was a man on the edge of the lot, wiping down the windshield of his car. This, however, didn't do much to relieve the cloud of decay that hung over the area. The owner probably spent a lot of time cursing the corporations for ruining his business.
All of them wondered why Anthony had suggested they come here. The one car was occupied, there were no real foods for sale in the store, and they didn't exactly need gas. Sarah was starting to believe that Anthony was leading them to a shady deal with one of his criminal friends. After his backpack-swapping trick, she didn't trust him in the least.
The center of attention for the group as they entered was none of these things, but a much stranger discovery. There was a spit of grass on the left side of the lot, separating the station from the road. There were no pumps on this side, probably as a safety measure. About halfway up, Alex noticed something odd: the remnants of what looked like police tape. Near the tape, a chalk marking had been made on the asphalt. It didn't take them long to know that it was the outline of a body.
Alex knelt to examine the marking, noting as he did that it appeared to be fairly old—the police must have visited a while ago. The man had been of average height, and slightly overweight, but other than that Alex could see nothing special.
"Jesus…" Jake said. "What a place to die, huh?"
"Who do you think it was?" Sarah asked.
"I don't know!" Alex said. "How should any of us know? It could have been anybody."
Anthony was not looking at the outline. He had seen them before, and it brought back bad memories. In fact, it brought things to the surface of his mind that he hadn't seen in years: the sound of a gunshot, the shout of a dying man. He walked away from the others to clear his head.
Alex, deciding that nothing more could be learned from studying the former crime scene, began to wander the lot, his eyes resting on the car on the far side. He loitered by the pumps, watching the owner. He had finished wiping the windshield, and was now working on the driver's side window. It was pointless work, as the car was covered in dirt, and no amount of wiping could get it clean.
"Anthony," he called.
When they were close enough to speak confidentially, Alex whispered, "That's our car."
Anthony was understandably surprised. "That piece of crap? That won't get us to Ottawa. I bet we could walk faster."
"Yes, but you realize that would require us to walk . More than a thousand miles."
"Whoa! Whoa! I never said I'd come with you for the whole trip."
"Listen. We've been over this. When you got on that boat, you signed on for the long haul. Any questions?"
"God damn you…I'll get the car."
"Good." Alex turned to face Sarah and Jake, still knelt over the death site. "Hey, if you two are finished gawking, we have a job to do."
The man who owned the car, Wayne Eidson, owner and operator, Transit Quality Fuel, was watching the kids with unease. Sure, they were only kids, but he had a bad feeling about them. Two of them were talking by pump seven, and the shorter one appeared to be the leader. Possibly because of his overall possessiveness of the car, or because of his general paranoia, but he thought they had designs on his vehicle. The way they were talking, as if scheming. He supposed he was just still jumpy, as he had been ever since that guy got shot in his parking lot. The police had thought it was a bunch of kids who killed a lady in Quebec City, although he was at a loss as to how they did it.
They did, eventually, come to talk with him. Two of them, the leader and the girl, told them they wanted to buy something from the store, and they followed him inside. Indoors, he remembered that he had left his car door open to wash the interior window. This didn't help his premonitions.
Alex and Sarah immediately saw that they were going to have some problems. The selection of goods
All of them wondered why Anthony had suggested they come here. The one car was occupied, there were no real foods for sale in the store, and they didn't exactly need gas. Sarah was starting to believe that Anthony was leading them to a shady deal with one of his criminal friends. After his backpack-swapping trick, she didn't trust him in the least.
The center of attention for the group as they entered was none of these things, but a much stranger discovery. There was a spit of grass on the left side of the lot, separating the station from the road. There were no pumps on this side, probably as a safety measure. About halfway up, Alex noticed something odd: the remnants of what looked like police tape. Near the tape, a chalk marking had been made on the asphalt. It didn't take them long to know that it was the outline of a body.
Alex knelt to examine the marking, noting as he did that it appeared to be fairly old—the police must have visited a while ago. The man had been of average height, and slightly overweight, but other than that Alex could see nothing special.
"Jesus…" Jake said. "What a place to die, huh?"
"Who do you think it was?" Sarah asked.
"I don't know!" Alex said. "How should any of us know? It could have been anybody."
Anthony was not looking at the outline. He had seen them before, and it brought back bad memories. In fact, it brought things to the surface of his mind that he hadn't seen in years: the sound of a gunshot, the shout of a dying man. He walked away from the others to clear his head.
Alex, deciding that nothing more could be learned from studying the former crime scene, began to wander the lot, his eyes resting on the car on the far side. He loitered by the pumps, watching the owner. He had finished wiping the windshield, and was now working on the driver's side window. It was pointless work, as the car was covered in dirt, and no amount of wiping could get it clean.
"Anthony," he called.
When they were close enough to speak confidentially, Alex whispered, "That's our car."
Anthony was understandably surprised. "That piece of crap? That won't get us to Ottawa. I bet we could walk faster."
"Yes, but you realize that would require us to walk . More than a thousand miles."
"Whoa! Whoa! I never said I'd come with you for the whole trip."
"Listen. We've been over this. When you got on that boat, you signed on for the long haul. Any questions?"
"God damn you…I'll get the car."
"Good." Alex turned to face Sarah and Jake, still knelt over the death site. "Hey, if you two are finished gawking, we have a job to do."
The man who owned the car, Wayne Eidson, owner and operator, Transit Quality Fuel, was watching the kids with unease. Sure, they were only kids, but he had a bad feeling about them. Two of them were talking by pump seven, and the shorter one appeared to be the leader. Possibly because of his overall possessiveness of the car, or because of his general paranoia, but he thought they had designs on his vehicle. The way they were talking, as if scheming. He supposed he was just still jumpy, as he had been ever since that guy got shot in his parking lot. The police had thought it was a bunch of kids who killed a lady in Quebec City, although he was at a loss as to how they did it.
They did, eventually, come to talk with him. Two of them, the leader and the girl, told them they wanted to buy something from the store, and they followed him inside. Indoors, he remembered that he had left his car door open to wash the interior window. This didn't help his premonitions.
Alex and Sarah immediately saw that they were going to have some problems. The selection of goods
Similar Books
