including a tight shot of Jeff and a little of Bryce’s backside, which I thought was funny. I couldn’t wait to show him.
“Many have come to know this young man, Jeff Alexander, through his column in a local newspaper,” the reporter said. “Some have even made per-mile donation pledges to fight cancer on his behalf. But today, Jeff is fighting to make his dream become a reality.”
Leigh walked in and joined us to watch.
The report showed Jeff being helped from his parents’ van and a group of riders staring at the rain. Looking exhausted, Jeff stood in a patch of light at the barn’s edge. His face was pale as a ghost’s.
“We’ve come a long way,” Jeff said, “but we’ve got farther to go. I don’t want to let anybody down. I just hope I can finish.”
Mom wiped away a tear. Leigh just stared. It was strange watching a friend of mine on TV. The last shot showed Bryce and Jeff looking out at the rain. The news showed a phone number for people who wanted to contribute.
I wanted to ask Leigh what she thought, but I didn’t want to get into another fight. Dylan came in with two eggbeaters, pretending he was holding a microphone and singing some song he had made up.
A picture flashed on the screen and I yelled, “Quiet!” Dylan’s lip quivered and he ran out. I felt bad, but I couldn’t help it. The picture was of Gunnar.
“New evidence tonight in the disappearance of a Red Rock man missing more than two weeks. Police say Gunnar Roberts was at a local grocery store the day before he went missing. An investigation of Roberts’s vehicle, found submerged in a nearby lake, led authorities to a receipt from the store. A surveillance video clearly shows the man in the store.
“Red Rock police ask that you call the number on the screen if you have any information on his whereabouts.”
Chapter 68
The clouds finally broke, and the temperature warmed. We headed to the top of Wilkerson Pass, which is a whole lot easier to talk about than actually do. On several stretches I had to get off and push, and I admit there were times when I almost took the others up on their offers to trade places. Gary rode alongside, his leg muscles bulging as he pushed toward the summit, all the time urging me on and telling Jeff to just hang in there.
When we finally got to the welcome center, everybody clapped and raised their fists. My legs were as wobbly as an old chair. We were almost at 10,000 feet, and it felt like I had carried the bike the whole way. Jeff looked worn out too, but he still smiled. People crowded around him and took pictures.
“It’s pretty much downhill from here, isn’t it?” Jeff said.
Gary nodded. “We’ll camp tonight at Lake George, about 2,000 feet below us. Colorado Springs is about 40 more miles from there.”
It seemed as if we coasted into Lake George, a really small town with one motel, one store, and some areas for camping. I ate burgers from the grill. Jeff took his medicine and said he wasn’t hungry.
When the sun went down, the stars shone brighter than anywhere else I’d ever seen them. Maybe it was getting through all those clouds that did it, but it looked like you could reach out and touch them.
We were in our sleeping bags, staring out the tent flap, when Jeff said, “Do you think angels can see us?”
“Another bad joke?”
“No, I mean it. Are there angels up there right now who can look at us?”
I shrugged. “Why would they? I can think of about a million better things to do.”
“But there are guardian angels, right? Ones God sends to protect people?”
“I believe in those,” I said, reminding him about Sam and Ashley and Dylan and me plunging into the lake in our car and almost not getting out alive. “I think angels were right there with us.”
Jeff smiled. “Mine’s named Todd.”
“Excuse me?”
“That’s what I call him. He doesn’t talk to me or anything, but I know he’s there.”
“Well, tell Todd good night for me.”
Chapter
Brittney Cohen-Schlesinger