Mark Tufo - 'Til Death Do Us Part

“Thank you, Justin,” she said tenderly.

“For what?” he asked, thinking she might be setting him up for something.

“Just for being there.” Then she did laugh a little as his chest puffed out.

“I can keep us safe,” he told her. “Or I’ll die trying.”

“Just stick to the safe part, brother, the baby is going to need his uncles.”

“I know I don’t say it often, Nicole, but I love you. Brendan was my friend, and I miss him, too. I’ll do whatever I need to so that we all stay safe.”

“Thank you, baby brother. I love you, too.”

“Now move your fat ass over so I can sit down.”

“There’s the Justin, I know and love.”

Travis came in carrying some plates loaded with sandwiches and bread.

“Thanks, man,” Justin said to his brother.

“These are mine, go get your own,” Travis said as he sat down across from his siblings.

“Travis!” Tracy called from the kitchen.

“Fine,” he said as he stuffed a handful of the chips from Justin’s plate into his mouth before handing it over.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

D, G & BT

“I’m running low on cigarettes,” Deneaux said.

“Good, because I don’t know how much longer I had before black lung kicked in,” BT said as he drove the big truck down the near empty highway.

“We need to stop for fuel and clothes for Gary anyway,” Mrs. Deneaux pleaded.

“What’s wrong with my clothes?” Gary asked.

“Please, I’ve smelled dumps on hot summer days that are pleasantly aromatic compared to you,” she told him.

“I can’t imagine you ever going to a dump,” BT said to her.

“I’ve had reason,” she replied flatly.

“I don’t even want to know,” BT said.

“I wouldn’t tell you anyway. All I know is that if I run out of cigarettes I plan on making your life a living hell,” she told him.

BT laughed. “Ah, as if I’m living the dream right now.”

“I do kind of smell bad,” Gary said, pulling his shirt up to his nose.

“I know you do, buddy. I just didn’t want to give her the satisfaction.” BT paused before speaking again. “I hate pulling off the highway, all the shit happens when we do.”

“Beats walking,” Gary said.

“Barely.”

“We’re coming up on some gas stations,” Mrs. Deneaux said with some excitement as she pointed to the blue information highway sign.

“Everyone locked and loaded?” BT asked as he got over to the right lane and put his blinker on. “Habit,” he said aloud when he noticed Gary and Mrs. Deneaux looking at him. BT got to the bottom of the exit ramp; there were two stations to the right and one to the left. “Any preference?” he asked the group.

“More chance of supplies with the two stations,” Deneaux said.

“And more chances people have been there,” Gary answered.

BT put his blinker on, signaling his intention of going left. “Sorry, it’s difficult to break a twenty-year old habit.” BT stayed on the roadway, with the truck idling as they looked closely at the gas station.

“It’s definitely had visitors,” Gary said, looking over Deneaux’s shoulder.

“Would you mind not getting too close?” she asked him with no small measure of venom in her voice. She had smoked her last cigarette over five minutes previous and she was already feeling the effects of withdrawal—whether real or imagined—it didn’t matter. She was getting as angry as a republican at a tree hugging ceremony. “You just going to sit here?” she asked BT, not hiding her hostility. Before he could even answer, she had opened her door and was climbing down. When her feet hit the ground she pulled the revolver from its harness.

“I feel sorry for whatever poor bastard gets in her way,” BT said.

“I think I see some t-shirts.” Gary peered into the store’s smashed front windows. The gas station was more of the variety store that just happened to sell gas than an outright petrol server. It was resplendent with cheap souvenirs made in China reminding travelers that they had visited the great state of Virginia. Gary climbed down also.

BT swung the truck into the station. When he shut it off, it was the quiet more than anything that unnerved him. It just wasn’t a natural silence. “Gary. Diesel?” he asked when he got the other man’s attention.

Gary pointed to the large side tank on the truck, outlined in crisp yellow letters was the word ‘diesel.’

“Yeah you can kiss my ass, too,” BT said as he went over to the underground filling tanks. Maybe we should just steal a damn fuel truck , he thought as he pulled the small metal disc up. Then he remembered the old Mel Gibson movie Road Warrior and rethought his plan. “Yeah that didn’t work out so well either.”

BT walked into the store. It looked a lot more intact than he would have expected. Not perfect, but there were still some supplies left and at least half of the shelving was still up. Gary had found a five gallon jug of water and a bar of soap. He placed the water carefully on top of one of the remaining standing shelves. He then stripped off most of his clothes before popping the top on the water. BT turned away quickly when he realized Gary’s tightie-whities were going to be see-through as soon as they got wet.

Deneaux was rummaging in the back of the clerk counter. “They only have fucking menthol!” she fumed. “Do I look black!” she was full-on shouting now.

“That’s kind of racist don’t you think?” BT asked.

“It’s not racist if it’s the truth,” she said looking up. “Why you black people like to smoke them is beyond me.”

“First off, I don’t smoke.”

“Oh I was just using generalizations. Help me find something for a more civilized palate.”

BT walked away. He went into the service bay looking for something that would help him get some gas out of the ground. I wonder? he thought as he unscrewed a hand pump from a fifty gallon drum of what appeared to be waste oil. He found a large-throated hose that screwed on to the assembly. “Glad no one else thought of this,” he said, going out the garage door instead of going back past Gary and the vitriol spewing Deneaux.

He silently cursed himself when he walked past the window and looked in. Gary had thought better of keeping the underwear on and was now completely unclothed except for his untied boots.

“Well there’s something I’ll never be able to unsee,” BT said, heading towards the tank.

He dropped the hose into it and then unfurled the rest so that he was sitting at the tank of the truck before he started pumping. He was twenty cranks in and was about to call his idea a ‘flub’ when he felt the diesel pulsing through the line.

“Sweet!” He said as he quickly got the spigot into the tank opening.

After a few moments, Gary came out wearing a pink ‘Virginia is for Lover’s’ t-shirt and a pair of surfer shorts.

“Nice duds,” BT told him.

“Better than what I had on.”

BT could only agree.

“I’m gonna grab anything I think we can use,” Gary said. “Do you need anything?”

“Deneaux still going nuts in there?” BT asked between hand cranks.

“She seems to have calmed down since she started smoking. She keeps saying something about black people and their uncouth tastes. I’m going to grab some cleaning stuff, too, and see if I can get the back of the truck clean enough to get back into.”

“You’re going to leave me alone up front with Deneaux?”

Gary shrugged and headed back into the store. “Better you than me.”