50 Bikers Surrounded A Rookie Cop At A Gas Station Then Dropped To Their Knees

He didn’t speak at first. Just studied Ryan’s face like he was looking at a ghost.

“You look just like him,” the man said quietly.

“Excuse me?”

The man looked down at Ryan’s badge. Read the name. Closed his eyes for a moment.

Then he lowered himself to one knee. Bowed his head.

Ryan took a step back. “Sir, you don’t have to—”

Another biker walked forward. Same thing. Looked at Ryan’s face. Looked at the badge. Knelt.

Then another. And another.

Ryan stood frozen with a styrofoam coffee cup while nearly fifty men knelt in front of him on the cracked asphalt of a gas station parking lot.

Nobody spoke. Some of the men had tears on their faces.

“What’s happening?” Ryan whispered.

The president raised his head. “Your father saved every man in this parking lot. And he made us promise to never tell you how.”

Ryan’s hand tightened around the coffee cup. “My father?”

“Jack Decker. Sergeant with the county sheriff’s department. Died eleven years ago.”

“I know who my father was.”