Chapter 9 - THE UNCOVERED MACHINE
Without waiting for Caleb to answer, Lily walked right past his wheelchair, stepping up to the large, mysterious shape sitting in the center of the bay under the heavy black canvas tarp.
"Lily, don't touch that!" her older brother shouted from the doorway, stepping into the room for the first time, his terror briefly overcome by instincts of protection.
Caleb didn't stop her. Big Bear didn't stop her.
Lily reached up with her small hands, grabbed the corner of the heavy canvas, and gave it a sharp, firm tug downward.
The heavy black cover slid off the machine with a loud, whispering WHOOSH, collapsing onto the oil-stained concrete floor in a heap of dust.
Underneath sat Audrey’s motorcycle.
It was a pristine, fully custom 1974 Harley-Davidson Shovelhead, painted in deep matte black with delicate hand-painted silver pinstriping along the fuel tank. The chrome was spotless, reflecting the golden afternoon light streaming through the transom windows. And strapped to the rear leather saddlebag, secured by a small brass lock that had remained untouched for eight years, was a small leather key pouch.
The acoustic melody from the tiny speaker reached its final, lingering chord.
Caleb stared at the motorcycle. Then he looked down at his right boot.
Slowly, deliberately, driven by a force that bypassed eight years of medical diagnosis and human despair, Caleb Marino lifted his right foot entirely off the aluminum footplate.
He set it down flat on the concrete floor.
A collective gasp tore through the twelve bikers standing in the circle. Big Bear covered his face with his heavy, tattooed hands, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs. Tank dropped to one knee, staring at the floorboards in utter disbelief.
Caleb felt the cold concrete against the sole of his boot. He felt the weight of his own leg. He felt the pulse of life returning to limbs he had consigned to the grave.
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He looked at Lily, his face wet with tears, his voice reduced to a breathless whisper.
"Who is your mother, Lily?"
