‘Snake Riders,’ the big man grumbled.
A wave of laughter swept through the room.
‘Snakes…’ someone chuckled. ‘Good heavens, kindergarten.’
‘How old are you?’ Walter continued without batting an eyelid. ‘Twenty? Twenty-two? Eighteen?’
‘I’m twenty-four,’ the redhead grunted, trying to regain his composure. ‘And I don’t give a damn who you are.’
‘Twenty-four,’ Walter repeated. ‘Do you know how old I was when I pulled my comrade out of the water at Incheon? Nineteen. When we buried a guy at Dondon who didn’t even have time to send a letter home? Twenty. We were loud too. But at least we knew who to respect.’
He tapped his cane on the floor.
‘You broke into the establishment of a woman who feeds half the city and decided to make fun of an old man. That’s not courage. That’s emptiness.’ He leaned forward. ‘But I can see in your eyes that you’re always looking for someone to take you in.’
Silence.
‘So,’ Walter continued. ‘We’ll take you. But on our terms.’
‘What do you mean, “take us”?’ the redhead didn’t understand.
Jim took a bundle of black cloth from the inside pocket of his waistcoat and threw it on the table.
‘The founder said we’re taking it. So we’re taking it,’ he said.
The Snake Riders looked at each other in confusion. Run away? Too late. Get into a fight? Against twenty veterans who, even without weapons, had years of combat experience?
‘What… what are the rules?’ the big man asked hoarsely.
Walter smiled for the first time that morning.
— First: don’t touch old people.
— Second: don’t touch women.
— Third: pay for the damage.
He turned to Maggie.
‘How much did they consume?’
‘I… I don’t…’ she stammered.
‘Everything they ate and drank is on them,’ Walter said. ‘And a monthly allowance for stress.’
The redhead gritted his teeth but reached for his wallet.
‘And fourth,’ Walter added, ‘starting today, you’ll come to the veterans’ home on Sundays and wash their bikes. Yes, the old men ride. Better than you do.’
‘Come on…’ one of the young men began.
Jim just raised an eyebrow.
‘Is there a problem?’
‘No,’ he hissed.
Walter nodded, satisfied.
‘Excellent. You had the opportunity to become nothing. I’m giving you the chance to become someone. Not because you deserve it, but because I’m too old to watch young people become completely stupid.’
The veterans laughed.
The bikers stood up. They paid, gritting their teeth and blushing. But they paid. Because twenty people were watching them, people who had looked death in the face and not flinched — which meant they wouldn’t flinch here either.
When the doors behind Snake Riders closed, Maggie leaned on the bar.
‘Walt… What was that all about?’ she exhaled. ‘You said you hadn’t ridden in a long time.’
The old man winked.
‘I said I don’t ride. But I didn’t say they don’t listen to me.’
The veterans were already ordering coffee and pies, as if it were their regular Sunday meeting.
Walter sat back down at his table. He picked up his fork.
‘By the way, Meg,’ he called out. ‘This Sunday, add five more to the list for the veterans’ discount.’
Walter sat down at his table again. He picked up his fork.
‘By the way, Meg,’ he called out. ‘This Sunday, add five more people to the list for the veterans’ discount.’
‘But they’re not veterans,’ she said, surprised.
‘They will be,’ said Walter, looking out the window, where five confused but no longer so cocky young men were starting their motorcycles. ‘Everyone should have the opportunity to become better.’
He brought the cooled coffee to his lips, took a sip, and smiled — the kind of smile people have when they really do have an army, if they ever need it.