Something to Die For by Kaye Blue

Thirty-One

Angel

“Are you ready?”

I wasn’t, but I wouldn’t tell him that.

“Yeah,” I said and nodded, trying to keep my voice strong.

“So, what’s the plan?”

I glared at him, happy to be angry instead of afraid.

“Lucas, we’ve gone over this probably a dozen times. I think I got it,” I said.

“Then you shouldn’t mind going over again,” he said.

I breathed out deeply, hoping the clearing breath would take some of the frustration with it.

It didn’t.

“I told you—”

“And I told you,” he said, cutting me off, “that I’d like to go over it again.”

I looked at him, saw that expression I was coming to recognize and to deeply dislike.

He wouldn’t be reasoned with.

That didn’t mean I didn’t want to try. But arguing with him was futile, probably as futile as trying to pretend I wasn’t afraid.

“Fine. We split up. I approach the gas pumps. You’re going to keep an eye on my back, scope out the area to make sure there’s nothing we missed.”

“And what’s your job?”

“To get gas, and if there’s trouble, get away.”

“Fine,” he said, though he looked anything but satisfied.

We’d been on the road for not quite two days, and it was time to find more gas.

We’d known this time would come, and Lucas had been peppering me with scenarios, how I should react, what I should do.

When we came across a medium-sized town, he had decided it was that then we should try to resupply. Neither of us was excited about the prospect, but getting gas before we ran out completely was a goal, and I was ready.

Even if he didn’t believe it.

“Lucas,” I said, suddenly feeling the need to reassure him, or maybe myself. “I can handle this.”

“It’s one thing to talk about in the abstract. It’s another thing to actually do it.”

“I know. But it has to be done, and I can handle it. I’m not going to slow you down.”

“Okay,” he said, and that dismissive way of his.

I was annoyed by that, but even more annoyed by myself.

And I realized then that I had gotten to the heart of the matter even though it hadn’t been my intention.

I was terrified, though the fear had receded somewhat.

It didn’t lift completely, was always there, but it wasn’t as acute, more like a dull throb rather than a sharp ache.

But what did ache was the thought of me being dead weight, more of a hindrance than a help.

One of the things my mother had never appreciated about me or my father, who I had apparently inherited it from, was that both of us hated to ask for help. Hated to be anything less than in control.

Being out of control was a feeling that I could scarcely remember having in my life.

Even at the height of medical school, the fierce competition, the exhaustion, and the fear that I was going to fuck something up, I’d always been in control. Had always been certain that I’d be able to take care of myself, that I could handle whatever came.

Not anymore.

Nothing, nothing, could have prepared me for this, and for the first time, I felt insecure.

A feeling that was only exacerbated by Lucas.

He still clammed up whenever I tried to ask him questions, but even without speaking, I knew that he was prepared for this. Could see it in his calm, how decisively he’d act, the fact that he didn’t seem to be freaking out.

Whatever had happened to him in his life, whatever his father had done to him, taught him, whatever had brought him to that prison, it had prepared him for the end of the world.

And in the face of that, I felt ineffectual, weak.

A feeling I despised even more than being afraid.

“So let’s go,” he said.

His eyes, still dark, softened ever so slightly.

He looked like he was on the verge of speaking, but in a split second, his expression changed, effortlessly falling into the focus that I envied.

And reminding me that my emotions were the last thing I could afford to indulge.

This was about survival. And for the next little while, I needed to focus on that.

We decided to drive directly to the gas station.

Lucas had circled the area and saw minimal activity.

Those things were near, more than we had seen in the last couple of days. Everything else was quiet, but that didn’t mean we could rest easy.

Unless we got pinned down, I was confident we could handle the ones that we had seen, and even a few more.

But other people…

Lucas hadn’t said anything, but I knew that was what worried him most.

Still, we didn’t have a choice but to take the risk, and as we approach the gas station, I tried to project that same calm and focus that I saw in him.

It was probably a terrible, completely unconvincing imitation, but I would hold onto it.

As we approached, we saw up close what we’d only seen from a distance before.

Five cars strewn around the parking lot.

It looked like two had gotten into an accident, and the three others were parked. They were like relics from another time, the neatly lined cars a symbol of the order that had fallen away in the blink of an eye.

I glanced at them but scarcely paid them attention.

Instead, I focused on the gas pumps, which seem to gleam in the afternoon sun.

They were stark white, the tops painted blue, and looked pristine, cleaner than I could remember any gas pumps ever looking.

And even better, they weren’t damaged in any way.

So, if—and that was a big if—the power to the pumps was on, this would be a good day indeed.

Lucas pulled up to the gas pump, left the key in the ignition, and then got out. I did my part, grabbed the four gas cans that we had laid out, and started to fill them.

There was a row of four pumps, but I didn’t want to get too far away from the car, so I started filling one gas can and then went over to the opposite pump to fill another.

When I squeezed the pump, and the gas started to flow, some of the tension in my stomach released.

Not completely, but at least this was one thing that had gone right so far.

Lucas had disappeared, and though I was aware, I kept focused on my task, urging the cans to fill faster.

Spotted a rack of gas cans two pumps over and decided to risk it.

I’d filled two, so I closed and loaded them into the car, grabbed the key, and went over the pump.

As the two remaining cans filled, I grabbed two more from the rack, then made it back to the car, my heart pounding.

I had deviated, and I knew Lucas wouldn’t appreciate it, but two extra cans of gas were worth the risk.

Or at least I thought so until I heard telltale sign of a gun cocking.

“Hands.”

A woman’s voice, and I looked at my hands, the gas can that I had been so excited about a millisecond ago practically forgotten.

“I’m turning around,” I said.

I did, moving slowly, hoping that my inattention wasn’t going to cost me my life, or Lucas his.

Knowing that if it didn’t, I’d have hell to pay from Lucas.

When I finished turning around, I spotted a woman who was maybe fifty, long grayish-blonde hair, blue eyes that were friendly, even in these circumstances.

“You have a weapon?”

“I’m not looking for trouble. Just trying to get gas,” I said.

“I asked about weapons,” she said.

“Yeah. But I’m not going for them,” I responded, my hands high.

I felt shaky, nervous in a way that I hadn’t with those things.

This was just the eventuality I had been worried about, and to be here just moments after thinking about something similar was eerie.

“How about you drop the gun?” Lucas said.

His voice was as loud as I’d ever heard it.

“How about you drop yours?” came another voice.

A man who stood on the opposite side of the station, his gun trained on me, while Lucas had his trained on the woman.

A fucking standoff.

If the situation were different, I would have laughed, felt the urge to do so right then, though I managed to keep myself calm.

I had watched God only knew how many Westerns and crime heists, a favorite of my dad’s, but never in my life had I imagined I’d be in a standoff.

But then again, I hadn’t bet on the zombie apocalypse either.

“Nobody’s looking for trouble,” I said repeating myself, hoping to stay calm.

“No, we’re not,” the woman said.

I risked looking at Lucas, and even though he was about fifty yards away, I could see the intense focus on his face.

I followed the woman’s gaze to where she looked at the man who had the gun pointed at me.

“Don’t put down your gun, Joan,” the man said.

“Joan, put down your gun,” Lucas said.

“Everyone, let’s just be calm,” I said, hoping to be the voice of reason.

“Joan, put it down,” Lucas repeated.

“Joan, don’t you dare!”

“Lucas, back off,” I said.

“Yeah, Lucas, why don’t you back off,” the man said.

“Percy, let’s just relax,” Joan said.

Her words seemed to have the opposite effect.

The tension, which had been thick, ratcheted up ever so slightly.

She tightened her grip on the gun, and even though I didn’t look at him, I knew Lucas had noticed.

But just as quickly as it had begun, the tension eased.

Joan lowered her weapon and looked at me, her blue eyes sparkling. “Don’t make me regret that.”

“You won’t,” I said. Then I turned. “Lucas.”

He was approaching, his gun still up, and I heard a sound over my shoulder, and saw the man I presumed was Percy approaching.

“Dammit, Joan,” he said, his eyes shooting fire.

“Stuff it, Percy. I haven’t let you boss me around for the past thirty years, and that isn’t going to change, circumstances aside,” she said.

Percy glared at her and then looked at me.

He was a little bit older the Joan, maybe mid-fifties, a little bit of paunch, though I could tell he liked to take care of himself.

And I noticed, even though he was glaring, he had a hint of kindness in his eyes, similar to that I had seen in Joan.

“I’m Angel,” I said.

“Nice to meet you,” Joan said.

She smiled but then instantly turned serious.

“There’s not going to be trouble, is there?”

“Not looking for trouble. Just looking for gas,” Lucas said as he came to a stop next to me.

Joan looked at him, wariness creeping into her expression.

I jumped in quickly, hoping to reassure her. “No, we don’t want any trouble.”

“Good. So since we agree we both don’t want trouble, why don’t we make this quick?” Joan said.

She looked at Percy.

“Why don’t you and Lucas here go inside, see if you find anything useful. We’ll fill up the gas cans,” she said.

“Yeah, I think that’s a good idea,” I said to Lucas.

His expression was that terrifying blank one that I had seen so much at the prison but less of in the last several days.

“I don’t know if I have too much care about what you think right now, Angel,” he said.

I was prepared to insist, mostly to try to ignore the sting of his criticism.

But before I could interject, he looked at Percy. “But we’re wasting time, so let’s get this done.”

Percy looked at him, his disgust clear, but he relented, and side by side, he and Lucas approached the convenience store part of the station.

I went back to the gas cans, which were seconds away from overflowing.

As I worked, Joan came up beside me, helped me seal the cans, and together we grabbed all the others that were there, ten in total, and worked quickly to fill them.

“This is so fucking trippy, isn’t it?” Joan said.

“Understatement,” I responded.

We had worked together efficiently and filled all the cans and had separated them evenly and put them aside to be carried away.

“Are you all right, Angel?” Joan said in a whisper, her tone urgent in a way it hadn’t been before.

I had been busily looking around the station for anything else we might need, but then I looked at her, saw the worry in her eye.

“That man you’re with, Lucas. Are you all right with him?”

“Yeah. I’m fine,” I said.

She didn’t look like she believed me, but whatever she was going to say was lost when Percy came out.

“Where’s Lucas?” I asked.

“He went around back.”

Less than a second later, he emerged from the other side of the convenience store, looking pissed like always.

“Where’s your vehicle?” he asked.

“A bit back that way,” Percy said.

“You two going to be okay here by yourselves while we go get it?” Lucas asked.

“I’ll be fine,” I said, and Joan nodded.

“Okay. I promised Percy I’d help him get filled up, so let’s get this done,” Lucas said.

Lucas and Percy headed off toward a wooded area where their car was located, and Joan and I filled me and Lucas’s vehicle and separated the items they had taken out of the store.

By the time we were done, a silver minivan had pulled up.

We worked in silence, packing the van. After I’d loaded the last bag, Joan grabbed my hand and whispered, “You can come with us.”

She seemed concerned, which touched me, made me think that maybe all wasn’t lost. “I’ll be okay. He’ll take care of me,” I responded, mostly believing it.

She looked like she wanted to argue, but after a moment, she pulled me into a surprisingly strong hug. “You take care, Angel.”

I nodded and then walked back to the truck.

“That wasn’t so bad,” I said as we drove away from the gas station.

“Yeah, you would think that,” he said.

His voice didn’t give anything away, not really, but I looked at him anyway, saw something in his expression even though it was as stoically blank as usual.

I breathed out deep, ready to apologize. “I’m sorry. I deviated from the plan and put us in danger.”

“You did, and that was stupid,” he said, his words all that more impactful because of how matter of fact he was.

“I know,” I whispered.

He nodded but didn’t look particularly satisfied. But I stayed silent, deciding not to push.

“You and your pal Joan were bonding back there, huh?” he asked.

I looked at him quizzically, then nodded. “They seem like good people.”

“But they didn’t try to rescue you?”

“Rescue me from what?” I asked.

He looked over at me, a what-the-fuck-do-you-think expression on his face.

“From you?” I said.

“Yeah.”

“Well, she did say I could come with them,” I said.

“You should have,” he whispered.