Chapter 9: The Phone Call to Mom
The dust settled slowly over the overgrown grass around the old garage, leaving a fine gray film on the toes of my scuffed sneakers. Jax waited until the last faint echo of the choppers died away completely before he let out a long, ragged breath, his shoulders dropping an inch beneath his heavy leather vest. He turned around, looked down at me with an expression that was hard to read, and pointed a calloused finger toward the side door of the garage.
"Wait here for a second," he said quietly, his voice back to its normal, steady register. "Don't touch anything on the workbench. There's old battery acid in those jars near the window."
He stepped inside the dim, oil-stained interior of the building and disappeared into the shadows near a rusted workbench covered in greasy tools and spare spark plugs. I stood by the sliding door, listening to the faint sound of heavy boots moving across the concrete floor and the distinct metallic jingle of keys. Through a small, grime-covered window near the roof, I could see the afternoon sun dipping lower behind the jagged ridge of the hills, turning the sky a pale, bruised shade of purple and gray.
A moment later, the sharp, electronic trill of a mobile phone ringing broke the silence of the garage. It sounded old-fashioned, the kind of harsh chime that didn't belong in the modern world of smartphones and touchscreens.
"Yeah," Jax’s voice echoed from the darkness inside. A pause followed, filled only by the scratching sound of static over a weak signal. "Sarah? Yeah, it's me. Listen... I need you to do something for me down at the trailer park on the lower road. Go check on Clara. Tell her... tell her Leo's with me, and we're coming up the ridge right now."
There was another long pause while the person on the other end talked. I couldn't make out the words, just the high-pitched murmur of a woman's voice speaking quickly and with a lot of urgency.
"I know," Jax said, his voice dropping softer, almost into a whisper. "I know she shouldn't have been left by herself today. Just... tell her I'm bringing him home safe. No cops, no rally bullshit. Just tell her I'm coming."
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The line clicked dead with a sharp beep. Jax stepped back out into the bright afternoon sunlight, holding an old-fashioned flip phone in his massive hand. He flipped the plastic cover shut with a sharp snap that made me jump slightly, then slipped it back into the inner pocket of his vest alongside the faded photograph and the folded paper.
"That was Sarah from the diner," Jax said, looking down at me with a serious expression. "She said your mom went looking for you down by the highway about an hour ago. One of the neighbors gave her a ride back to the trailer when her knee gave out. She's sitting on the front porch right now, waiting."
