to the media. Every news station, every newspaper. You make sure the world knows what Dalton did. The weight of it settled on Caleb's shoulders like a physical thing.
Why me? Why not keep them yourself? Because you're nobody, Clutch said not unkindly. No offense, but you're a 19-year-old mechanic in a nothing town. Nobody's watching you.
Nobody expects you to be important. That makes you the perfect dead drop. He paused. Also, Arthur trusts you. And if Arthur trusts you, that's good enough for me.
The bike started up again a wave of rumbling thunder. Clutch swung his leg over his Harley, then looked back at Caleb one more time. Few days, he said, and this will all be over in a few days. Stay alive until then. And if Dalton comes tonight Clutch's smile was cold.
Then you use that gun and you call this number. He handed Caleb a card with nothing but a phone number written on it. We'll be there in 20 minutes. Maybe 15 if we ride hard. 20 minutes is a long time when someone's trying to kill you.
Then don't let them. Clutch kicked his bike into gear. And Caleb, welcome to the family. Whether you wanted it or not.
The bikes pulled out in formation, their tail lights disappearing down the highway like red eyes fading into the night. Caleb stood in his doorway holding a leather roll full of secrets in one hand and a gun in the other and wondered what the hell he'd gotten himself into. Inside his trailer, he stared at the evidence for a long time before finally hiding it in the one place he figured Dalton would never look inside the false bottom of his toolbox wrapped in oil-stained rags and tucked beneath his socket set. The gun went under his pillow. Sleep didn't come.
Every sound was a threat, the wind against the siding, a car passing on the distant highway, Vernon's shop door creaking in the breeze. Caleb lay in the darkness, his hand curled around the grip of the 9 mm, and waited for morning. It came eventually, pale light filtering through his dingy curtains. Caleb dragged himself out of bed and splashed water on his face trying to wash away the grit of sleeplessness and fear. Vernon was waiting outside leaning against his truck with his arms crossed.