by Mitch Goth
The drive to the gas station was a short one. Feeling rather drained and with the aches of the recent car accident beginning to set in, Nate and Mike went into the connected convenient store to get energy shots. Meanwhile, Bobby and Taylor stayed out to pump the gas.
“Hey look,” Mike said, observing a small shelf near the door of the store, “they make bacon flavored energy shots.”
“No,” Nate shook his head immediately after seeing the sight. “Plain is all we need.”
“You lack adventure, Nate.”
“All I lack is the desire to vomit.”
“Loser,” Mike sighed, coming away from the shot stand.
“Sasshole,” Nate retorted, putting a handful of regular energy shots on the counter.
“What the hell is a sasshole?”
“No clue,” Nate shrugged, “I heard Cady say it once.”
“That sounds like something she’d say. Maybe you can ask her when we find her.”
“If we do.”
“When we do, Nate. When. You’re too much of a glass half empty guy.”
“And let me guess, you’re glass is always half full?”
“No, actually, my glass is always completely fully. One half is water, one half is air. It doesn’t matter what’s in it, the point is it’s always full.”
“Scintillating.”
“You know, Nathan, a consuming hope of mine is that you come through tonight a changed man.”
“Really? My consuming hope is that I come through tonight an alive man.”
Nate paid for the shots and walked towards the door. He stalled just before going out.
“What?” Mike asked.
“What the hell is he doing?” Nate stared out into the parking lot in bewilderment.
About the time Nate and Mike entered the store to buy the energy drinks, Bobby began putting gas into his wounded vehicle. His eyes wandered upward to the gaping hole in the roof.
“I’m sorry about that,” Taylor joined him beside the car.
“This poor car, man,” Bobby shook his head and reached into his pocket. He pulled out a crushed pack of cigarettes and slid one stick out of the pack and stuck it between his lips. The pack disappeared and was replaced with a shiny Zippo. He flicked the lighter open but struggled to light it.
“What are you doing?” Taylor wondered, taking a step back.
“Beginning to doubt the big lighter corporations, why?” Bobby replied.
Taylor didn’t respond, but took another step back.
“The air just doesn’t light on fire well enough,” he grunted.
“That sounds like a good thing.”
“Not in this situation.”
Just then, the pump jolted and gas stopped flowing. But just as the nozzle came out of the car, Bobby’s eyebrow went up. He held the nozzle up to his nose. No surprise, the stench of gasoline was overwhelming. The nozzle was shifted down in front of the cigarette in his mouth and fumes billowed from it. After a moment, he held the lighter up once more and flicked it. Still nothing. He tried again, but even with the help of gasoline fumes, the Zippo wouldn’t carry a flame. His persistence went on anyway.
“No,” Nate approached quickly. “Hell no.”
“It’ll work, I just need more spark,” Bobby insisted.
“I don’t want it to work.”
“Well I do.”
Mike walked over as well. He snatched the lighter from Bobby’s hand.
“What is wrong with you?” he wondered.
“Hey, my car is shot to hell, excuse me for needing a smoke.”
“You can’t smoke out here.”
“I don’t see any signs.”
“It’s implied!”
“Implied?” Bobby scoffed, the unlit cigarette bobbing in his mouth.
It looked like he was ready to continue on some sort of tirade on the idiocy of implied restriction when an all too familiar sound cut through the darkness. A bullet blew the cigarette right out of Bobby’s mouth and continued past the group to shatter the glass panel on the convenient store door. The bright headlights of Josh and Adnan’s truck shown a few blocks down, and the engine roared to life.
“Oh shit,” Nate exclaimed.
“Oh shit!” Mike mimicked, facing the other direction. From his view, he was able to see the store clerk come bursting through the shattered door, large pistol in hand. Mike pulled the whole group downward just in time for the clerk’s bullets to fly over them and head the truck’s direction. The truck returned fire, breaking more windows.
Just then, the lights on Bobby’s car lit up. His engine came to life as well. And before Nate, Mike or Taylor knew what happened, it was squealing out of the parking lot.
“That bastard!” Nate said.
“He’ll come back for us,” Taylor assured.
“Bullshit!”
“Let’s discuss this later!” Mike pulled both of them away from the now empty gas pump and over to the side of the building and effectively into cover.
The clerk and the truck continued exchanging fire. The clerk took a flurry of shots as the truck barreled closer and went down. Although, he didn’t go down without piercing the windshield of the truck, creating long spider web cracks, blinding both occupants.
The massive vehicle rolled right over the curb and collided with a nearby pump, uprooting it from its cement base. Fuel spewed from the ground and quickly coated the asphalt around them.
It was about this time that Mike recalled he still held Bobby’s lighter. He flicked it once. Nothing. He tried again. Still no flame.
Adnan and Josh had gotten out of the truck now and searched the area, guns drawn.
“What the hell do we do now?” Taylor asked distraughtly.
“I’m working on it,” Mike continued trying to light the lighter.
“Fuck this,” Nate saw his friend’s lack of progress and jumped thoughtlessly into action. He sprang out from the side of the building and sprinted for the unmanned gun the clerk had left behind.
Just as Nate sprinted around the corner, Bobby’s cumbersome Zippo burst to life. Mike, also thoughtlessly, hurled the tiny piece of metal towards the flowing petrol.
Taylor, seeing both these actions, acted as fast and, of course, thoughtlessly as she could (are you seeing a trend here?). She too hurled herself around the corner and tried to catch up to Nate.
Both Adnan and Josh caught on to what was occurring. Adnan spotted Nate and Taylor, he raised his gun and began setting his sights on them. Josh, however, caught first glimpse of the lighter flying through the air and, quickly realizing he was ankle deep in fuel, sprinted far and away.
Nate lunged for the weapon and his nimble hands were quick to grasp it. He threw himself in the direction of Adnan and fired blind shots. They were far off from the target, but they were enough to throw Adnan off his aim and get him to duck for cover. It was during this moment of attempted hiding that Adnan finally laid eyes on the shiny lighter falling in his direction.
Taylor grabbed Nate by the back of his shirt and with all her power threw him as far back in the other direction as she could, letting his momentum carry her along for the ride. They landed just short of the corner of the building. But Mike was there to snatch them up and begin pulling them just as the lighter reached the ground and the fumes that’d piled up met its flame.
The whole station went up in an instant. Adnan was engulfed in a massive flash of fire and thick, tar-colored smoke. All the other pumps were lit and took their turns exploding in a flurry of unbearable heat and twisted metal shrapnel. Unable to hold the propulsion of the explosion, the large ceiling above the pumps came tumbling down into the smoke and sent the fire and tall black billows firing in all directions before it encircled the felled ceiling. By now the flames towered nearly twenty feet high and smoke chugged ever upwards and spread out into the night sky.
The three fortunate survivors of the blast stood up and sprinted out into the street, finding their old hiding place caked in broiling air and dense smoke. A
s soon as their eyes stopped burning, they all looked in awe at what they’d just created.
Taylor put a hand over her face in disbelief.
“Sweet Jesus,” Nate said breathlessly, still holding the clerk’s pistol at his side.
“Yes!” Mike exclaimed, stomping triumphantly around and throwing his fists in the air. “That was a perfect throw! Did you guys see that! Fucking perfect! How’s that for fireworks? Yes!” he began dancing jubilantly around the street, and started speaking to his fallen adversary. “Oh, you’re strong? You’ve got guns? We’ve got fucking gas stations! You’re from the Mid-East? WELL WELCOME TO THE MIDWEST! BITCH!”
“I must say, the lyrics to this particular victory chant are rather vulgar, but the choreography is charming,” a familiar voice came from behind them.
All three spun swiftly to see Bobby standing next to his car with a smirk.
“Where the hell did you go?” Nate questioned.
“I needed to save my car, she’s seen enough hell today. But it looks like you guys had it covered,” he looked up at the towering smoke cloud behind them.
“Oh yeah, man!” Mike said, continuing his hopping around. “You shoulda seen it, Bobs, the perfect throw. I tossed that lighter so smooth. Fuck the yips!”
“Wait, my lighter?”
“Yes sir. I suggest you get one that’s not so hard to light.”
“I’ll remember that next time terrorists chase us around town.”
“Did we get any of them?” Taylor asked, still shaken.
“The fella without the glasses is toast,” Nate replied.
“Are you sure?”
“Well, seeing he was directly under the massive cement slab of a ceiling when it came down, not to mention right in the middle of a massive explosion, I’d say I’m pretty sure.”
“Wow,” Bobby chuckled, “I need to hang out with you guys more often. Do you guys do stuff like this a lot?”
“No,” Nate sighed, walking around to the passenger door of the car, “now let’s go.”
“Fair enough. I reloaded the blunderbuss by the way.”
“I don’t think we’ll need it. We’ve got a real gun now,” Nate flashed the clerk’s pistol.
“Snazzy.”
Before the conversation could continue, the group got into the car and Bobby was fast with his getaway. Just as the lights of the Impala faded from the scene, the sound of fire truck sirens sounded in the distance.
9
