Bike Mechanic: 6. The Test

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6. The Test

It had been a long time since Seward had used the railroad cards. He read the question on the card he'd flipped over to himself a couple of times. He felt the answers flood back. It had been a simpler time when he'd written a plan for smuggling eco-fugitives, but most of the rules still applied. He wondered if the next station was even in tact. Susan could have moved. She might be more out of practice he was, and she might turn Inez down. Any number of things could go wrong. However, Seward had built a fragile system for a reason. He didn't want anyone to get hurt. Still, he didn't believe in running anyway. In a world that respected and created short-lived media-stars, the only way to truly draw attention to your cause was to get caught, go to trial, go to jail, and serve your time.

Seward had only built the railroad at Helen's request. Seward had loved her, and she had gone a long with his crazy stunts because she'd loved him. They'd planed a life together, but he'd needed to prove his values to a bunch of freshmen. He had let himself be arrested, and well, that was that.

He put the card down. "Fuck the test. Just talk to me." He brushed the cards into a pile, straightened them by tapping them on the counter, and sealed them back in the leather box. The test seemed distant and unreal, a hippy's dream. He liked to think of himself as a businessman now, someone who thought through things with reason and logic and didn't act on his passions.

"Why did you run?"

Inez looked around. "Can we sit?"

"Sure." Seward motioned for her to come around the counter. He had three barstools behind the counter. He got up on one. "I'm just so used to standing all day that I forget that I have these."

"I…" Inez paused while she moved a seat closer. "I…The bomb that I used should have only taken out the plant's pumps. No big deal right. But something happened and it raised the building."

"Shit."

"I'll be charged and tried as a domestic terrorist, A.K.A, Timothy McVeigh and Terry Nichols. You know the Oklahoma City bombers who took out the Federal building."

"Sure, I could see the charges being steep, but you didn't kill anyone did you?"

Inez sucked on her lower lip.

"Did you?"

"The bomb killed 5 people."

Seward's mouth hung open. He knew that sometimes people got hurt when activist went too far. He'd known the risks. It was why he'd always hit small operations at night because he'd know they wouldn't have a third shift.

Inez sobbed. Her body shook. Hugging herself tightly, purple rivers of dark mascara ran down the sides of her nose. She started to gasp as if hyperventilating.

Seward asked himself why evolution had hardwired him with a sympathy-gene for desperate women that triggered an irrational savior complex. He'd never killed anyone. He counted all of the destruction he'd caused over the years, and somehow he'd managed to only ever cripple machines. Even though he was thinking that he should call the cops and turn her in himself – perhaps they'd finally stop watching him – his body was up and moving. He found himself hugging her tightly to him. "Don't worry." Seward murmured. "We'll get you safely away."