Dark brown rain like whiskey percolated through the cracked windows of a 1989 Buick LeSabre, bonding with the unappreciated surface of torn and discolored leather inside of the filthy car. The vehicle traveled south on a desolate and mundane open road as the sun began to set, cutting through pools of rain, slowly increasing in speed. 65 mph..70 mph..75 mph.
. Travis looked at his watch. It was 6:30 PM. He sat in the driver seat with a blank face in silence, gazing into the dim distance aimlessly. A military grade laptop sat in the passenger seat on low power mode. A tape played in the cassette player. From a calm yet aged voice came somewhat of a sermon :
Then--welcome. Welcome to the inner circle. If you're here, standing here with me, then you have reached your moment. You went through a lot of shit to find me and now… here I am. You survived Redrow, survived Rikers. You're rushing towards a truth. Just keep listening. Keep understanding these words beyond what you perceive as "cue-card bullshit".. and I promise you, kid. You will find your purpose.
Suddenly the laptop screen flashed.
BLINK!
Travis looked over at the laptop, and then back to the road as the car began to approach an upcoming gas station. Travis slowed the car down at the station and pulled up at Pump 7. The gas tank was borderline empty. Two middle aged men stood at the adjacent pump watching as Travis pulled in. Travis exited the car. The men watched as he entered the station. Travis looked back, grilling both of the men in what became a quick dick measuring contest in which the two men lost, breaking their stare as Travis entered the station.
He walked up to the counter, looked outside the window at the gas prices advertised and said "Give me $10 on Pump 7" handing the cashier a $20 bill. The cashier looked over Travis' shoulder then back at the computer monitor and replied "Yeah just give me a second bro, the computer is acting retarded, I have to wait for the manager. He's closing the back"
Travis took a deep breath. He started to tap the side of his leg with his thumb, quickly becoming agitated. The cashier noticed Travis' disheveled demeanor and asked "Busy day, dude?" Travis looked out the window again, this time at his car and responded "Yeah, that sounds about right. Is the manager on his way up?" Travis asked impatiently.
"Nah he's fucking stupid. You know what, I can just take cash. I'm sorry about this" the Cashier said, manually opening the cash register. Suddenly an emergency broadcast came on the television:
"News that you can count on, this is KIRO 7!"..." Good Evening I'm Monica Belfast with an important news update. The city of Seattle is now in a state of emergency after several city blocks were left without power and winds continue to pick up, increasing in velocity as the storm makes its way further north-"
The Cashier scooped up change from the register and said "Damn that storm must be chasing me. You headed home? Wanna stack up on some munchies before you lock yourself inside for the next twenty-four? I can give you a discount for the inconvenience." The cashier asked. Travis stared at the T.V. screen. "No, I'm not actually, I got some stuff I need to do. Work. You know how it is" Travis said. The Cashier handed Travis his change. "You're fuckin nuts dude. We're closing as soon as I process this transaction and getting the hell outta here. Be safe, bro. Use pump eight, it's the only one open" He said.
Travis exited the station without responding and walked towards his car. He entered the Buick, put it in reverse, and backed up to Pump 8. All the cars parked minutes ago were now gone. The sound of the downpour and thunder began to sound more violent.
Before he exited the car he pulled the latch under the steering wheel to unlock the trunk, ignoring the almost empty gas tank. As he exited the car he looked around for witnesses and with a tight fist he jabbed the button for diesel and removed the nozzle. He quickly thrusted the fuel pump nozzle into the crevice of the open trunk, filling it with diesel fuel.
Small, muffled screams from the trunk were barely heard under the heavy rainfall, as commercial ads play on the gas pump television monitor:
"MMMMMM!"...
"Dry hands? Try Sanguine Plus! Guaranteed to smoothen rough skin with its deep penetrating aloe beads-"
"MMMMMMMM!" "MMMMMMMM!" Phil screamed.
"Skin can become dry due to overpriced detergents and outside elements. Why wait? Guaranteed smooth skin in 30 days or your money back!"
As the flow of gas stopped, Travis removed the nozzle from the crevice, placed it back in it's respective slot and closed the trunk.
BUZZ! BUZZ!
His cell phone began to vibrate in his pocket. He pulled it out to reveal a text message from an unknown number:
Server 44 is down.
After reading the text, Travis slammed the phone on the ground, stomped it and kicked it into a sewage drain across the lot. He entered the car, and started the engine. He reached inside the glove compartment for a pack of cigarettes, grabbed one, and paused as the heavy rainfall began to slowly stop. The rapid drops hitting the roof came to a calm. Travis placed the cigarette between his lips. "Not the luckiest motherfucker in the world right now, are you Phil?" He said as he gazed off at his immediate front, almost in a daze.
He snapped out of it. Then along came a spider he said to himself.
Travis grabbed a black lighter from the center console and lit the cigarette, inhaling while shifting gears and exhaling smoke while hitting the gas, speeding off into the distance.