Chapter 5 - THE SHIFT IN THE FLESH
It happened beneath the heavy black blanket that Caleb always kept draped over his lower legs.
The blanket was a simple, coarse wool throw, covering him from the waist down to his heavy black iron-toed biker boots. For eight years, those boots had rested completely motionless on the aluminum footplates of his wheelchair—dead weight, disconnected from his brain by a shattered spine.
The music from the small speaker continued to play its soft, acoustic rhythm.
Suddenly, underneath the dark wool fabric, something moved.
It was not a muscle spasm. It was not a violent, involuntary jerk caused by damaged nerve paths. It was a smooth, deliberate, micro-adjustment of physical weight.
The toe of Caleb’s right boot shifted forward.
Barely an inch.
The leather scraped against the textured aluminum of the footplate with a tiny, sharp squeak.
Caleb’s smile instantly vanished.
His entire body went rigid as steel. His head snapped down, his dark eyes locking onto the hem of the wool blanket where his right boot rested. His hands froze on his armrests, his fingers digging into the leather padding so hard the seams groaned under the strain.
The silence returned to the garage like a falling hammer. The music from the speaker felt suddenly loud, stark, and intrusive against the heavy quiet of the room.
Caleb didn't breathe. He didn't blink. He sat completely paralyzed by terror, his heart pounding against his ribs like a trapped bird, staring at his right foot as if it belonged to a ghost.
Five feet away, Big Bear dropped his torque wrench.
It hit the concrete floor with a deafening CLANG, but no one turned to look. Big Bear was staring at Caleb’s boots, his broad face pale, his gray beard twitching.
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Underneath the blanket, the leather moved again.
The heel of Caleb’s right boot slid back half an inch, settling firmly against the rear heel-guard of the footplate.
