but had waited until the commuters trickled out of his building so he wouldn’t draw unwanted attention. It put him arriving a little later than he’d like with the sun already yawning at the horizon. The late February weather threatened snow, filling the air with hazy gray clouds and dimming the daylight that much more.
Rounding one more bend, a clearing opened in the trees. Light stone gravel that complemented the muted sky filled the lot, save for a slab of neat concrete beneath the building’s awning. Where once gasoline pumps sat, a chunk of raised cement anchored two metal support posts, more rust than white paint coating the surface. A wall of surprisingly clear glass revealed what looked to be an office. Less convenience and more service station, the place hosted two bays with large glass-front doors buttoned low.
By the time Vail reached the storefront, parked, and straightened from the car, a young man—boy, really—stood, his face nearly smashed against the window, gawking. His side hurt less each day and didn’t cause him pain after sitting for so many hours in a row, but tightness held him stiff as a two-by-four. With the kid’s eyes on him he didn’t try to work out the rigidity. He just tried not to look like a toy soldier when he walked.
“Can I help you?” the boy—John, by the name embroidered on his coveralls—asked. His light blue eyes never left the sports car. Puffs of steam floated from his gaping mouth and his greasy hand shoved at the spiky blond hair above his forehead.
“You have an open bay. I’d like to rent it for a couple of nights. A thousand bucks up front and another thousand if it’s here when I get back.”
That swiveled the kid’s head. His gaze rose to Vail’s. “Two grand? Is something wrong with it? Cause we can fix it. We may seem backwoods, and we are, but I’ve got a computer for diagnostics. I guarantee I could have her purring in no time a’tal’.” His hand left his hair and burrowed into his pocket. A shiver wracked his lanky frame.
“I’m headed into the woods and want to keep her out of the weather.”
“Oh, uh…sure. My gramps won’t mind. It’s his place. But…I know we wouldn’t make that much in a week with both bays open. Business just isn’t that steady. These days everybody’s drivin’ a new car.” He rocked on his heels and then hopped, like only a rubber-jointed kid could, toward the building. “I’ll lift the door and you can pull’er on in.”
“No you won’t,” a worn, yet strong, voice came from the far side of the building.
The kid stalled mid-step and squinted at the old man barreling around the corner with a tire iron clenched in his sun-leathered grip. “But Grandpa, this guy said—”
“Get inside and lock the door, John,” his grandfather interrupted.
A scowl as deep as the San Andreas trenched the man’s brow. His shoulders, wide enough to have done considerable damage in his prime, swayed in Vail’s direction. With the metal weapon, he expected the guy could still bring the hurt to a vast majority of the population. White hair shorn in a military issue high-and-tight gave him an air of authority.
John squeaked out a confounded, “But…” while he hustled to the door.
“We don’t need your tainted money. Now, take your car and go.”
Vail relaxed his stance as much as his body would allow, in an effort to appear non-threatening. As a muscled guy of six-three he’d never had much success blending out in the open. “I don’t mean to offend you. I’d be paying for a service. Just like any other customer.”
“Kids these days can’t see danger when it’s staring them in the face. He’s smart in every other respect, but I bet my grandson would pet a cobra, if it bobbed its head in front of him. Society’s made them all soft. But I know a threat when I see one. We want no part of what you and your friends are up to.”
“My friends?” Vail asked.
“I may be old, but I’m not stupid.
Anita Amirrezvani
J.B. Garner
Sydney Logan
Jeffrey Shapiro
Mary Alice Monroe
Charlotte Anne
K. P. Hilton
Scarlet Hyacinth
Philip K. Dick
SJD Peterson, S.A. McAuley