Rota never stopped running. She half-hurled one of the women down the ladder, and dropped her little girl into her arms. The woman turned and ran. The women needed no more encouragement. One went down the ladder, and another handed down the children and babies. Rota ran around them, gun in one hand, knife in the other. Skuld elbowed her pocket, and Rota took the special gun.

Skuld handed down Rina, and Herja handed down Donna. Rota fired once, with hissing from the discharge of the stun gun. She fired again. Herja leaped into the hole. Skuld grabbed her wife’s belt and hauled her backward toward the tunnel, then dropped her into the hole. She held out her arms and landed halfway down the ladder. Skuld closed the trap door, fired through it twice; the noise was becoming deafening in the small space. Skuld dropped the rest of the way, and ran like the wind down the tunnel.

They ran out into the soft dark, then all hell broke loose behind them. There was the whistle of a missile, and a red tracer went up, followed by a second whistle and the concussion of something exploding. Herja led the way toward their bikes. They swung around and followed the van out, picking up women and adding them to the bikes on the way. They were two short, until a man on a huge Harley Fat Boy came riding up. He held out his hand, and a woman with corkscrew red hair and terrified eyes took it. She got on, and the other woman who was weeping in the dark was soon picked up by another bike ridden by a Valkyrie, in a studded, leather, well-fitted vest. Rota took point, Herja took the rear, and Skuld got on the right to cover their blind spot.

The “shock and awe” portion of the invasion of the compound continued. No one followed them, although they kicked up dust in a long rooster tail. The faces of women and children were pressed to the glass, looking behind them. They turned, and got on the desert road to the highway, leaving behind fire which was now leaping into the sky, and black smoke which billowed with gusto. Fire trucks and ambulances passed them as they made the turn onto the highway.

Wraith spoke in Rota’s ear. “He’s alive. He was given an animal tranquilizer. They’re giving him the antidote now.” Rota held up the alive signal with her thumb and forefingers, her finger and thumb remaining apart, just a little. She got fist pumps all over from those who knew about Saber. “The dogs are with a vet; they’ll be fine. The awake ones are eating like pigs.”

Rota nearly bent over double (with relief) over her handlebars. “Mine,” she said.

“Sigrun may fight you on that,” said Wraith. “Exfil.” Rota’s head snapped up. “You’ll take the little highway you’re on for ten more minutes, and then get off. I’m going to take you on a merry chase to a safehouse. Plenty of room and beds. They’ll be moved in the morning. Stay put, go out and get food and drink, clothes, toys, and backpacks for the families. Guard until the second wave gets there in the wee hours of the morning. They’ll be split up for their safety, then reunited over the state line.”

“Got it,” said Rota into her helmet mic. “You lead, I’ll follow.”

They made it to the safehouse. The bikers dropped off their weeping, terrified women, and took off into the night. Rota gave them tissues from her pocket, and herded them toward the brightly lit farmhouse.

The door opened. “I’m Ida,” she said. “Get in.”

Rota ran to help unload the van, so stuffed that people were sitting on each other’s laps and the floor. Babies cried. Rota carried some children, herded others. The smell of coffee came from the farmhouse.

“Cal will get the barn set up. Some of you can sleep in the hayloft,” Ida said. “We’ve got blankets and sleeping bags, and two cribs, and more. Our kids are on a hiking trip in the mountains.”

Cal was in the kitchen, frying eggs. Toast popped out of the toaster, making the terrified people jump. “Be alright,” said Cal. “Need me a helper. Anyone know how to fry up bacon and sausage?” The crying woman with the corkscrew hair stepped forward. She wiped her tears, washed her hands, and took out a skillet.

“We’ll drop the injured at the hospital, and be back with supplies,” said Rota. “Herja will guard the door.”

Herja smiled ferally. “No one will harm you.”

Rota checked on sizes, and Rota, Herja, and Skuld left them to their hasty meal and confusion about where everyone would sleep. The wounded women were bleeding, but not severely injured. Wraith and Rota went to an all-night drugstore over the county line, filled up on pressure bandages, a sewing kit, gauze, tape, and two slings. Wraith drove Rota back, and Herja went to work with the supplies with Ida as her nurse.

They took the van, and found an all-night Wal-Mart in the middle of nowhere. They loaded up carts with baby onesies, diapers, formula, and bottles for the five infants, plus infant carriers and car seats. They bought children’s clothes, from underwear to shorts and shirts to socks, shoes, and sandals. They paid for the children’s things and hauled it all out to the van, then went back in for jeans, tops, underwear, and bras for the women. They found some sleeping bags, and backpacks, diaper bags, and duffel bags for everything. They found milk, juice, fruit, snacks, and breakfast food for everyone. They bought the clothes and food, filled up the van to the point where the driver, Rota, was the only one with space for her feet, and rode out. They parked, and Cal rushed out to help them unload.

“God in heaven,” he said. “You ladies must be rich.”

“We don’t let refugees go without what they need,” said Herja, grabbing bags of clothes. “They had to leave every damn thing behind, and may be separated from their loved ones for months. No use making things harder than they’re going to be anyway.”

“Some cult, from how the women are talking. Kind of coded-like,” said Cal.

“Kind of,” said Herja. “And we pay you to… forget.”

“In the morning, my mind will go all hazy,” said Cal. Herja slipped him some cash. “Very hazy,” he added.

The escapees sat on the floor in piles, and took turns going to the bathroom. They took the sleeping bags and arranged themselves in family pods on the floor. Cal had a line of women without kids follow him to the barn; Skuld handed out the sleeping bags to them. Women came out to unpack the things from the van, distribute the clothes, put the food away, and fill up their new bags and packs. Rota and Skuld double-checked on the injured, and pronounced them well enough, not needing a trip to the hospital. The farmhouse was filled to the rafters from refugees, who suffered from shock and awe. The government had attacked early, and the Iron Knights had scattered back into the night.

“Leave the van,” said Wraith into Rota’s ear. Rota went in and left the key with one of the women. Rota went back out. “Guard the house for a few hours,” said Wraith.

“Update on Saber?” asked Rota.

“Touch and go,” said Wraith. Sigrun hung her head, struggling to breathe, and listened as Wraith gave the update and instructions to the other women. Skuld hugged her, and all three women held the back of each other’s necks and said, “With your shield, or on it.” They separated. Sigrun held the house, Rota the barn, and Skuld rotated around the perimeter. They rotated positions every two hours.

Each Valkyrie, when inside the house, spoke to the frightened women, soothed terrified children, and explained that they would not be prosecuted, would not have to testify, and would be separated only until all the court things were adjudicated. Each woman had to explain it again to some terrified mother. They were furious and scared, right down to their toes.

One woman named Ruby tried to fight with Skuld about why they were there. “Leave,” said Skuld. “We walked you out of a situation with grenades thrown around when the government got there. Go if you want. We’re not the police. We’re just people trying to keep you all alive. Did you want to be in a firefight, standing behind some door, and you die? Your kid dies?”

Ruby had the grace to look chagrined. “No,” she said.

“Then choose. This way, you all stay together, wherever the hell you end up.” She held up her hand. “I have no idea where that is, and I don’t want to know.” Skuld narrowed her eyes. “Staying or leaving?” asked Skuld.

“Staying,” said Ruby.

“Then get some damn sleep,” said Skuld. “Our sisters will need you come morning.” The woman’s eyes narrowed as well, and then she nodded, she went back to her sleeping bag.

They passed the long night with hourly updates about Saber’s condition. He held on, as they did with their patrols. Sigrun was frantic, but she held her ground. Her sisters were too, and she couldn’t falter, for their sake, and the sake of the terrified women.

Skuld heard bits and pieces about the raid from Sokn. The FBI had the men in hand, and the boys were being taken separately to a secure facility. Sokn worked to pry away the youngest ones, the preteens and early teens, and keep them out of the clutches of Child and Family Services. Sokn slipped them out the back way, and “reappropriated” them into a van driven by two Valkyries. Sokn kept track of the tidbits about the raid the FBI and ATF let fall from their lips, and checked on Saber through Wraith, and sent coded updates to Herja, Skuld, and Rota.

The second van with the misappropriated “tweens” and teens showed up about an hour before dawn. The women were delighted to get their children back, and they sat down in shifts for a huge farmer’s breakfast of ham, egg, bacon, cheese, and mushroom. It was accentuated with omelets, fruit, and orange juice which four of the women helped to cook.

Sokn drove, with a second Valkyrie following with another empty van. “ATF took the compound,” reported Sokn, as they spoke outside before going into eat, out of earshot of the women. “They tried to set it on fire, but Sigrun told them about the tunnels, and they ran in and took them down. They got Ruden Wang trying to escape down the tunnel.” Skuld and Rota pumped their fists at the news.

Sokn continued with her more detailed report. “The young men were all captured, and will be released soon. The men face some charges; most of them didn’t fire at the ATF people, and will mostly face charges of harboring a criminal. Frost, their main man, didn’t tell his charges who Ruden was, only his inner circle. Two of his inner circle is dead; Frost will be tried for shooting an ATF agent in the chest during the raid, and for ordering Saber’s drugging. The ATF agent was wearing armor; she’ll be fine.” Sokn sighed. “I need to know if the women or children were abused, but that can be done when they feel safe.”

“They’ll be glad about getting their male teens back,” said Rota. “I’ll tell them…”

“No,” said Sokn. “We vanish now. We’ve got Iron Knights and Valkyries to protect them. If we don’t know where they are…”

“We can’t tell,” said Rota. “Understood.” They left the vans, got on their bikes, and had their own farmer’s breakfast at a waffle house.

Sigrun ate mechanically, knowing the hospital food would be much worse. They grabbed each other behind the neck and said, “With your shield, or on it,” before separating. The other women went to get some sleep, and Sigrun followed the sound of Wraith’s voice to see Saber. Wraith’s voice was strong, empty of emotion, her exhaustion evident. On her way to the hospital, Sigrun stopped off and got sodas and breakfast sandwiches, knowing Wraith needed sustenance.

The number of wires and tubes coming out of Saber’s body were impressive. He had a tube down his throat, and the machine was breathing for him.

“They pumped his stomach and gave him meds to help him breathe. Heart rate’s slow,” said Wraith. “Skips a beat sometimes. They’re considering a pacemaker, which will totally destroy his career. They’re watching.” Sigrun hugged her, then went in and held his hand.

Rota and Skuld came up. They had grabbed a few hours of sleep. Rota touched Wraith’s back. “We’re watching with you.”

Wraith wiped her eyes. Rota gave her report. “The women and children left a few minutes ago after a huge breakfast. The van with the teens is with them; the reunion was a little heartbreaking. They’ll meet up at a truck stop when they eat lunch. They’ll end up in New Mexico, from what I can put together.”

Wraith took a shuddering breath, unable to look away from Sigrun who was sitting with Saber. “They need to stay away from kin for a while. ATF will be hunting for them, as will the FBI. Once the trials start, it will blow over. Rugen will be in a deep, dark hole within the hour.” The “deep, dark hole” she referred to was a federal Supermax prison. “They’ll take down his entire network.”

“Good,” said Rota. “We’re getting breakfast. Skuld will watch. You’re coming with us. Then, Skuld and Sigrun will do the same.”

Wraith narrowed her eyes at Skuld. “I’m running this op.”

“Op’s over,” said Skuld. “Stand down. Take care of your damn self so you can take care of your love.”

“You gonna tell him he’s a dad?” asked Rota.

Wraith barked out a watery laugh. “Sigrun wants to make it a surprise, provided he doesn’t need a pacemaker.”

Herja laughed. “That’s one hell of a surprise for a person recovering from ketamine poisoning.” She grimaced. “Why?”

“I assume; to keep him quiet till morning. But, these are shitkicking racist thugs, not doctors, so they gave him too high of a dose,” said Wraith. She grinned. “The guy who dosed him has a broken arm and two broken ribs. He’s got charges, lots of them.”

“He’s not getting out for a while,” said Rota. “But you are. We’re leaving the hospital and getting waffles.”

“Waffles,” said Wraith. “Why the hell not?”

They took turns with the pecan waffles, the bacon, and the orange juice at a little local placed called The Big Bite. They switched out, and Wraith sat with Saber and Sigrun went to eat with Skuld.

By the time Sigrun and Skuld came back, Rota smiled as the doctor poked and prodded. “No more skipped beats. No more trouble breathing... and he’s coming around.”

They watched as Saber woke up and began pulling out his own tubes. The doctor and Wraith calmed him, and they had him cough out his breathing tube. Saber ignored the doctors and stared into Wraith’s eyes as the doctors pulled out more tubes and removed some machines. Sigrun jumped up and down as if she’d won a lottery, then she ran into the room.

Rota and Skuld watched the reunion, and then turned away. “I’m getting a hotel room with double beds,” said Herja. “We’ll nap, come back, and help get Saber home.”

“I love you,” said Rota. “I will sleep for a week.” They trudged their way out of intensive care, mounted their bikes, and rode back to the hotel to sleep.

Recovery

Sigrun grinned down at Saber. “You feel up to it?” she asked.

“What?” said Saber. He put on his shirt in a super-slow way.

“Home,” said Sigrun.

“What’s exciting there?” asked Saber. “I find my recliner. I sleep. I relax.”

“New dog,” said Wraith.

“Wait. New canine? What kind? Does the dog get along with Roxie?”

“Brown and white mix of… something. Small. And Roxie chases Rimmel, and Rimmel chases Roxie. Roxie gets on her cat tree, and laughs at Rimmel, who goes to sleep on his dog bed under the cat tree,” said Sigrun.

He got his new jeans on slowly, then his socks. Sigrun helped him slip on low boots. Saber sat in the proffered wheelchair.

“We have a dog,” said Saber. “Who the hell names a dog Rimmel?”

“A cancer victim,” said Sigrun, rolling him out. An orderly came by to do the pushing, but Sigrun growled a little and he backed off. “Died. We got the dog.”

“That’s horrible,” said Saber. “I’m sorry.”

“Didn’t know her, found her dead. Took the dog. Long story.”

Sigrun got on her bike, and Wraith helped Saber get on behind her. Wraith lashed Saber to Sigrun by hooking his jean loop into a carabiner, and hooking him to Sigrun’s jean loop in the back. Wraith did the same on the other side. She gave him a battered leather jacket she’d gotten from a used clothing store, and he put it on. Herja had already gone home. Wraith led the way, then Sigrun followed, Saber warm against her back.

They made good time, even after stopping for barbecued pork sandwiches and fries at a barbecue joint. They rode up to the house. “Wait,” said Saber, as Wraith parked. Wraith went over to unhook him from Sigrun. “Whose house is this?”

“Ours,” said Sigrun. “Wraith got a bonus.” She got off, and helped Saber off. He stood and stretched.

Warren came flying out of the house. “Dad’s home!” he shouted to the neighborhood. He barreled into Saber’s legs. Sigrun held him up, and they both embraced the small boy.

“Warren,” said Sigrun. “Be careful with Daddy. He just got out of the hospital.”

“’Kay,” said Warren. “Glad you’re home, Dad.”

Saber ruffled the boy’s black hair. “Hey.”

“We look alike!” said Warren. “Same eyes.”

“Yes,” said Saber. He looked down into brown eyes that were swimming with intelligence. “You’re super-smart, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Gotta gold belt in karate. Mama is showing me the Yang Short Form in tai chi.”

“Cool,” said Saber.

A girl came out, her hair braided on the side in Valkyrie style, her brown hair streaked blonde by the sun. “I’m Sondra,” she said, as the dog streaked past him and attacked the boy’s legs. Warren turned around, knelt, and let himself be smothered by dog kisses. Saber knelt and let the dog sniff the back of his hands. Sondra closed the door. “Oops. Can’t let the cat out.”

Saber held out his arms, and Sondra snuggled in. “I’m so glad you’re home,” she said. “Come in. Sorry, but Dina is having a slow day. Her bones hurt. The doctor says she can get the surgery on her hip done next week.” She looked up at Saber, tears in her eyes. “You gotta be careful with the bones. We’ve been pumping her up with calcium, but we’re extra-careful.”

“That’s why I play with Rimmel outside, or in another room,” said Warren. “Soon, she’ll be better. After surgery.”

They headed toward the house. Sigrun grinned. “Sorry, but that joy was the best thing I’ve ever seen. The cannonball of Warren.”

“She made me be quiet, not tell,” said Wraith. “I agree. I’ve never seen you this happy.” Saber threw his arms over his wives’ shoulders, and they walked in.

Dina was setting the table. Kat was lovely in a yellow dress, hair pulled back. “Gorgeous as always,” said Sigrun. “Thank you so much, Kat.”

“Kat’s gonna have surgery the same time as me,” said Dina. “Hi, Dad.” Saber gently hugged her. Her red hair was in the side braids of the Valkyries. Her eyes were green, and slightly tilted, giving her an elfin appearance. Her mouth was pursed slightly in pain.

“I’m so sorry you’re hurting, honey,” said Saber, gently. He stroked her hair. “Sit down, love.” He sat down, and she did too.

“Glad to hear you’re finally getting snipped,” said Wraith. Sigrun choked. Saber grimaced.

Kat laughed, a light, trilling one. “I am,” she said. “I’ll be a whole girl.”

“You been fattening up my daughter?” asked Saber. “Actually, they all look kinda… pinched.”

“We’re having fried chicken, biscuits, corn on the cob, and a caramel chocolate pie for dessert,” said Kat, grinning. “I know you probably ate on the road…”

“Hospital food,” said Saber, reaching out to stroke Sondra’s hair as well, his hand hesitant, gentle. He didn’t know her past, and was careful with his movements around the girls.

“The worst,” said Kat. “Well then, some meat on your bones, too.” She turned, and took the biscuits out of the oven.

Warren chased the dog, which chased the cat. Dina showed Saber her math problems. She’d been slowly catching up on what she’d missed when she hadn’t been on proper pain medication and acupuncture.

She showed Saber the tiny holes in her ears. “They don’t hurt, and sometimes the pain stops for a whole hour,” she said.

“I may need some of that,” said Saber.

“Warren, go outside,” said Sigrun. “I’ll get the orange ball for the dog.” They went into the courtyard, and Saber turned around to watch Sigrun go out for a long pass, and the dog streak after the ball, Warren laughing in the sunlight.

“I have a family,” said Saber, dazed.

“That you do,” said Kat. “Sondra, dear, can you get the honey butter out of the fridge and put it on the table, please?”

“Honey butter,” groaned Saber. “Kat, would you like a job?”

Kat laughed. “I was hoping you would say that. I love these little devils, and my own Sarah loves it here. I can be your cooking, cleaning goddess. Take the kids to their appointments; keep them on track with their homework.”

“I love you,” said Sigrun. She turned to Wraith. “Can we…”

“New clients,” said Wraith. “I need another bonus, but I know of some… meetings that need… protection. Yeah, I can get it done.”

Kat grinned. “No rush. I’ll be out for about six weeks to two months. I can be here all this week and half of next, though.” Wraith went in the other room to make notes for herself.

Sarah came in the room, all gangly knees and elbows. “Mom, you’ll make me rotund.” She rolled the word around in her mouth.

Kat shook a pair of tongs and snapped them at her daughter. “Dina needs us. She needs, I deliver.”

Sarah grinned. “We deliver.” She turned. “Hey, Saber. Dad says you were on some super-secret job, and ended up in the hospital, but you’ll be fine.”

“Where’s your dad?” asked Wraith, as she came out of the back room. She opened the window. “Get in here and wash your hands!” she said to Sigrun and Warren. “All of you, same thing.” They all went to the bathroom and washed up. Jaime, Sarah’s dad, came in, kissed Kat, and washed up in the sink. They sat down, and Sigrun sang a song to Odin. Then, they ate like pigs.

After dinner, Saber sat on his recliner and watched while Sigrun, Wraith, Kat, and Jaime made sure everyone’s schoolwork was done. Dina especially had a lot of catching up to do, since pain tends to ruin concentration. They finished off everything, and the work went back in bookbags on hooks by the door, except for Sarah’s, which went directly in front of the door. Then, they had milk and caramel chocolate pie.

Then, Game Night ensued. Warren and Saber played Uno, and the rest of them played Monopoly and Splendor, and traded players back and forth. Dina came over for Uno, and lay back. She was obviously sore, and put heat packs on. Warren went over to play Trouble with Kat and Sigrun, and Wraith put blankets over Saber and Dina while they went to sleep.

Jaime, Kat, and Sarah kissed everyone, and went home. Sigrun got Warren into the bath, and read the first book of Eddings’ Belgariad to him. Wraith got first Dina, then Saber, to bed. She went to read to Sondra, who loved John Green’s The Fault in Our Stars.

Both women slipped into the bed with Saber. He opened one eye. “They’re amazing,” said Saber. “They’re…” He began to cry, silently. Sigrun wrapped her arms and legs around him from behind, and Wraith gave him tissues and stroked his face. “I could have… not been here,” he said, once his tears ran out. “And this house is huge! Where the hell is the bathroom?”

Sigrun let go of his neck long enough to point. “Got a bathtub big enough for all three of us,” said Sigrun.

“Why the house?” asked Saber. “Wait, dumb question. Too many kids, not enough space.”

“Sleep, love,” said Sigrun. “We’re here, our kids are…”

Warren poked his head in the room. “Mama, I need some water.”

Wraith kissed Saber, got up, and hugged the little boy. “Of course, love,” she said, and took his hand. “Do you want me to look under your bed?”

“Yes,” said Warren. “I can fight monsters with my sword, but it’s better if they’re not there.”

Saber looked up at Sigrun. “He’s afraid of monsters under the bed?” asked Saber.

Sigrun unwrapped herself from Saber, rolled over him, and looked into his eyes. “Yes,” she said. “He has a plastic sword. I’m showing him thrust, parry, and riposte.”

“Of course you are,” said Saber.

“Sleep, love,” said Sigrun.

“Can we afford Kat?” asked Saber.

“Wraith will figure it out,” said Sigrun. “I’m taking so many classes to get my degree, and I’m at the print shop all the time. Alo’s bought another printer for some hydroponics project of his, and we can run it when he isn’t. I’m getting closer to a 3D printed blade leg. The new one has some meshy stuff that fills out the pants when you’re wearing jeans. The Soldier Pack love the design. I think I can print to the US military specifications, get them out to soldiers, for a tiny fraction of the current cost. Make just enough of a profit to keep the artificial hands and arms for kids going. The Soldier Pack says that once we have it, people will order the blades super-fast, because it’s cheaper than the deductible on their insurance.”

“Busy beaver,” said Saber, his voice low and rough from a lack of sleep. The nurses had kept waking him up all night at the hospital.

“And Wraith is always with a headset on an op. We’ve got all three kids at the Nighthawks’ school. Sarah’s at her old school, with lots of friends there. They all do homework on the kitchen table. Kat keeps us fed, and Dina’s weight is going up very well.”

“Good,” said Saber.

“Sleep,” said Sigrun. She sang him a little song, pulled him into her arms, and he slid into sleep.

Wraith came in, and held Sigrun. “Made it back,” she said. She suddenly sat up in bed. “The dogs!”

Sigrun waved her hand. “They’ll be adopted. Skuld and Rota will get one. The really big one was undernourished and, it turns out, trained as a K-9 dog, so he went to the police. The guy who adopted him, Roger, is an Iron Knight. He’d just lost his dog due to cancer, and was delighted to get a fully-trained dog. They’ve bonded.”

“And the other one?” asked Wraith.

“She’s been tested as being good with children, cats, and dogs, and she’s…”

The doorbell rang. “I’ll get it,” said Sigrun, gently shoving Saber off of her. Wraith took over, and Sigrun opened the door. The first German shepherd dog, the one that had kept by her the whole way, ran into her arms, and kissed her face.

“Her name is Asia,” said her handler, an Iron Knight named Stone, a man the size of a small boulder. He slipped a huge backpack off his shoulder. “Toys, food, bedding, harness. She’s super-intelligent. She eats like a small horse.”

“Good,” said Sigrun. “You bring her with a sidecar?”

“Yes,” he said. “Not for sale,” he added, referring to the sidecar for his Harley. He grinned. “She loves it.”

“Wonderful,” said Sigrun. “I’ll get the Soldier Pack to get one for me.”

“Bonnie has an extra,” said Stone. “I checked.”

“You rock,” said Sigrun. She stood up and hugged Stone. “Safe roads.”

“Wild stars,” said Stone. He turned and left. She shut the door behind him.

Rimmel was nervous. The sniffing happened while Sigrun unloaded the pack. She dragged the food into the kitchen, and gave Asia food and water, well apart from the other animals. She then walked back to the bedroom.

“This is Asia,” she said. “She’s lovely.” Wraith held her hand out for a sniff, and Asia kissed her hand.

Rimmel ran back to Sondra’s room. Sigrun laid the dog bed out at the foot of the bed. She knew it wouldn’t last. Sigrun put the dog’s toys in there, and climbed into bed on the other side of Saber. She laughed as the dog stretched out at their feet. Wraith giggled as Asia kissed her feet, and then they all slipped into sleep.

Sigrun took the morning, all alarms going off and wet dog noses shoved everywhere. She got the kids out of bed, fed, and into Henry’s van. The kids acted as if they’d always had a German shepherd in the house, all the way to Warren scooping out the large-dog dog food into Asia’s bowl. The kids loved their breakfast sandwiches and orange juice, and rushed out to be in the van to get to school on time.

Henry hopped out to hug her. “Glad to see you,” said Henry. Asia sat at attention, willing to be introduced. Sigrun introduced Henry as a friend, and Asia politely sniffed Henry, and then kissed his hand. “She’s lovely,” he said. “See you in the afternoon.” He drove off as the kids sang a popular song about a snowy mountain at the top of their lungs.

Sigrun cleaned up and walked each dog separately. She got used to the neighborhood as she carried poo bags everywhere in the dawn light. This particular neighborhood had busy people driving off or returning home at dawn, a neighborhood of casino floor managers, medical personnel, and company officers.

Sigrun got her wife coffee and a pastry. Wraith ate mechanically in the office, talking into her headset. Sigrun scrubbed her body in the shower, dressed in her painting clothes, grabbed her backpack of art supplies, and went to school. She spent the entire day going from class to class, with time in between for lunch and 3D printing.

Saber surfaced slowly. One of the German shepherds from his dream of incarceration licked his hand. He ended up on the other side of the bed, wide awake. “Sitzen,” he said, and Asia sat. “What’s your name?” he asked, in English.

Wraith came in with a tray with a breakfast sandwich, orange juice, and a napkin. “Asia,” said Wraith. “She’s an excellent dog.”

“They underfed them,” said Saber.

“I know,” said Wraith.

“I told them. They didn’t believe me.”

“Or they didn’t want to spend the money,” said Wraith, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Some of the kids looked pinched.”

“Yet, they wanted to spend thousands on guns,” said Saber, his voice low and angry. “I am so happy they took my deposition at the hospital. Those men don’t deserve their women, families.” He took a bite of his breakfast sandwich. “Mmmf,” he said.

Wraith grinned at him, and went to eat her own chicken salad. She came back for the tray, and found that Saber had stumbled into the shower. She was concerned; he’d lost weight again.

Wraith ran High Desert some more in her brand-new office, with three screens on her wall. Saber stood in the doorway, drinking a strawberry smoothie, just listening to her line up clients, set up interviews, tweak contracts, and move operatives around like chess pieces.

She stood for a break, and he clapped. “Amazing,” he said. “You rock.”

She took a bow. “I do. Aren’t you supposed to be relaxing in your favorite chair?”

“I wanted help relaxing,” said Saber.

“What kind of help did you need?” asked Wraith. She kissed him deeply.

“I need help with reality,” he said seriously. “Ketamine is nasty, and I keep having these strange delusions.”

She kissed him again. “Which ones?” she asked.

“I have this strange delusion that one of the captor dogs is now our dog.”

“It’s true,” said Wraith, leading him out of her office.

“And I seem to be a father of three children you told me nothing about,” he said.

“That’s a real one,” said Wraith, picking up dog toys. She threw an orange ball in one direction and a fat blue alien the other way, and the dogs ran to pick up their toys.

“And, I think we hired a transvestite who now wants to be a woman who is an amazing chef to watch over our kids.”

“True,” said Wraith.

“You told me about Kat. She’s amazing,” said Saber, as his wife led him back to the bedroom.

“She is,” said Wraith. “She’s picking up the kids after she picks up Sarah, her daughter,” said Wraith. “So it doesn’t give us much time.”

“For what?” asked Saber.

“This,” said Wraith. She pulled off his shirt, pushed him onto the bed, and kissed him soundly.

He came up for air, and said, “Oh, that.” She let out a wild laugh, and pretended to punch his shoulder.

He pulled off his shorts, and was stunned at Wraith’s warm hands grabbing at his balls. He gasped, and just let her kiss her way from his neck down his chest while moving one finger at a time. He bucked as she found him with her mouth, her teeth, still moving one finger at a time. He stood at attention, and she slid onto him.

“Condom,” he whispered.

“Why?” asked Wraith.

“We have three kids,” whispered Saber, as she tightened around him, so the last word ended in a squeak.

“So?” said Wraith. “We could always use more.”

“House is big… enough,” gasped Saber, as she clenched on him and began to move.

“So are you,” said Wraith.

She stole his breath and his kisses, and made him lose his mind as she went slowly, slowly, ratcheting up his tension. She came twice, screaming into his mouth, before she sped up and let him come. She arched her back, and he exploded into nothingness. She cleaned them both up, slid his underwear and shorts back onto his limp body, and half-carried him into the living room to sleep on his recliner. He felt his shirt going back on, just before he leaned back and slid back into deep sleep.

He woke with Warren doing spinning kicks in front of him. “Good job, buddy,” he said. “Definitely a gold belt. You going for orange?”

“Two weeks,” said Warren. “Maybe three. I’ve got to practice.”

“Do it,” said Saber. Warren resumed his kicks.

Saber looked over at Dina. She was in the other recliner, with a lap desk on her lap. She giggled as Roxie leapt on her stomach, and began kneading to get her human in the right shape.

“How’s your schoolwork, Dina?” asked Saber.

“Getting there,” said Dina. “I’m finding the holes. Henry and Callie say there’s holes in my education because of my pain, surgeries, and teachers who didn’t understand what I was going through. So, there were holes, and so I missed stuff. Some of that stuff built up on other stuff, so I felt like I was stupid.”

“You are definitely not stupid,” said Kat, who slipped some sort of chocolate drink with a straw into the slot on Dina’s plastic desk tray. “Drink your peanut butter and chocolate chip shake. Put some meat on those lovely bones.”

“That sounds incredible,” said Saber.

Kat dimpled. “It is, love, would you like one?”

“Yes,” said Saber. “Where’s Sondra?”

“In her room,” said Kat, as she strode into the kitchen. “She wanted to concentrate on history, so she’s watching some podcasts about the Civil War.”

Warren stopped spinning. “It’s a stupid name for a war,” he said, barely breathing hard. “Civil means being nice to people, or relating to ordinary citizens.” He began spinning the other way.

“You’re right,” said Saber. “But, it’s called that because it has the meaning of ‘not international’ in that context. But, it is a stupid word to use for that.”

“People wouldn’t adopt me because I’m half Mongolian,” said Warren.

“That’s a great time to use the word ‘stupid,’” said Saber. “They had no idea what a great kid you are.”

“You can’t use that word,” said Dina. “You can use ‘uniformed’ or ‘prejudiced.’ The problem is, prejudiced people don’t know they’re prejudiced.”

“The ones I interacted with from the last month did know, and they didn’t care,” said Saber. He sighed. “The economy is changing. You have to find whatever slot you can, and the old types of jobs are leaving. It takes ingenuity to find a new slot for yourself, especially when the old ones go away. Thinking outside the box. Some people want back in the box that got taken away, so they climb in even smaller mental boxes to try to feel safe.”

Kat brought over the shake for Saber, and slid it into the plastic hole cut into the recliner for drinks. “Thank you,” said Saber.

“I agree,” said Kat. “But, these people have been kept down for generations in poverty. They don’t have the resources or knowledge to seek a new slot, as you say.”

Saber sipped his shake, and groaned. “This is the best thing ever,” he said. “You put banana in it.”

“You need potassium,” said Kat. “Drink up.”

“So that’s why we go to school? To find our slots?” asked Dina.

“Yes, and to have the ability to think in new ways, to put new information together in different ways to find new opportunities,” said Saber.

“I wish this were easier,” said Dina. “Sending a kid to school for so many years sounds stupid.”

“And that’s why you’re attending the Nighthawks school,” said Saber. “It saves time. You can dig deeper in any subject, cross-learn on several, like combining history with an English report and doing a scientific analysis of a historical situation.”

“Like what?” said Kat. She brought over a small tray of fruit, vegetables, and a tiny cup of veggie dip for Dina, and a second one for Saber.

“Disease vectors,” said Warren, who was now breathing hard. The boy stopped spinning, and began punches.

Saber was startled. “Yes, exactly,” said Saber.

“The Black Plague in Europe, spread by fleas,” said Warren. “China did fine, while Europe slipped into the Dark Ages.”

“Smallpox in the new world,” said Dina. “Henry gets really sad when he talks about it. The natives in many parts of North and Central America didn’t have natural immunities.”

“What about space?” asked Warren, now changing the topic. Warren moved to stretches. “No air outside the craft. Not a lot of workarounds there.”

Saber smiled. “Go on, tell me more.”

“Spaceships, spacesuits,” listed Warren. “But there is something called redundancy. You have two or three of everything in case something breaks.”

“Kind of like how people had lots of kids in the past,” said Dina. “Used to die a lot.” She sounded sad. “Like my mom.”

Kat came over and hugged her. “Yes,” Kat said. “And it’s still that way in some parts of the world. So, study your brains out, honey, so we can change the world.”

“I can change the world,” said Warren, finishing his stretches.

“We all can, every day,” said Saber. “You’ve certainly changed mine.”

Trumpet Night

Jerry watched a tiny girl with blonde hair make horses dance. They let her put them on a lead, then a bridle, then a blanket, then a saddle, and then she rode them. Sometimes she rode the horse bareback, or with just a blanket. Sometimes she rode them without anything, not even a bridle. She fed them apples and sugar cubes, and laughed in the blazing sun. Her name was Damia, and she fascinated him.

It took him two weeks to be allowed to move out. The guys kept eyes on him all the time. They called his friend, Pete “Pomp.” Pete woke him up, drove him to see Robert, the Zuni guy who tore apart offroad bikes and put them back together with new parts. They were real careful of his hands. Robert called them “gifted.” So, he could unbox parts, lay them out, carry out old, crumpled parts to be junked, and clean the chrome. He learned his tools, and all the parts of the bike, and was allowed to clean the old parts. He ached to put his fingers on a bike, to build it from nose to tail.

Every other night, Pete, he should call him Pomp now, took him to the jazz clubs. He learned how to listen, how to reach into the music. He was given a tablet computer, and he was expected to learn to read sheet music for at least half an hour a day. He’d done it by ear for so long; jazz was like that. But, learning the notes was interesting.

He had a corner of the tent where he could see out. The tent made sense to the back of his brain; he’d been a soldier. Doing tasks in a tent made sense to him. So, he did as ordered. Robert showed him how to remove damaged parts, how to box them for the junkyard. Then, how to clean parts, and how to build from the engine outward. How to hook up brakes and electrical systems. The work interested him somewhere deep inside, made him kind of hum in his chest.

And, out of the tent, he watched the little girl and her laughter. Her aunt, Inola, watched her, helped her exercise all the horses, and the little ponies too. They brushed them and cleaned out their hooves. The first time he saw a little girl clean out the hooves of a giant horse, he nearly ran out of the tent to protect her, but since it might spook the horse, he walked forward, slowly. Robert stopped him, and pointed to his eyes and then Jerry’s eyes. Watch. So, he did. And the horse quietly let the little girl clean out its hooves, tail swishing.

At three weeks, he was allowed to move in upstairs from the work on the farm. On the days after he’d been out to the clubs, he was allowed to sleep in. On the other nights, a hand patted on his door just before dawn. He learned to lumber down the stairs and out to the fence to watch the sun go up. Robert and Triesta would come out too, because of that little hand patting on the door. Sometimes they looked rather disheveled, Triesta’s hair flying up all over, Robert’s hair flying out of its braid. He knew they were having sex; the sounds were clear in the dark. It didn’t make him feel bad. It was a clinging on to life which he understood very well.

He was in a fog, a daze. Pomp —Pete, took him to a doctor, who put him on a treadmill and glared at him. “You, sir, could have given yourself a heart attack losing weight that fast,” said the doctor, Doctor Malis. He was a little guy, with dark, dark hair and black eyes with their shimmering intelligence.

“Wasn’t intentional,” said Jerry.

“Your friend says you’re working on a farm, with a relatively healthy diet,” said Doctor Malis. “He also says you’re in recovery from PTSD.”

Jerry was sick of the term. It seemed to be related to every damn thing —insomnia, nightmares, flashbacks, anxiety, eating too much or too little, sleeping too much, breathing too hard, being tense, having a pounding heart, sweating. He’d lost his friends, people he considered family. He went to their funerals. He’d talked to their relatives, those of them that had any. Jon and Ruden didn’t have any. Both had been foster kids.

To be polite, he said, “Yes.”

“Okay,” said Dr. Ruben. “You need food, rest, sun, and something to do with your time. Sounds like you have all of those.”

“I do,” said Jerry.

“Do you need anti-anxiety or sleeping medication?” asked Dr. Ruben.

“Nope,” said Jerry. The drugs made him feel stupid, slow, half-human.

“Try melatonin,” said Dr. Ruben. “Sets your internal clock. Once it’s set, then go back off of it if you like. Not a drug.”

“Okay,” said Jerry.

“Nothing else needed, really,” said Dr. Ruben. “When you want to, you can attend a PTSD group,” he said. “Your friend says that you have lots of soldier friends, so you can talk to them.”

“Yeah,” said Jerry.

“Okay,” said Dr. Ruben. “Go home and relax.” He smiled. “Glad you’re with friends.”

Something in his eyes made Jerry ask. “Did you serve?” asked Jerry.

Dr. Ruben snorted. “You think I could pay for a medical degree on my own?”

Jerry nodded. He shook hands with the doctor, who gave him a little bottle of a melatonin supplement. Dazed by the lack of having anything shoved down his throat, Pete drove him back to see Robert. Pete didn’t quiz him at all about what the doctor said, just stopped by Sonic so they could stuff themselves with burgers, cheese fries, and peanut butter shakes. Jerry went back to see Robert, and was delighted when Robert actually started to use his tools.

Robert took him on walks, just wandering down trails, saying almost nothing, except occasionally pointing out a chipmunk a snake, or a desert hawk. Jerry liked the quiet, and the man’s quiet existence. Robert didn’t want anything from Jerry except good work and someone to walk with, so Jerry could live with that.

Vi in the house made him wash dishes with her. She rinsed, and he filled up the dishwasher. He would come in after Robert sent him away for his Triesta break, time with his girl. Vi would have him shuck corn, or shell peas, or sweep the floor. She would give him her brown sugar biscuits with honey and a big glass of cherry limeade as his reward, or maybe cookies, peanut butter or chocolate chunk, or even toffee chip. The corgi, Bess, would help by sitting at his feet. He began keeping small dog treats in his pocket for Bess.

Then there were the girls. There were lots of them. Two were Chinese, Jie and Hu, and the other one was Grace, with a quicksilver movement that made him dizzy to watch. Hu played the violin, Jie played the Chinese bamboo flute, and Grace played the guitar and keyboards.

Grace came over with a smaller trumpet, scaled for a child, after one of the super-loud dinners with babies and toddlers and people speaking in every language under the sun. Being around that many people and the noise always left him a little raw. Grace came over to where he was on the porch, and cleaned her little trumpet. He brought out his own trumpet, and cleaned it. The sun was just beginning to go down, an orange ball in the side. He ran through some scales, and Grace did too, following him up and down.

The sun slid lower. He stood, and went out to the paddock. He turned toward the sun. The girls came out, and Inola, and Henry and David who were the house grandfathers, and some of the huge pack of teenagers that lived on the other side of the paddock. Inola sang down the sun, and then Jerry put the trumpet to his lips, and blew out Taps. Grace figured it out, and was with him on the third note. He played it a second time, with her taking it slow like him. The notes died out, and everyone touched each other on the shoulder and went home.

“Blue Blues tonight,” Jerry said to Grace.

“They let me in?” asked Grace.

“Dunno,” said Jerry. “We can try.”

“Let’s go,” said Jerry.

It didn’t occur to him to tell anyone where they were going, that he was leaving on a giant bike with somebody else’s kid, or that he was essentially going to a bar, but Henry watched. He called Pomp, and Pomp was there when Jerry and Grace went into the back door with their trumpet cases. Pomp texted their location, and Henry and David loaded themselves up in the truck and headed to a blues club for the first time in their lives. Since it was a bar and grill and the girl was a performer, Grace was given a Shirley Temple to drink, and she was allowed to sit away from the bar.

Jerry pulled up the sheet music on his cell phone, and Grace downloaded the program and pulled it up. He showed her the five or six songs they usually did in their sets. The drummer pointed a stick at them, and Jerry and Grace took their trumpet cases and sheet music on their phones to the stage. The cocktail server brought over two waters for them.

Grace put her phone on the music stand, and Jerry put his beside hers. He took out his trumpet, and she did too. He played Moon over Bourbon Street, and Grace hit a few notes, all of them correct, but didn’t play the whole thing. The singer, a man in a black suit and a thin white tie, howled at the end, making Grace grin wildly. The female singer came up, and she went into Natural Woman. Grace knew that one, and hit the notes like gold.

Pomp recorded the whole thing on his cell, in the back of the club, and ordered Cokes for Henry and David. They arrived, sat down, and were stunned by Grace. The young girl acted like she’d always been playing trumpet in a blues club. The singer went into Midnight Train to Georgia, and Grace grinned, and belted out the notes. They took a short water break, and the man came up and sang George Michael’s Kissing a Fool. Grace understood the few notes she was supposed to play, and began to have fun with Jerry, chasing his notes.

They took a break, and Grace lit up when she saw her grandfathers in the back. Jerry brought her to them, and they all sat down. “Jerry,” said Henry. “This is a great experience for Grace, but you forgot to tell us you were taking her here.”

“He took me on his big Harley,” said Grace, her eyes still alight. “Even bigger than Mama’s and yours.”

“True,” said Henry, calmly sipping his Coke. “I knew you were taking trumpet on YouTube, but I didn’t know you knew jazz.”

“It naturally lends itself to trumpet,” said Grace. “I don’t want to be in a marching band.” She wrinkled her nose. “Do you know that kids walk around during football games playing music?”

“Don’t knock it, kid,” said Pomp. “Try doing what you’re doing while walking in formation.”

Henry grinned. “I hadn’t realized we were keeping you from football experiences.”

“Soccer’s more fun,” said Grace.

The drummer ticked his cymbal. “We’re up,” said Pomp.

“Awesome,” said Grace.

Henry sent a text, and Ivy snuck over from her own club. They did As Time Goes By from Casablanca, and Ella Fitzgerald’s Summertime, and the male singer came back for a ballad of Mack the Knife. They went into What a Wonderful World.

Ivy wiped tears from the corner of her eyes. She stood, walked over, took the mic from the man, and sang Somewhere over the Rainbow, out of place in her black jeans and silvery shirt, with her daughter playing trumpet. She put a lot of soul into it, and hit the notes beautifully, and so did her daughter.

They walked offstage together, to the audience clapping. Ivy took her daughter to the bathroom, and then made sure she’d had enough water.

“Take her home now, Henry, David,” she said. She side-eyed Jerry. “You ask permission before taking my daughter anywhere, you hear?” she said.

Jerry finally found the fog lifting. He realized his blunder could have sent him to prison, if anyone had thought he was kidnapping Grace. He bowed his head. “I’m really sorry I forgot to get permission first. It won’t happen again, ma’am.”

“Can I come back?” asked Grace, confused.

“Yes, but with permission,” said Ivy, tweaking Grace’s nose. “Your fast brain skipped over that part.”

The manager rushed over, a short man with wavy black hair, wearing a blue suit and a skinny red tie. “Ma’am, your daughter can come by anytime she wants,” he said. “And your friends can drink all the soda and water they want for free. I’m Martin Moon.”

Ivy shook his hand. “I’m Ivy, and this is my daughter, Grace. I run the rock place on the other end.” She meant the other end of Paradise, the street that ran parallel to the Las Vegas Strip.

“I’ve heard you sing,” said Martin. “Can you do one more number, with your daughter?”

Grace nodded. Jerry also nodded. “Alright.” She grinned. “See if you can keep up,” she said to Jerry, and strode back onto the stage. She sang a far more down tempo version of the White Stripes’ Seven Nation Army.

She then went into Joss Stone’s Fell in Love with a Boy, a version of the White Stripes’ Fell in Love with a Girl. She rode the song into sexy goodness.

She took her daughter’s hand, took a bow, nodded at Jerry, and strode out, with head high, her daughter in tow. David opened the door for them, and Henry followed them out. Pomp stayed and glared at Jerry. Jerry shrugged. He’d been stupid. He wouldn’t be stupid again. He took his drilling like a man, as Pomp laid down the rules about interacting with little girls. He brought the moms little cacti in pots the next day as an apology, and promised both of them that he’d ask permission first.

The days took on a golden liquid quality. He learned not to stay out too long in the clubs, so he could wake up by a little girl’s hand patting his door. He taught Grace what he knew, and learned to ask permission to train Grace, as well as to take Grace to the clubs. Grace had to practice, learning The Jazz Songbook in the desert air, plus all the Joss Stone songs. They took walks together, when he wasn’t walking with Robert, scaring the hawks and snakes, chipmunks and rabbits, building up their lung power by walking and playing. At night, Grace met him for Taps. Jie played the flute, and Hu the violin, making a lovely sound at night. They formed a little band, and they learned Chinese songs too, without Jerry.

Two weeks later, Pomp came and put him on his bike, and rode with him out into the desert. The other Soldier Pack members were there, with tents and campfires, chicken and fish to grill, coffee over coals. Tori showed him how to make little caramel chocolate cakes in tin cans dug into the coals. Gregory was their Gunny. He and Tori made sure everything was shipshape and that they left the camp cleaner than they’d found it. They had his trumpet and guitars, and played the ukulele, and they played and sang well into the night.

They told stories, too. The ones about the sock thief who was using them to pad boots on long marches, the talker, the card shark, the singer, the guy they called Croc who never blinked, Rinky who clacked his battle rattle all over three countries, and Rowan who stopped the fighting in three villages by shaming the elders into peace.

They didn’t speak about the dead goats and chickens, the children with no fat on their bones, the wasted lives, boots by the road, or the helmet on a weapon. Stones by the road showing directions to places that no longer existed, gone in firestorms of bombs and trucks, and burning people running away. They knew all those things, in their hearts, as stains in their souls. Things they could not tell their friends, lovers, siblings, parents. But they knew, and they knew everyone else in their pack knew too.

The tents were different, two-person tents instead of barracks, good fresh food grilled over a fire instead of MREs and tin cans, and full bellies. And feet that weren’t baking or chilled, wet or sore, in hiking rather than combat boots. It was all different. Yet, for a night, it was the same, jokes and a hot night under the stars and a soft wind tickling the sand. And, for this night, nobody had to die; nobody had to be on watch for missiles screaming into the night, nobody had to walk the perimeter, giving up sleep, rifle at the ready. They didn’t have to have their sleep interrupted by jeeps or orders. They could just talk, and sleep.

Pomp sat with Jerry and Gregory when everyone else had gone to tents to sleep. Gregory asked, “Do you sleep?”

Jerry nodded. “Just… it’s good. To be with…”

“Us,” said Gregory.

“Yeah,” said Pomp.

“Heard you absconded with a little girl,” said Gregory.

Jerry hung his head. “She wanted to play. I took her to where I played. I forgot I was being an ass by not talking to her moms. My head was still…” He mimicked his head being empty with his hands.

“Your head still gone?” asked Gregory.

“Nope,” said Jerry. “That woke me up. Coulda gotten a little kid killed riding on my bike. Her mom says she’s old enough to ride on my bike, but I get real nervous. Now, Henry and I go in his truck, and Pomp takes me home on the back of his bike.” He grinned. “Ivy is supposed to be slinging drinks at her club and singing, but she shows up to sing.”

“Let me know,” said Gregory. “I would definitely pay to see that.”

“I also talked to the doctor. Being that out of it is too dangerous. The melatonin stuff works for sleeping, and he’s got me on a low dose of anti-anxiety medicine to deal with my depression. Now, instead of a black cloud over me, I kinda have a gray one.” All three men let out a low chuckle.

“You had us scared, Jerry,” said Pomp, softly.

“Sorry ‘bout that. Have to make amends to my brother. I’m getting paid for session work, and Robert is paying me for working on the Harleys. I send most of it home. They don’t have enough to feed their own damn kids.”

“Your brother working?” asked Gregory.

“At the mini-mart. Genna, his wife, stays home with their three kids. Ain’t got two pennies between them. Can’t afford insurance, stuff for the kids.”

“Have to fix that,” said Gregory. He looked at Pomp.

Pomp looked back. “From what I can tell, your brother owns the house, inherited it from your mom.”

“Yeah,” said Jerry. “Can’t move, or would be paying rent. Barely gets property taxes together. Can’t stay, ‘cause no jobs.”

Pomp sat a minute. “You like working on the bikes?”

“Yeah,” said Jerry. “I do.”

Pomp looked at Gregory, and Gregory shook his head minutely. “So,” said Pomp. “Make bikes, sell ’em, keep some to live on, send the rest to your brother.” He nodded his head. “Or, work for a garage. Harley skills are valued.”

“I can do that,” said Jerry.

“And do session work, build up good cred in the music business,” said Gregory. “Know your craft.” He grinned. “You’re good. Get better. A lot better. I’ve got some gorgeous soul singers that need good session workers.”

“I can do that,” said Jerry, sitting up straighter.

“And treat Grace right or I’ll come down on you and hold you down while her moms remove your spleen with a spoon,” said Gregory.

“Yes, Gunny,” said Jerry.

“Now, get the fuck in bed,” said Gregory.

“Yes, Gunny,” said Jerry.

“Yes, boss,” said Pomp. The men stood, brushed themselves off, and made their way back to the tent.

“That one needs watching,” said Thandie, coming out of the dark. “And, we need to set Spider on the family.”

“Yes and no,” said Gregory, letting the fire go down to embers. “He needs to be responsible for his family, but it won’t be enough for a while.”

“And I wouldn’t damage those hands or lungs working with us,” said Thandie. “Besides, he’s not ready.” She sighed. “Possibly years not ready.”

“He’d be super-protective,” said Gregory. “Maybe train him as backup, and on the Evade classes.”

“Later,” said Thandie.

“Later,” agreed Gregory. They headed to their tents.

In the morning, they had coffee and oatmeal with brown sugar, dried blueberries and strawberries, and honey cooked over the hot coals. They put out the fire, and took a ride down to Lake Mead, following the line of the lake. They ate barbecue, pulled pork and fries, and baked beans at a great restaurant, rode out until the light started to go, and stayed at a campsite. They used a pie iron to make chicken, tomato, and bacon Panini’s, and then they had smores. They played fireside soccer, and then split up into groups that played cards and told tall tales. The musicians who had brought their instruments provided Spanish guitar, ukulele, and trumpet music, alone (and eventually in a group), in between stories. They went to bed hearing the lake lap nearby.

Breakfast was coffee and brown sugar pecan oatmeal. They packed up, and headed for home. A trumpeter named Slim Bone, an ancient man with more wrinkles than face, decided to teach Jerry all he knew. He talked about sessions with Joss Stone and B.B. King and Bonnie Raitt. Jerry realized he’d found a trumpeter gunny, someone old and wizened who had seen everything, been everywhere, and who knew more about blowing notes than Jerry ever would. Gregory also made a passing comment to him during a particularly loud dinner to finish off his college credits to finish his bachelor’s degree in information management. He had to take cheaper online courses to remember what he was supposed to do. He bought a cheap refurbished laptop, and struggled to remember. It seemed like a lifetime ago. He fought to remember things that made perfect sense to him before. That part of his life seemed closed off. Henry made him go work in the Wolfpack house, and half a dozen kids helped him recall his distant memories. They explained things to his slow brain, gently leading him back to channels of memory. Empty channels became streams, then floods.

He took the first course, after nearly emptying his bank account to send his brother money after their car died and his brother still couldn’t get to work. Ivy sent full backpacks for the kids for school. His G.I. bill paid for the course and the e-textbooks he needed. He felt the fog slip away, sliding into distant memory. His fingers felt clumsy; sticky on the keys, then he began to type faster and faster. Eventually, his fingers flew over the keys.

Still, the trumpet and the walks with Robert, and a girl that wanted to play for the snakes and coyotes continued. He built his first bike, from cutting off the parts damaged in a crash in the desert, to ordering new parts, to cleaning and reconditioning all the old parts, to letting Robert paint his Zuni magic onto it, to putting it back together, to doing the chrome, to the Zuni man who came from two states away to take his new bike. He was beginning to do good session work, thanks to Slim Bone and his limitless network of contracts, so he sent the entire bit to his brother, minus the cost of a new bike to refurbish.

He decided he needed to go back, to refurbish the house. He told Pomp, and Pomp told others, and soon they were all on a ride across the country once again. They rode straight through to New Mexico, then across Texas. They raised money along the way on their ride for soldiers. They played Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap and Highway to Hell and some of the best Bonnie Raitt and her slide guitar (ever).

They made it to Rudon in three days. First, they headed to the Home Depot in Birmingham, Alabama, and bought what they needed and put it in a rental truck. Then, they put the house to rights, from the falling-down porch to the leaky roof to the holes in the walls. They put it back together, painted it inside and out, and took the kids for new school clothes. They bought a used refrigerator, and filled it up. They bought a new small convection oven and a microwave. They bought a used truck for Jerry’s brother Frank. They built shelves and got rid of broken things. The kids got little tablets stuffed with educational software, courtesy of Henry. By the time they left, the entire family was smiling, their bills paid, and the kids had shoes.

On the way out, they spread out and picked up the soldiers coming into the Iron Knights, and two each for the Valkryies and the Gearheads, and one for Bonnie. Most of them were missing something —an arm, a leg, an organ. Some had plates in their heads and on other bones.

They came together just outside Amarillo. They ate a huge steak dinner then found a campground because of the collective nightmares that woke most of them up screaming. They cooked smores over a fire, and Jerry played out Taps for the growing dark.

They spread out again after Boulder City, the two Valkyrie women went to Pahrump and to the Valkyries and Herja’s garage. The rest spread out to the Iron Knights, the Gearheads, and to Bonnie.

They used the money they raised to buy destroyed bikes for the Soldier Pack to refurbish. Jerry went back to his session work, worked on bikes, and did one course at a time. The nightmares faded, and he began seeing the dawn instead of just the nights.

But, always, he chose the section of tent that let him see Damia with her horses. That little girl showed him bravery, every day, in the sun, in the paddocks with her horses. She rode horses five times her size, and they loved her, each and every one.

“Running as fast as you can is often the better part of valor.”