And Darkness Fell by David Berardelli Page A

door displayed dark,
dirty windows. Six abandoned vehicles sat beside the building, but none in front.
The car wash at the other end of the lot showed no activity, and the six pump
islands were abandoned as well.
“Anyone in the office?” I asked Reed.
“He said he doesn’t think so.”
I saw no movement behind the large, dusty window. To be safe, I decided to
check it out. If someone was inside, I didn’t want to pump gas without paying.
For all I knew, this area could still be using an active power grid. If the office was
empty, I’d probably have to turn on the pumps myself.
“I’ll be right back.”
Reed made a move to climb out as well.
“Since that last can of pop, I…”
“Wait until I get back. Someone could pull in while we’re both inside and
steal the van.”
The small office showed no signs of recent activity. A couple of half-empty
coffee cups sat on the counter and desk. The smell of burnt coffee languishing in
the pot clung to the stale air. The coffeemaker was switched off, and the pot was
cold to the touch. There was no sign of food in the room.
I opened the door marked RESTROOM. It was empty, but the strong smell of
urine and feces tainted the small area. I cracked open the window.
When I had emptied my bladder, I flushed the toilet and did the same to the
one in the next stall. Both flushed slowly, barely emptying their contents. The tile
below the stained urinal had darkened with the contents from the bottoms of
hundreds of shoes.
I found the controls for the gas pumps and switched ours on. Luckily, they
still had power. I went back outside just as Reed was getting out of the van.
“I left the window open. It might help.”
“I appreciate the heads-up.”
I circled the van and went over to the pump. Just as I unscrewed the cap and
slipped the nozzle into the opening of the tank, I heard the soft whining hum of
an engine easing up to our pump island on the other side.
My scalp tingled. I reluctantly forced the anger away. After all, I wouldn’t be
the only one needing gas. But I couldn’t shake the darkness of suspicion building
inside me. With five other sets of pumps available, they’d chosen mine.
To be safe, I locked the catch on the gas nozzle then pulled open the driver’s
door. I reached under the seat, grabbed a revolver, slipped it in my pocket, closed
the door, and returned to the pump.
A tall, skinny guy with his head shaved to the bone peered between the pumps
just as I pulled the nozzle out. Tattoos of stars ran down his left cheek. A row of
studs covered his left ear. A nose ring dangled above his upper lip.
“Hey,” he grunted.
I nodded but said nothing.
“Quiet around here, huh?”
He looked early twenties, wearing a black tee shirt embellished with white
stars, faded jeans, and scuffed white tennis shoes. A gold necklace with a peace
sign hung around his neck. A large gold bracelet encircled his skinny left wrist.
I remained cautious. He was obviously capable of operating a vehicle and
safely pulling up to the pumps—a small feat for a normal person but an
impossible task for someone doped. My deadly encounter with Luke had
convinced me to treat everyone as a potential enemy.
“Yeah,” I said. “Pretty quiet.”
He nodded, over and over. His eyes were a little bloodshot but not the least bit
filmy. My scalp continued to tingle.
He grabbed the nozzle and shoved it into the tank with a resounding clunk .
“Guess the fuckin’ pumps are on if you’re fillin’ up too,” he said, snickering.
My distrust grew. He gave me the impression he was hiding his left side
behind the pump.
“Things are really fucked up ... know what I mean?”
I made no comment.
He shook his head. “Everybody’s so fucked up now. Me, too. Even when I
don’t take any shit. Forget my own name, sometimes. You forget your name,
too?”
“No.”
“You’re lucky, ya know? One lucky motherfucker.”
I kept my eyes on him and hoped Reed would come back out so we could
leave.
“Forgot where I