Nope?
I barely had time to process the word before the bike zoomed back onto the road and accelerated. Stunned, I slapped his thigh, demanding that he stop. He ignored me, weaving around cars as we raced west, away from the dam, away from Kyle, Sahdev, and Hector.
I didn’t understand. The man I loved never hesitated to put himself between danger and his people. Ripper wouldn’t abandon our friends, would he? Was this some misguided attempt to keep me safe? Crap. I wouldn’t want to guarantee my safety by risking everyone else’s, but I couldn’t force Ripper to stop.
I craned my neck and scanned the road, searching for the jeep, but it was nowhere in sight. Where was it? Had they drowned?
Ripper pointed to a sign for Hood River, twenty miles away. A scenic highway threaded south through the Cascade Mountains and away from floodwaters at Hood River.
The freeway’s elevation rose and fell, and its course wandered back and forth from the water’s edge. One moment we rode safely above the floodwaters and the next I held my breath, certain that the river was about to inundate the road. Just past the tiny town of Rowena, tall, sheer cliffs loomed over the road on our left. Bright-green graffiti defaced the rocky surface. In huge letters, somebody had sprayed Back 2 Eden, the same slogan that had been popping up around Portland during the past month. Close to Hood River, the freeway hugged the Columbia, and water lapped onto the roadway.
Ripper slowed down as we approached the exit to Hood River. Instead of turning onto the off-ramp, he pulled onto the shoulder of the overpass just past the exit. He turned the bike around to face oncoming traffic and cut the engine. I hopped off the bike, removed my helmet, and whirled around to face him.
“What the hell?” I sputtered, my heart pounding in my throat.
Ripper regarded me calmly, his unruffled expression totally at odds with my indignant agitation.
“Why didn’t we go back? We just rode away and left them to die. Kyle. Sahdev. Hector.”
“You done?” he demanded.
I wasn’t even close to being done. “You were a Ranger, for crissake. A Janissary. I thought you guys had a code, that you never left a man behind.”
That accusation hit home. Ripper released the strap on his helmet, tugged it off his head, then swung off the bike. He folded his arms over his chest and glowered at me. “Never left a brother trapped behind lines, Mac. Never left a fallen comrade to fall into enemy hands.” He pointed at the river. “This ain’t war.”
“You’re right. This isn’t war, but doesn’t the same principle apply? You don’t cut and run. You don’t save your own skin by abandoning your friends.”
“Tell me how it would’ve worked out if we went back,” he said, his stoical mask cracking and exasperation leaking through. “Either the jeep recovered from the slide—in which case it should be coming along any minute. Or it flipped over onto the freeway and they got caught in the rising water. Even if we went back, if we got everybody out of the jeep before the freeway flooded, then what? You think I can carry four adults and a German shepherd on my Harley? You think Kyle and Sahdev would thank me for bringing you along on a fool’s mission? Risking your life when it wouldn’t make a goddamned bit of difference to the outcome, because there’s no way I could carry everybody out?”
“Risking my life?” I demanded. Really? What kind of outdated sexist bullshit is that? “We’re a team. I’m not some helpless child who needs to be protected.”
Ripper wrapped his large hands around my upper arms. “You’re not a helpless child, Mac. You’re a capable woman, but you’re also mine to protect. If you don’t like that—if you want to call it outdated sexist bullshit—tough.”
My anger was a shallow thing—skin deep at best—and his words scoured my indignation away, leaving behind only fear and concern for our missing friends. “I’m safe now,” I said, squeezing his forearms. “We’re twenty miles downstream from the dam. On an elevated road. I don’t want you to do anything stupid, to take any unreasonable risks, but couldn’t you leave me here, then turn around and ride back on the shoulder as far as it’s safe? Look for the jeep?”
Ripper sighed and leaned forward, pressing his forehead against mine. “And leave you alone on the side of the road? No fucking way. You remember those men who almost grabbed you back in Portland? And it’s not just strangers I’m thinking about. What if the dam gives way completely? We’re not out of danger yet. We get separated again, odds are we’ll never find our way back to each other. Come hell or high water—” He shook his head over what was obviously an unintended play on words. “I’m not leaving your side.”
Ripper by my side. For the past two weeks—when he was missing and presumed dead—that’s all I’d wanted. I’d told myself that if he just came back, I could face anything. Jesus. The old world was dying a slow and painful death. Layer by layer, everything familiar was peeling away. Ripper might be the center of my universe, but I guess I must be greedy. I needed Kyle and Sahdev and Hector, too. I needed my friends and the family we were building.
“I can’t stand to lose them, Ripper,” I confessed. “I think it’d break me.”
“Nah.” He hauled me against his chest. “You’re tougher than you think. Nothing this world can throw at you will break you. I promise you that, Mac.”
In spite of everything—even as a rush of tears filled my eyes—a small smile curved my lips. A lost voice sifted up through my memory.
And Ripper always keeps his promises.
Miles used to repeat that phrase like a mantra, taking comfort from his unshakable conviction that he could count on Ripper to keep his word. I’d loved my cousin and losing him had broken my heart, but it hadn’t broken me. Maybe Ripper was right. Maybe I was tougher than I thought.
I tilted my face up to his. “What do we do?”
“We wait. Figure staying on the freeway gives us our best shot for connecting up with the others. River starts to rise higher we’ll head into the hills, but for now, we wait.”
“Okay.”
I turned around, so I faced oncoming traffic. Ripper wrapped his arms around my waist and held me tight, our bodies joined from knee to chest. I shivered, despite the warmth. There are no atheists in foxholes, according to the old adage. I’m not sure I believe that. Religion played no part in my life when I was growing up, and praying wasn’t second nature to me. Still, as I stared into the distance, my lips moved in a silent prayer.
Please, God. Please let them be all right.
TWO
Ripper
Never claimed to be a good man—shit, you want testimonials to that effect, I could provide you with a list as long as my arm—but I prided myself on being a man of integrity, a man who lived by a set of principles.
I thought you guys had a code, that you never left a man behind.
Yeah.
You don’t cut and run. You don’t save your own skin by abandoning your friends.
Mac had piled on, her accusations a bitter reproach.
Not so long ago, I wouldn’t have hesitated; I would’ve rushed back to try to save them. Not anymore. I would still risk my life to save an ally, but I wouldn’t risk hers. It was that simple. And nowadays, sacrifice had to make sense. Dying in defense of a principle—when my death wouldn’t change a damned thing—was a luxury I could no longer afford. I wouldn’t leave Mac alone to face the post-pandemic world.