spine and legs. He walked with a crutch and when people saw him approaching they assumed he was harmless. Nobody would have suspected that he had powers. And if he pronounced his limp all the more it just added to his disguise.
John's focus intensified , concentrating on the men watching his brother. He was wound tight, ready to strike in a heartbeat if he needed to.
"What do you think will happen?" Rachel murmured.
"Charlie will convince them we're not going to rob them and they'll let us in."
"Is it always this hostile?"
"Sometim es. Winter makes people nervous and irrational. Don't worry we've got this covered."
"Is it so important we go inside?"
"We need fuel and supplies," John stated, still concentrating on his brother.
John and Charlie were both so casual. Was this w hat life outside of the city was like? Neither man seemed affected by the fear that Rachel was choking on. Something didn't settle well with her and she couldn't work out if she was just being paranoid. She thought back to the burnt out car, the clothes strewn over the road, and she shuddered.
"I'm going to listen," she told John . Before he could object she was already out of the car.
Charlie could move things with his mind, but Rachel had her own talents. She focussed her energy and slipped c asually out of the vehicle. She moved behind Charlie, quickly catching up with him. Even he didn't notice she was there. You can't see me, you can't see me . The mantra repeated on a loop, making her invisible to the men around her.
The old man in the booth had stood up, his hands were concealed, likely holding a weapon just in case. Charlie made sure hi s hands were visible. He smiled – not arrogantly or confidently – just another man appreciating the difficult situation and respecting it. The old man matched the expression. Nobody even looked Rachel's way.
"Stocks are low," the old man said. "Things don't come cheap."
"I appre ciate that Sir, times are hard. As I said we need supplies for the winter. We'll pay whatever the asking price is. No haggling, we've got a long journey ahead, we just want to get going."
The old man considered it. He cast his eye over at his guard and then nodded.
"This place had a lot of trouble?"
"Trouble?"
"The security," Charlie said. "Couple of winters ago we were up this way, roads are looking a lot emptier now. Saw a burnt out car a mile out."
"Times are hard as you say," the old man explained. "Got to keep our wits about us."
"Well you'll get no trouble off us. All right if I tell my brother to fill up while I pick up supplies?"
The man nodded his head. The guard made no effort to move. He would watch John and make sure the fuel pumps were safe. Fuel was a commodity people couldn't waste anymore. Charlie gestured to his brother that they were good to go and headed into the service station. Rachel followed a few inches behind.
The door to the building was heavy, reinforced with steel and able to be barricaded from the inside. There had been windows in the original building, but they had long since been boarded up, barred like the door. The electric ran off a turbine in the wasteland at the back of the building and the lights fizzed into life as Charlie entered, working off a motion sensor to conserve energy. Charlie waited until the door closed and turned to Rachel.
"What are you doing?" He wasn't mad, if anything he was amused.
"Things don't feel right," she said. "Those guys out there..."
"They're taking precautions. Look it's a tense world out in the wild, you've just got to see it from their point of view. I mean we show up, with John who is the epitome of violence, they're bound to be worried. But we'll give them a fair price, no trouble and everything will run smoothly. Don't worry about it. Hey, there's a cafe on the left, go grab something to eat."
"I thought we weren't staying long," she said.
Charlie put his hand on her shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "If there is trouble they'll put
Tim Curran, Cody Goodfellow, Gary McMahon, C.J. Henderson, William Meikle, T.E. Grau, Laurel Halbany, Christine Morgan, Edward Morris