Then said, "Turned out all right."
Tom stared at the screen.
"Yeah."
Jake looked at Tom.
"You really think he'll come back at sixteen?"
Tom took a drink.
"Kid's five."
"He'll forget."
Tom thought about Miguel walking into the diner alone.
The cape.
The marker-stained fingers.
The drawing.
The absolute certainty that scary men could solve a problem adults could not.
Tom smiled slightly.
"Maybe."
Eleven years passed.
Franklin changed.
The old pharmacy became a coffee shop.
The gas station added electric chargers.
A supermarket opened outside town.
Several Iron Wolves retired from riding.
A few died.
Jake moved to Arizona to live near his daughter.
Snake developed a bad knee and bought a three-wheel touring bike that everyone teased him about until they realized how comfortable it was.
Tom's hair became almost completely gray.
His beard turned white.
His shoulders remained broad, though age had taken some strength from them.
The clubhouse changed too.
New riders joined.
Old photographs covered one wall.
Near the center was a framed piece of paper.
Miguel's drawing.
Tom had kept the original.
Elena had told him he could.
The marker had faded slightly.
The words had not.
PLEASE COME
Every member knew the story.
Some had been there.
Others had only heard it.
Nobody forgot.
On a Saturday afternoon in October, Tom sat at the clubhouse table repairing an old leather glove.
Snake was complaining about football.
The door opened.
Neither looked up immediately.
A young man's voice said:
"Mr. Tom?"
Tom froze.
The clubhouse became quiet.
He looked toward the door.
A teenager stood there.
Sixteen.
Tall.
Lean.
Dark hair.
Brown eyes.
The face had changed.
The eyes had not.
Around his neck hung a police badge on a chain.
Marcus Rivera's badge.
The teenager held something under one arm.
A carefully preserved piece of leather from the funeral.
Tom slowly stood.
"Miguel?"
The teenager smiled.
"I'm sixteen."
Snake began laughing before Tom could respond.
"I told you!"
Tom ignored him.
Miguel stepped closer.
Tom stared at him.
"You remembered?"
Miguel looked almost offended.
"You promised."
Tom laughed.
"So did your mom really say yes?"
A woman appeared behind Miguel.
Elena Rivera.
Older now.
Stronger.
The grief that had once hollowed her face had softened into something quieter.
She crossed her arms.
"I said yes with conditions."
Tom smiled.
"Of course you did."
"Helmet."
"Obviously."
"Training course."
"Absolutely."