Histories of the Void Garden, Book 1: Pyre of Dreams (41 page)

Cobb quipped
suggestively, “If you’re so concerned, why don’t you tag
along?”

In the
shallower and entirely more base recesses of her mind, she’d
admonished herself for the fleeting thought that she would gladly
accompany him to the restrooms. Pleasantly distracted, Stanwick
clipped the curb as she took the exit ramp, letting go of the wheel
as she keeled to the side. Her hand fell on Cobb’s lap and remained
there until she was able to let off the accelerator. Cobb looked
away, blushing, scanning the surroundings for something, anything
to comment on. His eyes were drawn towards a dark plume of smoke
which rose into the sky a short way down the road. He could see,
probably a few hundred yards beyond the gas station and the
conveniences, several fire engines were pulled up alongside a small
strip mall.

“What the hell?
That’s nuts. Looks like a pretty bad fire down there.” He pointed
ahead, eager to demonstrate that this was not a pathetic attempt at
detracting attention from his embarrassment.

Stanwick
flicked her hair back and cut across the road into the parking lot
of the gas station, pulling up by one of the twelve pumps.

“A fire Brad?”
She looked away from the smoke, waiting for Cobb to turn back
around in his seat, “Fire is predictable. Expect to see a lot more
of that.”

“What, you
think that was deliberate?”

Stanwick smiled
and shot a small wave of her hand at Stephanie who was leaning her
head out of the Chevelle’s window as they drove past.

“What do you
think Brad? The president has just announced that money is useless;
what would you do if you weren’t busy being kidnapped?”

He laughed as
she opened the her door and unfastened her seatbelt, “Is that what
this is? Kidnapping?”

She smiled
demurely, “Have you decided you’re here of your own volition?”

“I guess not. I
mean, I was given a choice. Death or …”

“Kidnapping it
is then.”

Although West’s
Mustang was the only vehicle which was close to running on empty,
West, Stanwick and David each fueled their vehicles as the other
members of the party headed into the large gas station. A burger
bar, simply titled ‘Jim’s Joint’ had been built into the far side
of the convenience store and as there was no clear line of
separation between the restaurant and the shop floor, the scent of
fried foods which greeted them was, although not entirely
wholesome, at least sickeningly enticing. It was too much for
Stephanie who, ignoring David’s feeble protestation, headed
straight for the counter, looking over imploringly at the other
adults. David touched Charlene’s shoulder to get her attention, “Do
the eh … the leeches give a shit what we eat?”

Charlene
shrugged, “I’m new to this too. I can tell you, I ate pretty much
everything in my Frigidaire yesterday, ketchup included. I mean,
they seemed fine with hot-dogs and steak. If everything West and
Stanwick have told me is true, I seriously doubt they’ve spent
their lives calorie counting.”

David gave an
awkward smile and asked Charlene if she wanted a burger.

“Sure, make it
a meal.” She looked at Cobb who was browsing a rack filled with
candy bars. Realizing she’d already forgotten his name, she called
over to him, “Hey, mister … Hey!”

He looked up
quizzically, “Yeah?”

“You want
anything from the burger joint?” She looked back at the advertising
hoarding and realized why the word ‘joint’ had suddenly bubbled to
the surface of her vocabulary.

Cobb shook his
head, grimacing and rubbing his stomach, “I’ve eaten so much crap
already today.” His hand still on his stomach, he was suddenly very
conscious of the reason they had taken this unscheduled stop in the
first place. He looked around for the sign for the restroom, then,
having located it over to the right of the register, he looked
through the window at the gas pumps to see if Stanwick or West were
heading in yet.

It looked to
Cobb as if West was done gassing up, but he was now standing
chatting idly with Stanwick. In spite of Stanwick’s dire warning,
Cobb was starting to wonder if he should chance heading to the
restroom on his own when a tall bulky man with a shaved head, torn
denim jacket and shit-kicker boots shouldered past him, his arms
laden with potato chips and a twenty-four pack of Grolsch.

A black girl
who was stood behind the register waved her hand and called after
the man, “Excuse me sir, I think you forgot to pay for your
those.”

The guy barely
glanced over his shoulder, “Screw you lady, the president says I
don’t gotta pay for shit.”

Undaunted by
his size, Cobb grabbed the shoulder of the denim jacket, “Buddy,
quit being a jackass and pay the woman.”

With surprising
swiftness, the skinhead threw his haul onto the floor and thrust
back his left elbow, catching Cobb’s jaw with a dirty blow. Cobb
stumbled backwards into the shelving behind him and fell to the
floor. He had time to admire the sheen of the man’s calf high boot
as it connected with his stomach. This one kick turned out to be as
much as Cobb’s bladder could take. The flood of warmth which seeped
into his pant leg was as relieving as it was humiliating. So great
was the mixture of pain and release that his eyes were half closed
as the torrent of blood spattered his face. It was this second
spray of warm liquid splashing his mouth and chin that confused
Cobb. Mortified by the thought that perhaps he had managed to piss
clean through his pants, Cobb started to shuffle backwards on the
floor. The cashier’s scream that alerted him to the fact that
something much more disturbing was going down than the sight of a
grown man wetting himself.

West threw his
shoulder at the door and was surprised to see that even though the
hulking man’s body was shoved across the floor by the force of
this, it still wasn’t enough to stir Stephanie Beach from her
frenzied attack. He stepped over the man’s legs and headed towards
the cashier, ignoring Cobb’s unflattering state and clinging to the
hope that Charlene would have the sense to deal with the child. The
cashier was hidden from view, but the sound of her screaming sobs
told West that she hadn’t moved from behind the counter. He thought
it would be a small blessing if the owners of this outfit were
cheap enough not to have a panic button installed. An absence of
closed circuit cameras would be a wish too far and with that in
mind, he walked with his head lowered as he rounded the
counter.

Pushing through
the door, Stanwick quickly made for Charlene, tugging her sleeve
and pointing towards the burger bar, “How many?” she whispered.

“God, I don’t
know. David and Stephanie both wanted one, and I could eat, but
Cobb said he was fine.”

Stanwick’s
mouth opened in stunned silence. At crossed purposes, she struggled
to unravel her question from Charlene’s answer. She tried again,
“How many staff?”

Charlene
laughed nervously, then pursed her lips, “I have no idea.” She
followed quickly behind Stanwick as she ran towards the restaurant
section, Stanwick jumping the counter swiftly and tackling two
employees to the ground with as much delicacy as she could manage.
She held her hands over their mouths, “Don’t move, don’t scream and
do not think for a second that I won't kill you both if you screw
up.”

There was a
thin, pale skinned and bespectacled boy pinned under Stanwick’s
left knee and a red headed girl of average build and slightly above
average looks struggling under the weight of her right leg.
Stanwick looked up at Charlene who was hovering awkwardly by an ice
cream machine, “Check the back!”

As Charlene
stalked off between the deep fryers and broilers, Stanwick’s eyes
darted quickly between the two youths, “I bet the sexual tension in
this place is unbearable huh?” She grinned devilishly, looking into
the girl’s eyes, “How do you keep your hands off him huh?” She
could see that they were both scared witless and her attempt at
breaking the ice was not receiving the best reception, “Perhaps I
shouldn’t start these things with death threats?”

The boy’s eyes
widened and started to well with tears, so Stanwick tried again,
“Listen, both of you, this is all a huge mistake okay? No one else
is going to get hurt. The skin-head kind of looks like he’s a goner
but you guys will be just dandy. You really need to pull yourselves
together for me though. Do you think you can do that?”

Both heads
nodded fearfully.

“Good.” She
looked at the girl who seemed to be the calmer of the two, “Now can
you tell me, is there anyone else working besides the cashier?”

The girl shook
her head as much as Stanwick’s hand would allow.

“Okay, can
either of you show me where the security cameras feed to?”

The girl’s brow
furrowed, but the boy’s head nodded barely perceptibly.

“Great. I’m
going to let the two of you stand, okay? Then you’re going to take
me to wherever we need to go, so I can disable the recordings.
Understood?”

She lifted her
hands from their mouths slowly and the boy stammered, “Yes m … Yes
Mam.”

West had
struggled to calm the cashier. She had watched a seven-year-old
girl chew into a man’s neck and she apparently wasn’t prepared to
let go of that thought peaceably. West had looked about the space
behind the counter and had found nothing that would render the girl
unconscious without risking lasting damage. He was hesitant to gag
her, but every time he took his hand from her mouth she screamed.
He yelled aloud, “Stanwick, is there anyone else here?”

Stanwick didn’t
respond, but he heard Charlene’s voice yelling from a distance,
“There’s two in the burger bar, then there’s the dead guy and
us.”

West grimaced
as the girl squirmed beneath his grip, “This one’s a screamer, but
if everything else is under control, we could probably get back on
the road and just let her scream it out.”

Suddenly
Charlene was leaning over the counter above him, “Staci, with an
I.”

West was
confused by her statement, but Charlene waved a hand over the
counter, pointing “There’s a name tag, there on the floor next to
you … I presume it’s hers.”

The girl looked
threatened, her eyes narrowing as her brow knitted. Charlene
thought about the way in which Stanwick had handled the other two
in
Jim’s Joint
and she addressed Staci directly, “Hey,
Staci, take some deep, slow breaths. Close your eyes if you have
to.”

Staci closed
her eyes and started crying more heavily, breathing
erratically.

“Deep breaths
Staci, concentrate on breathing slowly.”

Staci’s inhale
came in three short bursts, each one wheezing and shaky, then when
she exhaled, her lips closed and made a raspberry sound as spit
sprayed in small bubbles into the air in front of her.

Charlene
stifled a laugh, then looking at West she brought her hands to her
mouth and pulled them away in a pantomime exaggeration, hoping he
would understand that she wanted him to let go of the girl.
Charlene wasn’t sure of her own strength, and as West pulled his
hands away from Staci’s face, Charlene punched her lightly on the
jaw, hoping Staci would collapse in a heap. In response, Staci’s
mouth fell wide open and the sound which issued forth from her was
almost sufficient to shake the building’s foundations. Charlene
tried a second time, punching Staci with enough force that the girl
was lifted from her position on the floor, over West’s legs and
into the collapsed heap that Charlene had been aiming for with her
first punch.

West was
dumbfounded, “Yeah, I’m pretty sure I could have managed that. I
was just scared I’d cause her brain damage or something.”

Charlene
gasped, “Can that happen?”

West looked
dismayed, “Are you serious? Sure, it can happen from a lot less
than a punch from the likes us.”

Charlene stared
at Staci who lay still on the floor, breathing slowly, “Do you
think she’ll be alright?”

West stretched
his arms forward and touched Charlene’s shoulders with his hands,
“She’ll be fine, I’m sure.”

It had taken Brad Cobb
a couple of minutes to find anything of use to his predicament.
When he noticed the swim shorts hanging at the end of an aisle
filled with motor oil, bulbs and air fresheners, he had wondered
why a gas station so far from the ocean would stock such an item.
Still, he reasoned, swim shorts were better than urine soaked
pants. He looked down at the pants he was wearing, and remembered;
at least they weren’t his pants. He was half way through the
process of changing into the shorts when he heard Stanwick’s
whistle from the end of the aisle.

“Nice legs Brad
…”

He felt his
face flush with color as he struggled to pull the shorts up, the
netting catching on his feet. She was just standing there watching
him as he stumbled against the shelving.

“You need some
help?”

He turned so
that his rear faced her, “No … no I’m fine, thanks.”

Stanwick saw
that out on the forecourt, another two cars had just pulled up to
the pumps, “Guys, we need to get it together now!”

David stood by
the door, holding Stephanie’s head close to his side. He looked at
the limp lump of skin-head on the floor.

“I think he’s
still breathing.”

Stanwick
grinned, “Marvelous. Not even a day out the gate and it looks like
Stephanie might have sired her first Blood-Bastard.”

David grimaced
as she looked at the pool of blood by Stephanie’s feet, “What do
you mean?”

“She got her
teeth in good David, it’s possible that some of the leeches made
the transfer from her saliva. He might just be on his last legs
though. I wouldn’t over think it. Either way, we have to leave him
and hope for the best.”