Stephenie Meyer - The Chemist

“Pump six,” she said in the lowest register that wouldn’t sound put on.

Beverly looked up, and her mascara-smeared eyes opened round.

“Aw, sweet hell, honey! What happened to your face?”

“Car accident,” Alex muttered.

“Everyone okay?”

“Yeah.” Alex looked pointedly down at the cash in her hand, waiting to count it out. From the corner of her eye, she saw the taxi drive away.

“Well, I hope you feel better soon.”

“Um, thanks. What’s the total?”

“Oh, is this right? Seems high. One-oh-three fifty-five?”

Alex handed Beverly six twenties and waited for the change. Another truck – a big, black F-250 – pulled into the pump behind the Humvee. She watched as three tall thin men got out. As two of them walked into the minimart, she revised her assessment. They were very tall teenage boys; half of a basketball team, maybe. Like her, they wore dark hoodies. At least that made her unseasonable getup look more normal.

“That sure is a big truck you got out there,” Beverly commented.

“Yeah.”

“Must be a pain to keep that thing full.”

“Yeah.” Alex held her hand out impatiently.

The boys came in, noisy and boisterous. The smell of beer and marijuana drifted in through the door with them. Outside, the work truck pulled out of the lot.

“Oh, here you go,” Beverly said, her voice suddenly impersonal. “Sixteen forty-five.”

“Thanks.”

Beverly was distracted by the newcomers. She stared over Alex’s head, her eyes narrowed. The big boys were headed for the liquor aisle. Hopefully they would be a huge pain as they tried to get fake IDs past Beverly. Anything that would make Alex fade in her memory.

Alex headed for the automatic door with her head down. She didn’t need more than one witness.

With a thud, her head knocked into the chest of the third boy. The first thing she registered was the smell; his sweatshirt reeked of whiskey. She looked up automatically when he grabbed her by the shoulders.

“Watch yourself, little playa.”

He was a thick white kid, not as tall as the others. She tried to shake him off. He held on tighter with one hand, yanking her hood back with the other.

“Hey, it’s a girl.” Then louder, toward the boys by the refrigerated cases, “Looky what I found.”

Alex’s voice was ice. She was not in the mood for this nonsense. “Get your hands off me.”

“You leave that gal alone or I’m calling the police,” Beverly called shrilly. “I’ve got the phone in my hand.”

Alex wanted to scream. This was all she needed.

“Relax, old bag, we got plenty to go around.”

The other two, one black, one Hispanic, were already in place to back their friend up. Alex slid a thin syringe from her belt. This wouldn’t help her stay under the radar, but she had to put this kid down and get out of here before Beverly called the cops.

“I’ve dialed the nine and the first one,” Beverly warned them. “You all get out now.”

Alex tried to yank herself out of the boy’s grip, but the grinning idiot had both hands locked around her upper arms now. She angled the needle.

“Is there a problem, son?”

Nooooo , Alex moaned internally.

“What?” the white kid said aggressively, dropping her and pivoting to face the newcomer. He then took a quick step back, and she had to duck out of his way.

She’d spent so much time around Daniel that she’d forgotten how tall he really was. He had an inch on even the tallest kid, and he stood with wider shoulders and much more assurance. At least he’d put a ball cap on, hiding his hair and shading his face a little. The beginnings of his beard were dark enough to slightly camouflage the contours of his face. That was good. But it was not good that he’d stuck a Glock – in a very obvious way – into the waistband of his jeans.

“No, no problem, man,” the black kid said. He grabbed the white kid’s shoulder and tugged him back a step.

“Good. Why don’t you head on out, then?”

The white kid thrust his chest forward. “When we get what we came for.”

Daniel did something different with the way he held his jaw. Alex couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but suddenly his face was the opposite of friendly. He leaned in toward the troublemaker.

“Now.”

There was no bluster in how he spoke, just absolute authority.

“C’mon,” the black kid insisted. He shoved the white kid past Daniel while tugging on the sleeve of the third boy. They walked quickly to the truck, elbowing each other and scuffling a little. Alex kept her back to Beverly, nudging Daniel so he would turn that way, too. The boys got in the truck and the driver punched the gas, swerving around the Humvee with tires squealing.

“Hey, thanks, buddy,” Beverly cooed at him. “I appreciate your help.”

“Sure thing,” he responded, holding one arm out courteously for Alex to exit first.

Alex hurried back to the Humvee. She could feel Daniel close behind her and just hoped he had the sense to keep his head down and not turn around.

“Well, I don’t know how that could have gone worse,” Alex said disgustedly when they were back on the road. “That woman will remember us for the rest of her natural life.”

“Sorry.”

“You just had to go in there like some cowboy, with a gun in your pants.”

“We do have Texas plates,” he pointed out. “And what was I supposed to do? That kid was -”

“Was about to have a violent and prolonged episode of projectile vomiting. It would have incapacitated him totally and perhaps made enough of a mess that Beverly would have forgotten all about me.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh, indeed. I can take care of myself, Daniel.”

His jaw suddenly got hard again, like it had in the gas station store. “I know that, Alex, but there might actually come a time when you need help. When that happens, I’m not going to be waiting in the car again. You should probably wrap your head around that now.”

“I’ll tell you when I need backup.”

“And I’ll be there,” he snapped.

She let the quarrel drop, and for a moment there was no sound but the roar of the oversize engine burning through the new gas. Then he sighed.

“I should have known you were one step ahead,” he said.

She nodded her acceptance of the implied apology, though she had mixed feelings about his declarations.

“Where did you learn how to do that?” she asked after another short lull.

“What?”

“Intimidate people.”

“My school isn’t exactly an exclusive private prep. Anyway, most kids just want someone to take control. It makes them feel more secure.”

She laughed. “Then those boys will sleep sound tonight.”

The rest of the night was less fraught. Daniel dozed against the window, snoring lightly, until the next gas stop, about twenty miles east of Dallas. The sleepy man in the booth showed no interest in Alex’s face. When they were away from the gas station’s cameras, she pulled off on a dark shoulder and traded seats with Daniel. He claimed to be wide awake and ready. She napped as best she could until the next stop, south of Shreveport, where they switched seats again.

Dawn was coming. Alex searched the fancy GPS for a close-by national park or wildlife reserve and found they were not far from the huge expanse of the Kisatchie National Forest. She headed for the corner of the park that came closest to the I-49, then wandered through back roads until she found an area isolated and overgrown enough that she felt comfortable pulling over into the thick shade of some tightly grouped trees. She backed into a barely wide enough space between the tree trunks and then reversed until there was just room for the rear hatch to open. When she cracked her door, the humid heat outside quickly overpowered the cooler air inside the vehicle.