Page 58 of DOG Part 2

11

Kim

Kane gotin the driver seat and started the car. We headed back to the main road again for gas and after a few miles of driving, pulled into what had to be one of the most Podunk looking gas stations in America. Two ancient pumps sat in front of a wooden building that even had chinking putty between the horizontal boards. An immense American flag that was probably made for a towering state department skyscraper swung over the front door, just in case anyone forgot which country they were in.

When the Jeep stopped I kicked the door open and hopped out. “I’ll be in the restroom, then I’ll check out what they have in the way of food and supplies.”

He nodded and pulled his wallet out. “Good. Pick up a few days’ worth of non-perishables. I’m not sure how stocked up it’ll be where we’re going.”

“No problem.” I turned quickly around and headed inside without taking his money.

“Here’s the list and some cash,” he called after me.

“I can manage,” I said, and kept walking. I’d been out on backpack-only camping trips. I had a good idea of how to prepare for hunkering down. I needed a flashlight with extra batteries, lighters or fire starters, a half-decent first aid kit, a sewing kit, tie wraps or bungee cords, water, canned or dried foods, a can opener, basic eating utensils, and personal hygiene items, some of which I already had in my backpack.

The store didn’t have much, but there were a few small kerosene lamps, matches, flashlights, a tiny smartphone-sized first aid kit, matches and cans of food with pop lids. It would have to do. Also, I could mentally cross out the need for a can opener.

My arms nearly full, I headed for the front of the store to check out. I placed the arm-full of supplies on the counter, and the grizzled looking guy working the counter got busy at the cash register.

“Do you have a bathroom?” I asked after he rang up the things and took my cash.

Without lifting his eyes to look at me, he nodded toward a side door. He pushed my paper bags at me and set the change in my hand.

“Thanks,” I muttered. “I’ll be back for these in a minute.”

The back of the structure was cluttered with piles of old tires that had to be navigated like a maze in order to get to the white door around the side, emblazoned with a picture of a toilet. On a second thought, I stopped. Peeing behind a tree was better than facing whatever was behind that dirty door. Stepping gingerly across the trash-strewn ground, I set my sights on the line of trees not far away.

I was still half devoured by the tires when I noticed some shadows approaching the side of the building. There were five of them altogether, and my gut told me to duck down behind the closest pile of old tires. I saw their faces when they cleared the building. None were familiar. They split up, and two of them walked toward where I was hiding.

“Get up, Blondie,” one of them said, presumably to me as they both were Hispanic with dark hair.

He reached a hand out and a chill went through my body as his sticky fingers wrapped around my forearm. I stood up slowly, and the man was rough when he pulled me to his side.

“Let her go and we can all walk out of here in one piece,” Kane’s voice boomed from behind them. I slowly turned around. He had a gun drawn in each hand, one pointing to each of their heads. The two men froze, as did I. Kane nodded at me. “Come over here, Kim.”

I started moving but the guy holding on to my arm didn’t let go.

“She’s coming with us,” he told Kane.

Kane answered, “The hell she is.”

“We’ll see what my three other friends have to say,” the guy answered confidently.

“Oh, you mean the three knuckleheads who went inside to look for me? Your friends are, what should I call it? Let’s just say unconscious people aren’t good as backup.”

“You’re a dead man,” the man’s friend growled.

That was when their sixth friend stepped out the back door with a sawed-off shotgun trained on the back of Kane’s head.

To be continued in Dog Part Two