Gary ‘Gearhead’'s Arc

Chapter 1 of 15

Gary dropped the wrench and turned toward the fence line. A man stumbled into view, one hand pressed against his side where blood seeped through his fingers. The stranger's other arm clutched a metal case tight against his chest. He took three more steps before his knees buckled and he went down hard in the dirt. Gary stood still and watched the tree line beyond the fence. Nothing moved yet, but wounded men didn't show up alone by accident. He scanned the horizon for dust clouds or the glint of metal, then looked back at the stranger sprawled near his property line. The case lay beside him in the dirt, scratched steel with heavy clasps. Gary had seen cargo worth killing for before. This looked like it. He grabbed a rusted wall panel from the scrap pile and dragged it toward the fence, metal scraping against concrete. It wouldn't stop bullets, but it might buy him a few seconds if someone came looking. The stranger groaned and tried to lift his head. Gary kicked the case closer to the panel, then crouched beside it. The clasps were locked, but the weight felt wrong—too light for ammunition, too heavy for paper. He looked at the blood trail leading into his yard, then at the open ground beyond. His scrapyard had been vulnerable yesterday. Today it was a target. The stranger coughed blood and grabbed Gary's boot. His eyes opened halfway. Gary pulled his foot back and stared at the man's face, then at the horizon again. He could drag the stranger inside his trailer and lock the door. He could leave him where he fell and pretend he never saw anything. But the case changed things. Whatever was inside had brought killers to his fence line, and now Gary had to decide if he was the kind of man who turned away problems or the kind who built something worth protecting. He lifted the stranger under the arms and started dragging him toward the trailer.