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I woke up early that morning to meet Howie for our weekly trip to town. All the stores had long since closed, buildings already crumbling in disrepair on every corner. The ones that stood did so only because they leaned heavily on their downtrodden neighbors. But we knew where to go by now, and how to get there unseen. Howie, on his own ‘commandeered’ motorbike, glided around corners and traversed the back streets a few feet in front of me.
//I need gas.// I chipped to him. The red light on the panel flashed in my face.
//I thought you stocked up.//
//I did but the generator leaked the other day and I had to use it. Come on, it’ll just take a sec.//
We pulled into a car lot and I immediately got to work. I pulled a six-inch section of garden hose from my hip bag and scanned the parking lot for the oldest truck.
“Over here,” Howie yelled from behind the building. “This one looks old enough!”
Grabbing both of my backpacks I followed the sound of his voice, throwing a leg back over the scooter and walking it across the cracked pavement. The bumpy ride reminded me that I’d neglected to go to the bathroom before leaving. Rookie move, Syn.
The truck in question was a ‘57 Correro. Perfect. Spain had been the last to convert to natural gas. A 2257 Correro should still run on gasoline. To be sure, I checked the dashboard for the gas can icon. Shielding my eyes from the growing light of dawn I pressed my face to the driver side window. “I can’t see.”
“Break it.” Howie shrugged, digging in his bag for what I assumed was the hammer.
“Better.” I stood back. The last time we didn’t double check before siphoning we’d accidentally put natural gas in Howie’s bike, which ran on a mix of gas and kerosene. That was a disaster.
As Howie smashed the truck’s window with his sledgehammer I glanced at his dirt bike. The ugly contraption we’d had to manufacture on the gas tank to make it run on LPG was an eye sore. Effective, but ugly. He was fine with that, but me... not so much.
“Gas can. You’re good. I’m gonna check for supplies.” Howie pointed at the rear toolbox in the bed of the truck.
“Good luck.” I wasn’t sure what he’d find as far as supplies went, in a car lot vehicle, but he was always so happy when he did.
I set both backpacks on the ground beside me. Although I was used to the weight of both packs—complete with full canteens, extra clothes, batteries, and a whole garage worth of other gear—I welcomed the break from lugging it around. I carefully navigated the hose into the tank and squeezed the siphon pump until liquid began to flow into the gas can. The sound reminded me, again, that I had to find a bathroom fast.
“Hey watch this while I... look for supplies inside.”
“K.” Howie slammed the stainless steel toolbox lid, grinning.
“What?”
He held up a filthy ball cap and his smile grew.
“Don’t,” I warned, but it was too late.
Howie positioned the moldy cap over his beautiful hair and pulled it down almost covering his bright green eyes.
“You’re disgusting!” I called over my shoulder while half running to the car lot’s office.
The doorknob didn’t budge as I jiggled it. I surveyed the windows for a moment, squirming with urgency. No holes. I unhooked the flashlight from my belt loop, covered my face with my other hand, and smacked the glass as hard as I could. It shattered; an alarm instantly blared inside.
//Oh Stone!// Howie’s voice in my head barely came through over the alarm.
//I know! They still have power!// My excitement took over. Visions of running water and a flushing toilet danced in my mind. How long had it been?
//Turn it off!// Howie snapped me back to reality.
I climbed through the window and shined my flashlight through the room. On the wall by the front door was a white square box with flashing red buttons. I ran to it and smashed its shell with the flashlight handle. Nothing. It took three more swings before the thing cracked enough for me to fit my fingers inside and rip out the wires.
Finally silence filled the room. I breathed a quick sigh of relief before Howie ruined it. //We gotta get out of here. They had to hear that!// From the window to my side I could see him shoving the nozzle of the gas can into my scooter’s tank.
Torn, I stood at the alarm panel for a moment. //Come on! Help me with this stuff!// He yelled between my ears.
I unlocked the door and ran back around the building. When I finally reached him he was stuffing the last of our siphoning tools back in the bag. I helped him finish and flung both backpacks over my shoulder, jumping on my scooter. I keyed the start code into the control panel and the engine purred.
Sirens rang out in the distance, prompting Howie to rev his engine and speed off ahead of me. “I hope that stupid hat flies off!” I yelled in his direction, pulling out of the parking lot at a normal speed. I still had to pee!