Reaper's Fire

EPILOGUE

NINE MONTHS LATER

HALLIES FALLS

GAGE

“Anyone got an extra pair of gloves?” Cord asked, holding up a torn leather work glove in disgust. We’d been clearing out debris from the old clubhouse for the entire morning, and while we hadn’t managed to salvage much, we were making good progress overall. This was important, because nearly fifty Reapers would be pulling into town next weekend to help us put up a new building. Our goal was to raise the clubhouse in four days. Totally doable, provided we did the right prep work in advance.

“I’ve got some,” I told him, mentally adding more work gloves to the supply list. The building hadn’t been covered by insurance, but we’d gotten a lot of support from the other chapters. Between their fundraising and our sweat equity, things were looking good. Walking over to my truck, I opened the tool box in the back, digging through as I searched for the gloves. Like everything in Hallies Falls these days, the truck was filthy. No matter how much we cleaned, the soot and ash clung to everything.

There were signs of life though, too.

New grass poked through the barren landscape, and the other day I’d seen a deer and her fawn carefully picking their way down a hillside. The sound of construction filled the air, and while we’d lost a huge chunk of the population, people were starting to come back and rebuild.

My phone rang, and I pulled off my glove, tucking it under my arm as I answered.

Tinker.

“Hey babe. We’re getting good work done here—”

“It’s time.”

I froze. “What? But I thought we had a couple more weeks?”

“Apparently not,” she said, her voice full of excitement. “Meet me at the hospital, okay? And shower first. Carrie’s driving me and we’re leaving now.”

“Okay,” I said, feeling almost dizzy. Fuck. It was too early. I still had so much to do, we hadn’t even finished painting the back bedroom, and . . . crap. This was happening. It was really happening. I had to pull my shit together, and fast. “All right. I’m headed to the house now. Is your dad with you, or should I give him a ride?”

“He’s with me,” she said, sounding happier than I’d ever heard her. “I can’t tell who’s more excited, me or him.”

“Drive safe,” I told her, but she’d already hung up. Then I turned to look at Cord, who’d come to stand next to me, a puzzled expression on his face.

“Everything okay?” he asked. I nodded slowly, trying to think.

“Yeah. The baby’s coming.”

“Now? But don’t you have a couple—?”

“Apparently nobody explained that to the kid,” I told him. “Stubborn already. I’m so fucked.”

Cord grinned at me, then slapped my back.

“Yeah, you really are.”

• • •

An hour and a half later I pulled into the Mid-Valley Hospital parking lot. I’d taken the fastest shower on record, but even pushing the upper edges of the speed limit, it still took a while to reach Omak. The whole thing still felt surreal, but also exciting. Tinker had been sending me updates every five minutes, and I could sense her mix of excitement and nerves.

She’d been waiting for this day her entire life, but she was scared, too. No matter how many times they told her the baby was perfectly healthy, she kept remembering Tricia.

All the ultrasounds looked great, though, which was a good thing. I wasn’t sure she could survive losing another child.

Tom Garrett met me in the lobby, leading the way to the maternity wing, smiling broadly the entire time. He was a thousand times better since he’d gotten off the meds. He still had his moments, of course, but we didn’t have to worry about him being alone anymore. Not that it was a big problem these days—he and Mary spent almost every minute together. When we’d told them about the baby, Mary had announced he’d be moving in with her to give us space, and that was the end of that.

“How’s she doing?” I asked, wiping my hands on my pants. Nervous sweat. Fuck. Kid wasn’t even born yet, but this whole father thing had me scared shitless.

“Great,” Tom said. “Tinker’s in with her. The labor’s going fast, especially for a first baby. And I have good news—she said you could be in the labor room if you want. So long as you stay up by her head. Guess she doesn’t want you seeing more than you need to.”

I swallowed, not sure how I felt about that. Tom laughed, seeing right through me.

“Do it, son,” he said. “I was there when Tinker was born. Back in those days they didn’t like having the father in the room, but Tricia was stubborn as hell. After an hour of arguing, they wised up and realized they should go ahead and give her what she wanted.

We signed in at the birthing center, which had impressive security. I liked that—meant some freak wouldn’t be able to walk off with our little girl. Then they opened the doors and Tom led the way to the birthing suite, and I heard a woman crying out.

“Stay strong, son,” Tom said, chuckling. “It’s not you who has to do the heavy lifting today.”

He knocked on the door, and Janelle Baxter opened it, her face tight with strain.

“Hey, Gage,” she said. “Sadie said you could come in, but she’d like you to stay up by her head. There’s a sheet, and if you happen to see too much, just don’t say anything about it, okay? This is a tough day for her.”

“She’s a brave young woman,” I said, meeting her gaze. “How’s she holding up?”

“Good,” Janelle responded. “It’ll be hard on her, I think we all know that. But it’s also the right decision. She isn’t having second thoughts.”

I swallowed, nodding my head. Tinker and I had discussed the possibility, of course, but neither of use liked thinking about it.

Inside the room, Sadie was on a bed that’d been tilted way up, with a bar hanging over it for her to hold on to. The midwife was sitting on stool between her widespread legs, and Tinker stood next to her, holding her hand. The midwife glanced up.

“Just in time,” she said. “This baby’s excited to be born—first births usually don’t go half this fast.”

Sadie was panting, her face utterly focused.

“There’s another one coming,” she gasped.