BT laughed. “Ah, as if I’m living the dream right now.”
“I do kind of smell bad,” Gary said, pulling his shirt up to his nose.
“I know you do, buddy. I just didn’t want to give her the satisfaction.” BT paused before speaking again. “I hate pulling off the highway, all the shit happens when we do.”
“Beats walking,” Gary said.
“Barely.”
“We’re coming up on some gas stations,” Mrs. Deneaux said with some excitement as she pointed to the blue information highway sign.
“Everyone locked and loaded?” BT asked as he got over to the right lane and put his blinker on. “Habit,” he said aloud when he noticed Gary and Mrs. Deneaux looking at him. BT got to the bottom of the exit ramp; there were two stations to the right and one to the left. “Any preference?” he asked the group.
“More chance of supplies with the two stations,” Deneaux said.
“And more chances people have been there,” Gary answered.
BT put his blinker on, signaling his intention of going left. “Sorry, it’s difficult to break a twenty-year old habit.” BT stayed on the roadway, with the truck idling as they looked closely at the gas station.
“It’s definitely had visitors,” Gary said, looking over Deneaux’s shoulder.
“Would you mind not getting too close?” she asked him with no small measure of venom in her voice. She had smoked her last cigarette over five minutes previous and she was already feeling the effects of withdrawal— whether real or imagined—it didn’t matter. She was getting as angry as a republican at a tree hugging ceremony. “You just going to sit here?” she asked BT, not hiding her hostility. Before he could even answer, she had opened her door and was climbing down. When her feet hit the ground she pulled the revolver from its harness.
“I feel sorry for whatever poor bastard gets in her way,” BT said.
“I think I see some t-shirts.” Gary peered into the store’s smashed front windows. The gas station was more of the variety store that just happened to sell gas than an outright petrol server. It was resplendent with cheap souvenirs made in China reminding travelers that they had visited the great state of Virginia. Gary climbed down also.
BT swung the truck into the station. When he shut it off, it was the quiet more than anything that unnerved him. It just wasn’t a natural silence. “Gary. Diesel?” he asked when he got the other man’s attention.
Gary pointed to the large side tank on the truck, outlined in crisp yellow letters was the word ‘diesel.’
“Yeah you can kiss my ass, too,” BT said as he went over to the underground filling tanks.
BT walked into the store. It looked a lot more intact than he would have expected. Not perfect, but there were still some supplies left and at least half of the shelving was still up. Gary had found a five gallon jug of water and a bar of soap. He placed the water carefully on top of one of the remaining standing shelves. He then stripped off most of his clothes before popping the top on the water. BT turned away quickly when he realized Gary’s tightie-whities were going to be see-through as soon as they got wet.
Deneaux was rummaging in the back of the clerk counter. “They only have fucking menthol!” she fumed. “Do I look black!” she was full-on shouting now.
“That’s kind of racist don’t you think?” BT asked.
“It’s not racist if it’s the truth,” she said looking up. “Why you black people like to smoke them is beyond me.”
“First off, I don’t smoke.”
“Oh I was just using generalizations. Help me find something for a more civilized palate.”
BT walked away. He went into the service bay looking for something that would help him get some gas out of the ground.
He silently cursed himself when he walked past the window and looked in. Gary had thought better of keeping the underwear on and was now completely unclothed except for his untied boots.
“Well there’s something I’ll never be able to unsee,” BT said, heading towards the tank.
He dropped the hose into it and then unfurled the rest so that he was sitting at the tank of the truck before he started pumping. He was twenty cranks in and was about to call his idea a ‘flub’ when he felt the diesel pulsing through the line.
“Sweet!” He said as he quickly got the spigot into the tank opening.
After a few moments, Gary came out wearing a pink ‘Virginia is for Lover’s’ t-shirt and a pair of surfer shorts.
“Nice duds,” BT told him.
“Better than what I had on.”
BT could only agree.
“I’m gonna grab anything I think we can use,” Gary said. “Do you need anything?”
“Deneaux still going nuts in there?” BT asked between hand cranks.
“She seems to have calmed down since she started smoking. She keeps saying something about black people and their uncouth tastes. I’m going to grab some cleaning stuff, too, and see if I can get the back of the truck clean enough to get back into.”
“You’re going to leave me alone up front with Deneaux?”
Gary shrugged and headed back into the store. “Better you than me.”
BT pumped as fast as he could, he was waiting for something to happen; Zombies, gangs, rednecks, evangelists, or even rogue cats. It was unnatural to be in one place for so long and have absolutely nothing happen. He wasn’t complaining…he was just vigilant.
Deneaux was shuttling small plastic bags full of smokes to the truck. Gary had found a dolly and two five gallon jugs which he was using liberally to get rid of the majority of gore in the back of the vehicle. When BT had finally finished topping off the tanks, he went to the back of the truck to put the hose and pump up. Gary was in the back sweeping the human debris onto the ground. BT could not help notice—although he wished he hadn’t—that the ground behind the truck looked like the world’s largest afterbirth. He skirted around the worst of it and handed the hose up to Gary.
“You alright?” BT asked.
“Fine,” Gary said through tight lips.
“This seem strange to you?” BT asked Gary.
“Which part?”
“The part where we’re not under attack.”
“Helps break up the monotony of survival.”
BT walked away. He could imagine Mike having delivered that line, although it would have been more dry pan and less serious. He could not shake the feeling that this was too easy. Nothing they had done since the zombies had come was easy and he just couldn’t fathom why, now of all times, they were getting a break. It was welcome to say the least, and he hated to look a gift horse in the mouth—not that he had ever received one—but he understood the saying.
Deneaux was now shuttling some food and bottles of soda that she was able to recover. “Going to eat well tonight.” She held up a can of macaroni and cheese. She was smiling around a cigarette. “These really aren’t so bad once you get used to them. Maybe you colored folks are on to something,” she said as she took another puff of her menthol smoke.
“I told you already, I don’t smoke and menthols aren’t a ‘colored’ thing,” BT said angrily.
“I’m sure you don’t eat watermelon either.” She laughed as she threw her booty into the cab.
“You old bat, who doesn’t eat watermelon?” BT asked.
“I love watermelon,” Gary said behind the canvas.
