That truck wasn’t going to leave the garage without me. Either I’d be on it, or I’d get killed trying to hitch a ride.
Darla disappeared into the blackness of the truck bed, following the hulking guy. One of the wiry guys closed the tailgate and tied down the flap. Then they strolled around the corner of the truck, heading toward the cab, out of my line of sight.
The only person I could see now was one of the mechanics. He was facing away from me, holding a five-gallon can above the truck’s gas cap.
Only about two feet separated me from the roof of the nearest truck. I crawled to the gap and reached across, eyeing the mechanic the whole time. Once my hands touched the other truck, I swung my legs across. The mechanic didn’t even glance up.
I scuttled over two more trucks in the same way until I was lined up roughly even with the one that held Darla, but three ranks back. The truck I was perched on had its hood open. The vehicles between me and the idling deuce were both pickups—there was no way I could keep hopping from roof to roof as I’d been doing.
I looked down the aisle on the left side of the truck. The two wiry guys were standing by the driver’s door of the idling truck. If I tried to sneak down that aisle, they’d spot me. But from the aisle on my right, I’d be in plain view of the mechanic. I couldn’t afford to wait—they were gassing up the truck for a reason. I had to get on it—and fast.
I slinked away from the aisle, stood, and jumped. I caught the metal girder overhead in both hands. My whole body screamed with pain—my tortured muscles being stretched by my weight. I gritted my teeth and started slowly working my way forward, hand over hand. Even with my taekwondo practice, I probably couldn’t have traversed the beam that way ten months before, swinging from my arms. But there was one advantage to being blasted back into nineteenth-century farming by the volcano: I was at least as strong as anyone I knew, except maybe Darla.
I couldn’t see the guys by the cab anymore, but I was in plain view of the mechanic. So long as he kept paying attention to the gas, I’d be okay.
I worked my way slowly along the beam. Twenty feet . . . ten . . . I hung over the bed of a pickup about ten feet below me. The mechanic pulled the spout of the gas can out of the truck and turned toward me. I froze, praying he wouldn’t look up. If I moved, he’d spot me for sure. But maybe, just maybe, it was dark enough that if I just hung there, I’d be unnoticed.
A drop of sweat rolled along the bridge of my nose. The mechanic set the gas can on a pallet loaded with empties and hefted a full can from another pallet. My arms burned from the strain of holding myself perfectly motionless, and the drop of sweat tickled my nose, threatening a sneeze.
The mechanic opened the gas can, pulled out the spout, and thrust it into the truck, turning his back to me. I breathed a silent sigh of relief and started hand-over-handing it toward Darla’s truck again.
How long would it take to empty the gas can? I didn’t know, so I moved as fast as I could. I was steadily getting closer to the mechanic. If he turned around and looked up now, there’d be no way he could miss me.
This beam didn’t pass directly over the truck. The closest I could get was about five feet from the back of it. I swung my legs, forward and back, gaining momentum and then letting go as I arced toward the truck.
I landed about in the center of the roof with a whump of compressing canvas. Instantly I fell flat, hoping the noise of the engine would cover the sound of my fall.
“What are you doing in there?” shouted one of the wiry guys.
The guy in the truck started moaning again. I heard Darla whisper, “Shh, shh.”
“Freaks,” another voice said, and they both laughed.
I pressed myself to the canvas. One of the struts supporting the roof dug into my belly.
To my right, the mechanic yelled, “Done! You only got a two-gallon reserve. You screw around at all, you won’t make it back.”
“Yeah, yeah,” the reply came.
Two doors slammed in quick succession, and the truck rolled forward. Clinging to the roof, I rode from the blackness of the garage into the thin, yellow light outside.