t was just another busy afternoon at Walmart, with carts clattering and people rushing to get their groceries, until a tiny six-year-old girl ran straight into the arms of a giant biker in a Demons MC vest.
She was all teary and signing frantically. The biker, covered in tattoos and wearing a leather vest, answered her in fluent signs, calm and steady. Looking at them, some of the shoppers started stepping back.
“Call 911,” he told me. “There’s a kidnapped child here at the Henderson Walmart.”
