Saving Motley Crue

Chapter Twelve- Shelter

There really was a copper -orange light illuminating a structure up ahead that appeared to be a house.

"Yes! Come on, Nikki, it's not too far away, try to stand up. We'll help you walk there." Hope summoning energy back into my limbs, I gently lifted Nikki up into a sitting position, with him clutching his head with one hand and eyes halfway slitted open. I wondered passingly how much of his head injury affecting him now had to do with the emotional trauma of losing Mick. Each sidling up on one side of Nikki to support him, Tommy and I helped him up into a standing position. Once again I realized just how large he was compared to me.

We managed to make it to what turned out to be a simple log cabin, with the beginning of the walk and the end being the hardest on Nikki. When we were standing impatiently on the cute wood, wrap-around porch waiting for someone to answer the door, I could feel Nikki's harsh, irregular breathing on the side of my neck. " I don't know how much longer I can stand." He whispered to me through clenched teeth, and I nervously knocked louder on the door. Just as I was shouting if anyone was inside, the door swung open.

"Oh my! Come inside, come inside!" The man who emerged and beckoned us inside upon seeing Nikki's state was a small-framed man in his sixties.

Neither me or Tommy dared to question his hospitality just yet, as we just wanted to set Nikki down before he collapsed. Shuffling into the warmly lit living room with him, we slowly lowered Nikki onto the leather couch, wincing at the low groan of pain that escaped his lips as we did so.

"I'll get something for his head." The man said concernedly before hurrying into the kitchen. Tommy and I exchanged a dubious glance before finally deciding to just sit down ourselves, exhaustion overruling any doubts we held.

"Oh, dude . . . imagine if we hadn't found a place. We'd be toast for sure." Tommy slouched down in the armchair so he was splayed over it like a wet noodle.

"You're right about that. What even is this place, anyway? It sure didn't look this nice on the outside."

"Or cultish." Tommy muttered, pointing to the painting of a herald on the wall across from us, and the large sun-outline around two clasped hands.

"Well don't judge the guy already. He is helping us, after all."

"That's why I'm judging him."

I playfully hit Tommy's arm at the last comment when the man came swiftly back into the room with a bowl of supplies. The first thing he did was to gently place a cool towel over Nikki's forehead, and I surmised it was to bring down the fever. Once he drew out a needle to stitch up the wound, Tommy and I exchanged one look before excusing ourselves, "Can we go wash up?"

"Of course you may. The bathroom is on the left downstairs, and the guest bedroom is upstairs." The man answered kindly without looking away from what he was doing. Hm . . . a fascinating guy indeed- I had never met someone so generous to strangers. But it surely couldn't be a bad thing.

Tommy and I ended up going upstairs and sitting cross-legged on the bed in the guest room. Now that it seemed we were out of immediate danger, my mind began to slow down from its frenetic pace, and I'm sure Tommy's did too . . . we fell silent as our thoughts returned to Vince's loss, and then Mick.

"We'll go back for them. Both of them." I gazed earnestly at Tommy, who was occupying his hands with picking grass and burs from the bottom of his pant legs, but whose expression changed at my words.

Finally he just said softly, "How do you know we will?"

"Because they'll have to kill me before I stop trying."