Bear took one step toward the counter.
Then another.
Behind the kitchen window, Rick panicked.
The Rat Behind the Counter
Rick's hands disappeared beneath the counter.
Bear noticed immediately.
He saw the man's shoulder drop.
Saw his eyes flick toward the weapon.
Saw the decision forming.
Bear had seen that look before.
The look of a frightened man deciding that violence was easier than consequences.
Rick pulled out a rusted .38 revolver.
He barely had time to raise it.
Bear moved.
One moment he was walking.
The next, he crossed the distance in two enormous strides.
He planted one hand on the counter.
And vaulted over it.
Sarah screamed.
Rick raised the gun.
Bear's hand closed around Rick's wrist and the barrel at the same time.
His grip was absolute.
Rick tried to pull away.
He couldn't.
Bear twisted his wrist.
The barrel pointed toward the ceiling.
"No."
The word came out quietly.
Almost gently.
Then Bear shoved Rick backward.
Rick stumbled into the kitchen wall, rattling pans and knocking utensils from their hooks.
The gun hit the floor.
Bear stepped forward and pinned Rick against the wall with one massive forearm.
Rick's feet barely touched the ground.
"You sell cheap," Bear said.
Rick's eyes widened.
"They made me!"
"Who?"
"The Copperheads!"
Bear stared at him.
"They own the debt on this place. They said if I didn't keep you here, they'd burn everything down!"
"You poisoned my food."
"I didn't know how much—"
"You held a gun on me."
Rick started crying.
"And that girl?"
Bear's voice became colder.
"How much did they pay you to keep her here?"
Rick's mouth opened.
Nothing came out.
That was enough.
Bear released him.
Rick collapsed to the floor.
Then Bear turned toward Sarah.
She was pressed into the corner with both arms raised over her head.
Waiting.
Waiting for the next man to hurt her.
Bear stopped.
He took a slow breath.
When he spoke again, his voice was softer.
"Sarah."
She lowered her arms.
"Get your coat."
Her lips trembled.
"What?"
"You're leaving."
For several seconds, she simply stared at him.
Then she whispered, "My passport."
Bear turned toward Rick.
Rick pointed weakly beneath the sink.
Bear opened the cabinet.
Inside was a small metal lockbox.
He grabbed it.
The cheap hinges snapped beneath his hands.
Inside was a worn passport.
Sarah's.
He handed it to her.
She stared at it.
"Put it in your pocket."
She did.
"Then get behind me."
Bear turned toward the front windows.
The storm outside suddenly flashed white.
Headlights.
One vehicle.
Then another.
Then a third.
The sound of tires tearing through gravel filled the night.
Sarah gasped.
"They're here."
Bear checked the room.
The back exit opened into the swamp.
Too dangerous.
The front door was narrow.
A choke point.
He pushed Sarah gently behind the counter.
"Stay down."
"What are you going to do?"
Bear cracked his neck.
"Buy time."
"How?"
He adjusted his gloves.
Then he smiled.
"By being difficult."
Six Against One
The first car door slammed.
Then another.
Voices carried through the storm.
Chains rattled.
Something metal scraped across the pavement.
The front door suddenly exploded inward.
Glass shattered.
Six men entered the diner.
They were soaked from the rain.
Leather.
Denim.
Bandanas.
Weapons.
The leader carried a tire iron.
He looked toward Bear's booth.
The seat was empty.
Then he saw Bear standing in the center of the diner.
The Copperhead leader stopped.
His men nearly collided behind him.
Bear stood with his arms crossed.
Six men had come expecting a drugged biker.
Instead, they found a mountain.
"Rick!" the leader shouted.
Bear spoke first.
"Rick is unavailable."
The gang leader looked at him.
"And you are?"