gas station blow out
Quinn
Quinn parked the car a bit a ways from the gas station, careful not to make too much noise and face an unlucky surprise. She opened the back of the truck, grabbing her backpack and rifle, before quietly walking to the abandoned gas station. Her hopes were not high; every gas station she’s stopped at over the past four hours had been total misses, and her hopes of keeping the truck were dwindling.
Bringing the rifle to her shoulder, she carefully pulled open the door with her left hand, her heartbeat immediately rising. The light filtered through the dimly lit room, illuminating nearly empty shelves. Quinn scowled, nearly considering skipping scavenging, but figured she’d take a walk around anyways.
She relaxed, bringing the rifle to her side, and walking up and down the aisles. The floor was a mess, covered in years-old newspapers, spilled food, dirt, and other unidentifiable things. She scanned the shelves, finding a can of soup. She grabbed it, burrowing it in the crook of her elbow, meandering throughout the rest of the gas station. After finding beef jerky and–the holy grail–peanut butter, she decided nothing else was worthy of saving and exited the store, not too disappointed with the scavenging.
After hopping back into the truck, she opened the jar of peanut butter, dipping her fingers and licking it off. She closed her eyes, in pure bliss.
“Whoever has peanut allergies are some unlucky bastards,” she said out loud, screwing the cap back on and turning the ignition key. Her anxiety slightly spiked after seeing the tank dangerously low, but she knew there wasn’t much she could do once it ran out. She decided to stop at one more gas station in hopes of an abandoned car before hiding out for the night.
She turned onto the road, glancing at the map on the passenger seat occasionally. She didn’t have a specific location in mind and wasn’t even sure where the best place would be. But she just kept driving.
Much to Quinn’s utter dismay, this truck’s radio was completely busted and nothing would play, no matter how hard she slammed the buttons or swore at the CD player. So she had nothing except the sounds of nature and her own thoughts.
Of course, this was a very dangerous thing to have. Many times she’s thought about just pulling over and taking the rifle to her head, but there was something inherently stubborn in human nature, and so here she is: driving in a stolen car, with a nearly empty gas tank, talking to herself in hopes she’s not going completely insane.
The afternoon was slowly melting into the evening when she found another gas station. Her spirits were lifted by the number of cars parked, and she parked a decent amount away again before heading into the gas station.
She couldn’t believe her eyes. Of course, the shelves weren’t filled, but this was the most amount of food she’s seen since her journey. Blankets, matches, fifteen-year-old fully sealed chips, chocolate…
She greedily took everything into her arms, feeling almost delirious in happiness. She was nearly finished scouring the back of the store when she heard a noise near the entrance. She stopped in her tracks, immediately ducking down. Fuck. It sounded like a male voice, just one, talking to himself. She silently blew out a breath of relief. Okay. Not too bad.
She carefully dropped her loot, feeling a little dismayed that she might have to abandon it if shit gets tight. She adjusts her rifle and peers around the corner of the shelf, seeing him wander around.
“Holy shit!” he exclaimed. “Beef jerky?”
Quinn waits until his back is turned before standing up and aiming at his back, stepping into view. Her heartbeat rose, but she tried to steady her breathing as calmly as possible.
She cocked the rifle.
The guy turned around, eyes nearly popping out of his head, and pulled a gun from his waistband. It was now barrel to barrel, glare to glare.
“Drop your weapon, and I’ll drop mine,” Quinn offers, willing to negotiate after seeing his face. He had to be her age, maybe younger, with short black hair and dark eyes.
“Who are you with?” he asked. Quinn glared harder. Deciding to risk her life, she slowly lowered the rifle to her side, her left hand spread wide open. His eyes darted to the rifle, back up to her face, the rifle, then to her. Please don’t shoot please don’t shoot.
He lowers his gun as well, and a wave of relief washes over her.
“I’m by myself,” Quinn says. “Just let me go and I’ll let you go.”
The boy seems to think hard about something, before lowering his gun and cocking his head towards the entrance.
“Hold on. Follow me.”
Quinn cautiously follows him as he jogs away, apparently not caring whether she decided to follow or not. She walks outside, the sky now turning a deep blue, and hears voices coming from her right. She looks over and sees the boy talking to a man. She starts to make her way over and picks up on their conversation. The man looks older now that she’s closer, in his fifties probably, and he looks distressed and slightly annoyed.
“I ask you to pick up supplies and instead you find a girl?” he asks, running a hand down his face.
Quinn steps towards both of them, arms crossed.
“I have no idea what this kid is talking about.” Quinn points to the boy.
“Kid?” he interjects, but Quinn ignored him.
“I was just collecting my things and stealing gas, then I’ll be on my merry way. Got it?”
The man and the boy exchange glances, apparently devising a plan Quinn was unaware of. The man sighs and then turns to Quinn.
“What if you come with us?”