The Last Handful of Clover - Book 3: The Stone in the Stream

3.14 The Saint at the Pump

"What's going on?" Keith asked, leaning up from the back seat.

"I'm not sure," Michelle said, slowing the car. She pulled it to a stop in the street. "It looks like they're lined up for gas."

Pil could see that there was a Sinclair station at the end of the block, and he recognized it as one he had used regularly. He recalled that there was a 7-11 convenience store attached to it. Even from where they were stopped he could see the green and white dinosaur logo, partially obscured by a modest cottonwood tree.

Michelle was right. The far end of the line snaked into a single pump at the gas station, and even as he watched, the front car pulled out and the next one moved forward. Each of the cars rolled quickly ahead to fill the gap, and the line was motionless once again.

It seemed strange that a gas station would be operational in this kind of crisis. And stranger still that in all this chaos, people were acting civilly and waiting their turn at the pump.

"How's our gas situation?" Pil asked, leaning over to look at the dashboard.

Michelle caught his eye and then glanced at the passengers in the rear-view mirror. "I didn't want to say anything, but we have less than a half tank," Michelle said.

"Is that enough to get us to Ogden?" Keith asked.

"Probably," Michelle said.

There was silence in the car. They all knew that "probably" wasn't good enough.

"It's only going to get us there," Howard finally said, breaking the tension, "if we don't run into any problems along the way. And I don't think that's something we should count on."

A second car pulled out of the gas station, and a third one pulled up to the pump. They sat in silence, watching the other cars move forward. Pil counted that there were now nine.

"It looks like the line is moving pretty quickly," Michelle said. "Maybe they're rationing. Do you think we should wait?"

Pil bit at his fingernail. "Considering the destruction we saw on the way here, it's a miracle they're open. I say we take advantage of it."

Everyone quickly agreed, and Michelle made a u-turn in the street, and then another. She pulled into the line behind the last car, shut off the engine, and the car fell silent.

Pil looked around the neighborhood. There was only one body here. It was in the street, and it looked mangled like a rag doll, as if it had been run over repeatedly. In fact, as he looked, he could see skid marks on the pavement, and what looked like the muddy tracks left by a big vehicle. Perhaps an army truck? Had the military been here earlier, before they all pulled out?

As he looked at the scene, he couldn't help but think that even with all the devastation the city had experienced, this particular moment was oddly quiet. In many ways, the busy city had become more like a ghost town. There was almost no traffic now, and the number of people on this street corner was limited to those waiting in the line at the gas station, and a few others hurrying from place to place, furtively, like thieves running from cover to cover. A stiff breeze had come up, which had cleared almost all the smoke from the area. The sky was brilliant blue, and the sun was warm on the arm Pil had hanging out of the open window.

While they waited, two more cars pulled out ahead of them, and their Toyota moved closer to the front of the line. Pil tried to count the cars, but he couldn't see exactly how many there were from the passenger seat.

In that moment, something hit Pil that felt almost like a premonition. He suddenly felt that he had to get out of the car, and that there was no way for them to protect themselves if danger should approach while he was wedged into this seat like a sardine in a can.