later than any of them expected. Running dangerously low on fuel, Tom
decided they would have to stop at the first gas station they could find. He would have much preferred to get well clear of the
city, but far too much fuel was spent traversing the chaotic streets.
Reaching
the I-84 freeway, Tom saw a gas station just across the road that would have to
do. It was a large, fancy station, with a long line of pumps sitting nearly
empty. There was a small hatchback at the far end, and a pickup in the middle,
with its driver side door wide open. He did not see any people, living or
dead, in the parking lot. As he was pulling into the lot, he thought he saw
movement from within the attached convenience store. Going to have to keep
an eye on the store , he thought to himself.
Easing
to a stop next to one of the pumps, he shut off the engine, and listened through
his open window. Keying the intercom that Rachael discovered in the camper, he
whispered to those in the back, “Hold for a bit.” Over the creak of a sign
swaying in the breeze, he could hear sporadic gunfire in the distance. Good,
there were others surviving and hopefully dishing out some hurt. Other than
the boaters, he had not seen any survivors along the way, so they must be few
and far between, or really hunkered down.
Not
wanting any surprises while he filled up, he continued to sit, checking his
mirrors and watching the store, trying to peer through the glare on the
windows. Maybe the movement he saw was just his imagination or a shifting
reflection. After one final glance in his empty mirrors, he gave the all clear
over the intercom. Grabbing his M4, he climbed out of the Unimog.
Taking
his eyes off the storefront, he looked over to see Hank coming around the back.
Rachael had gotten his face and arms all cleaned up, only small pink slashes
remained.
Hank
slung a large rifle over his shoulder and started climbing the external ladder
leading to the Unimog’s roof. “I’ll cover your slow ass.”
“I’m
going inside to fire up the pump.” Tom replied.
He
watched Rachael walking away, the bookstore lady’s shotgun in her hands. At
the convention center, she said she felt comfortable with it, so they had found
her more ammo. Tom knew when they got a chance he would need to train her on more
effective weapons, but for now it would have to do.
Tom
walked across the hot pavement, rifle at the ready, keeping his eyes trained on
the glass door. Once to the door, he pressed his face to the glass, using his
hands to block the glare, and get a better look at the inside. Several long
aisles filled with snacks, magazines, and trinkets stretched across the store
to the beverage refrigerators at the end. Nobody was in sight. Near the back,
he could see some items spilled out across the floor, knocked from their
shelves.
Figuring
there should be at least three people around here somewhere, he was very
careful in easing the door open. Hatchback, Pickup, and Attendant had to be somewhere;
Tom just hoped to find them before they found him.
Stepping
inside the store, Tom checked his corners and moved swiftly adjacent to the
aisles, keeping his rifle up, scanning for targets. The final aisle had items
spilled to the floor and a small pool of blood, but nobody in sight. He spun
around and cleared behind the checkout counter, again nothing.
He
was sure there would be restrooms and maybe an office down the back hallway,
but figured there was no reason to push his luck. Stepping next to the till he
turned on the pump, and then headed for the door. Nearly there, he heard
something and froze.
Listening
intently he heard it again. It sounded like a shuffling noise, maybe something
sliding across the floor in the back.
Trying
to decide what to do, after a beat he let out a sigh, knowing he could not just
walk away. He had to know if it was someone needing help. Spinning around, he
raised the M4, and began walking down the back hall, listening for the noise.
The hall was