them. She’d be happy to let him go back to being big tough he-man when he was healthy; until then, he could sit back and feel guilty over letting her do all the hard stuff.
Well, a lot of it anyway.
The good news was the gas station seemed to have taken a fuel delivery just before the problems had started; the gas level in the underground tank wasn’t that far below the ground. The other gas station they’d been previously using had been much lower, which meant further to haul each gallon up.
And she’d gotten a crash course in how to tell diesel apart from gas. Smell; gas was sharper, and more familiar after twenty years of filling her cars up. Color; diesel was darker. And if all else failed either spill some of each and see which evaporated first – which would be the gas – or set both spills on fire if she was in a hurry but had to be sure. Austin said the gas would burn off much quicker than the diesel.
She was reasonably confident she’d picked the right tank after investigating both, so they hadn’t set anything on fire, but it was useful information. Jessica had learned all sorts of things in the past seven weeks; some of which had just never come up, and others that she would have never guessed in a million years she’d need to become adept at.
Guns were big on that list, along with cleaning and caring for bullet wounds, storing and purifying water, cooking and managing food without electricity or refrigerators, and now telling fuels apart without labels. What was the world coming to?
“Stupid question. Zombies.” she told herself as she poured the last can into the remaining two gallon container, topping it off. Sitting back on her haunches, she rested a few moments, then checked all the cans. She hadn’t missed one; they were all full. Finally. That had only taken half an hour.
Screwing the caps on the containers, she heaved herself to her feet and started carrying them over to the SUV; the little ones first. The five gallon can made her groan some, but she got them all lined up against the sides of the cargo compartment’s interior and began securing them in place with bungee cords so they didn’t slide around or tip. She finished by stuffing the rope, funnel, and paint can into the garbage bag she kept them in to contain the fumes and keep gas from soaking into the back of the SUV. It went in the back with everything else, and she stepped back gratefully.
“Okay, now I am coming down.” Austin said when she closed the SUV’s back hatch. “You’re not going back into the store alone.”
“Fine.” Jessica nodded, too tired to argue. And, truth be told, she wouldn’t mind the backup. They’d already checked it once, just to make sure there weren’t any lurking zombies or people camping out inside – and also looking for gas cans – but had then left it alone in favor of fueling up before anything else. Gas meant they could flee if worst came to worst. Food wouldn’t make the SUV run; and gas would let them find food.
Now they were full up on fuel, but there had been quite a bit still on the shelves inside. The station wasn’t a big convenience store like she was used to from Atlanta, or as were commonly seen along the Interstates, but it still had a few aisles of shelves of the typical sorts of snacks and such.
Up to a point, calories were calories. They had room, and weight capacity, in the SUV to spare. Even allowing for what she was reserving in hopes of finding more fuel cans. Potato chips and candy weren’t healthy, but she’d rather bring them than not.
“Candice, in the car, lock it behind you.” Jessica said as Austin started easing himself down. Her daughter scrambled down without complaint and got in the back seat of the vehicle as Austin came down across the hood, then to the ground, moving gingerly. Jessica listened for the click of the SUV’s locks, then drew the Taurus and headed for the store.
The
Well, a lot of it anyway.
The good news was the gas station seemed to have taken a fuel delivery just before the problems had started; the gas level in the underground tank wasn’t that far below the ground. The other gas station they’d been previously using had been much lower, which meant further to haul each gallon up.
And she’d gotten a crash course in how to tell diesel apart from gas. Smell; gas was sharper, and more familiar after twenty years of filling her cars up. Color; diesel was darker. And if all else failed either spill some of each and see which evaporated first – which would be the gas – or set both spills on fire if she was in a hurry but had to be sure. Austin said the gas would burn off much quicker than the diesel.
She was reasonably confident she’d picked the right tank after investigating both, so they hadn’t set anything on fire, but it was useful information. Jessica had learned all sorts of things in the past seven weeks; some of which had just never come up, and others that she would have never guessed in a million years she’d need to become adept at.
Guns were big on that list, along with cleaning and caring for bullet wounds, storing and purifying water, cooking and managing food without electricity or refrigerators, and now telling fuels apart without labels. What was the world coming to?
“Stupid question. Zombies.” she told herself as she poured the last can into the remaining two gallon container, topping it off. Sitting back on her haunches, she rested a few moments, then checked all the cans. She hadn’t missed one; they were all full. Finally. That had only taken half an hour.
Screwing the caps on the containers, she heaved herself to her feet and started carrying them over to the SUV; the little ones first. The five gallon can made her groan some, but she got them all lined up against the sides of the cargo compartment’s interior and began securing them in place with bungee cords so they didn’t slide around or tip. She finished by stuffing the rope, funnel, and paint can into the garbage bag she kept them in to contain the fumes and keep gas from soaking into the back of the SUV. It went in the back with everything else, and she stepped back gratefully.
“Okay, now I am coming down.” Austin said when she closed the SUV’s back hatch. “You’re not going back into the store alone.”
“Fine.” Jessica nodded, too tired to argue. And, truth be told, she wouldn’t mind the backup. They’d already checked it once, just to make sure there weren’t any lurking zombies or people camping out inside – and also looking for gas cans – but had then left it alone in favor of fueling up before anything else. Gas meant they could flee if worst came to worst. Food wouldn’t make the SUV run; and gas would let them find food.
Now they were full up on fuel, but there had been quite a bit still on the shelves inside. The station wasn’t a big convenience store like she was used to from Atlanta, or as were commonly seen along the Interstates, but it still had a few aisles of shelves of the typical sorts of snacks and such.
Up to a point, calories were calories. They had room, and weight capacity, in the SUV to spare. Even allowing for what she was reserving in hopes of finding more fuel cans. Potato chips and candy weren’t healthy, but she’d rather bring them than not.
“Candice, in the car, lock it behind you.” Jessica said as Austin started easing himself down. Her daughter scrambled down without complaint and got in the back seat of the vehicle as Austin came down across the hood, then to the ground, moving gingerly. Jessica listened for the click of the SUV’s locks, then drew the Taurus and headed for the store.
The
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