Free Telemachus Rising by Pierce Youatt

be stranded in the middle of the north woods with an empty tank.  Meanwhile, I had no choice.  We had to keep moving.  The next gas station had to be closer than the last one.  We'd never make it back with what was left in the tank.  Maybe if I had turned around immediately the moment I'd looked at the fuel gauge, but now?  It was no use worrying about what decisions I could've made.  I thought we would make it to a gas station, and we had.  I had been right.  We were sitting at a gas station.  How could I have known they wouldn't have twenty-four hour pumps?  
    We headed back toward the on ramp.  My eyes flicked back and forth between the fuel gauge and the road as we traveled along the deserted highway.  A couple times I thought I heard the engine misfire, like we were about to run out of gas.  I'd never run dry in that car.  For all I knew, we were running on fumes.  I reduced speed again.  The car's slower progress added to the suspense as I peered ahead into the darkness, searching for a sign pointing to the next gas station.  Every mile marker had my stomach in knots.  With my window down at our reduced speed, I could hear the noises of the woods over the wind.  I started to feel sick as I ran through the list of things that could go wrong at that point.
    The needle on the fuel gauge reached E, but the car kept moving.  I felt a final surge of hope when I remembered that some reservoirs held back half a gallon of gas in reserve, beyond the limit of the fuel gauge.  We weren't safe yet, though.  I breathed a little easier when I saw the next sign for a gas station appear on the shoulder of the road.  Could we make it?  Would the station be closed like the last one if we did?  The engine sputtered as we hit the exit.  I wasn't imagining it this time.  The tank was dry, and that was final.  I gritted my teeth and let the car fly around the off ramp in neutral, touching the brakes as little as possible.  I had no idea when the engine would cut.  I wasn't thinking about the fact that the car would lose power steering if the engine died, but we made it around the curve before that happened.  Skidding off the road into the trees in the middle of the night would've ended more than our road trip at the speed we were going.
    As we made the narrow two lane road and the trees blocking our view cleared away, I saw the flood lights of a gas station parking lot in the distance.  The engine was giving one last gasp as it choked on fumes.  I slid the car back into gear and floored the accelerator, but nothing happened.  There was still hope, though.  The station was in sight.  The lights were promising.  The road was flat and straight.
    We were going about forty-five miles an hour when the engine died.  I put the car back into neutral and began to pray.  We covered half the distance faster than I had reason to hope.  In the panic of the engine cutting, I had overestimated the distance in my head.  I realized we might just make it.  Our speed dropped more rapidly than I'd expected, but we were still moving.  At that point, I probably could've gotten out and pushed if I really had to.
    In the end, there was no reason to worry.  It took some muscle to turn the wheel, but we coasted to a stop right next to a pump.  While there weren't any lights on inside the building, this station had automated credit card readers.  Thank god.  I left the pump running and excused myself to pee in the grass next to the parking lot.  I'd been so preoccupied with having an empty tank, I hadn't noticed my full one.  The road trip gods had smiled on us.  I swore to myself that I'd buy a gas can as soon as we got home.  I'd never go anywhere without a couple of extra gallons in the trunk.  I steered us toward Copper Harbor both relieved and re-energized.
    It began to get lighter as I drove.  The black of night turned into a deep black blue, then navy.  The stars were less clear, but I could begin to make out