“Yeah but, with the Renegades, we always kinda seem to do everything on their time frame.”
They come to a stop in front of the accident, each of them putting their bikes in park before turning them off and disembarking in what appears to be a practiced sequence.
The group of men walk in an eagle formation the likes of which the military would be proud of. Placing my feet apart, I stand my ground as they approach not only the deputy but me as well, since I’m standing beside him.
“Racer.” The deputy nods.
“Mav.” The older man does the same, his face impassive. The only hint of his pain is the narrowing of his eyes. “Do we know what happened?”
My gaze quickly runs over the leather vest he wears. The patches on it proclaim him President and his name to be Racer. Even though he appears to be at least fifty, I don’t want to meet him in a dark alley. He looks like he could take on more than one man at a time.
Maverick sighs, seeming to try and stall.
“I’m gonna find out either way,” Racer presses.
“Coal truck hit ‘em from behind as they were stopped to turn.”
“Mmm.” He rubs at the goatee interspersed with gray hair. “Any particular reason why?”
“Smelled like a goddamn brewery.”
Anger flashes across his face.
“Racer, don’t take this into your own hands,” Maverick warns.
“This is a young couple. They got a baby. He’s an orphan now. All they were doing was hanging out by themselves for the day. Actions have consequences and the driver of that truck needs to realize that.”
Racer turns from us, making a motion with his hand. The rest of the guys follow suit.
“What do you think all that means?” I question as they get back on their bikes.
“We’re about to have a fucking murder in Creek County if we don’t watch it,” he mumbles. “Son of a bitch. I gotta go fill the sheriff in on this. Talk to you later, Danny.”
“Yeah, see ya.”
Even though I should probably be helping with the cleanup, my attention is focused on the group of men as they turn from the accident and take off back toward where they came from.
“C’mon Danny,” Lieutenant Hines whistles from where he stands. He throws me a broom. “Help them get this cleaned up so we can get both lanes open.”
My head bowed, I sweep the pieces of metal that had once been a machine. Do my best not to think about the young couple who’d gone out for a ride and now would never be going home again. Crossing my chest, I say a small prayer for their families and their child. Reality creeps in when we least expect it and this part of the job is something I’ll always struggle with. Everyone says it gets easier, but how does knowing people have lost their lives get easier?
Why would you want it to?
Each time, it should feel like a kick in the gut so we never take anything for granted.