Fuel
By J. L. Young A motorcycle pulled next to a gas pump. The rider dismounted and walked toward the convenience store. It was clear in the lights of the island; the rider had a feminine figure. She approached the doors dressed from head to toe with black leather. Inside, she stepped up to the counter and rested her closed hand on the top, and said with a cold, direct tone, “Fuel.” “How much?” the attendant asked. The woman opened her hand and presented two perfectly round pebbles, gleaming under the fluorescent lights. “I can’t accept those, only cash, debit, or credit.” “Fuel,” the woman repeated as she raised her hand, palm side up, signaling to the pebbles to rise from the countertop. The attendant stepped back. “That’s a nice trick, but I can’t give you gas without money. I’m sorry.” Another attendant stepped out of an office behind the counter. “Is there a problem?” A flick of the wrist sent a pebble hurtling toward the man with supervisor above his name badge. It shot clear through his skull. Before he collapsed, the sphere returned, shedding the blood accumulated upon it and hovering beside the other. He fell and convulsed for a second before ceasing. The attendant stood in shock at what had transpired. “Fuel,” she repeated toward the attendant. “You killed him!” The woman’s non-reflective helmet glanced down at the supervisor and back up at the attendant. “Fuel.” The attendant approached the point-of-sale computer and entered a code. “There, the pump is ready. Take what you need.” The woman returned to the pump and replenished the tank. Her pebbles hovered above the counter as the attendant stared intently, fearing if she moved, she’d suffer the same fate as her supervisor. For the attendant, the nearly four and a half gallons took an eternity to fill. The pump shut off, and the woman stuffed the nozzle back into its receptacle. She sealed the tank and remounted the bike, started it, and sped off. The pebbles accelerated, breaking through the safety glass window, and returning to their owner. She braced herself on the counter. Her hands fumbled for the phone and dialed. “Nine one one, what is your emergency?” Frantically she spoke, “He’s dead! He’s dead! She killed him!” “Take a breath. What’s your name?” She squeezed her eyes shut and forced a breath in and out. “Ellie. Ellie Adino.” “That’s a beautiful name, Ellie. Tell me what happened.” “My boss. Some evil bitch came into the store and killed my boss!” “I’m sending someone to help. Where are you located?” Ellie looked down at her supervisor’s soulless eyes staring back at her. She swallowed and her voice shifted and wavered. “13338 Central St. It’s the Dashin’ Dino Fuel station.” “I know it well, Ellie. I’ll stay on the line until the officers arrive.”
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May 2024
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