The Pit Stop

The road was long, and the gas was cheap. 

It had been the kind of drive that seemed made only of highways, of concrete ribbons unfurling into eternity and stuttered with exit signs gone so quick their memory lasted longer than their moment. Justin was on this road for seventy miles more, had been on for thirty miles past, and hadn’t noticed the fuel gauge needle hardly a hair’s breadth from E. The gas light had yet to be lit, but the dull place where it might bored a hole into the peace of his subconsciousness. 

Which is why it felt such a blessing when the rest stop’s entrance ramp materialized from the dark the way it did. Justin swerved the car to the right, skirting over slashed lines and just barely making it onto the road before it gave way to grass. He swore, steadied the wheel with a shaking hand. They really should have put up a sign.

Perhaps they had, and he’d merely missed it. He had after all somehow slept through his driving off a full tank of gas. It wouldn't be a difficult thing to manage, the sky tonight was a hungry kind of dark that sunk its teeth into any and all sources of light near. Shadows fell like curtains atop every distinguishing feature he could set eyes on, muffling their faces and transforming them into strange, unfamiliar shapes that prickled his skin when he stared too long. He could see nothing of the night sky, not the moon nor the horizon. Not even the stars. The sole source of light sat before him, urging him closer like a moth to a flame. Justin had never been one to be afraid of the dark, but in this there seemed something more. Anything could be lurking beneath its cover, anything at all.

It was bad out. Justin marveled at missing this too, drawing his thin jacket near as the car glided to a stop besides the sole gas pump. This was strange too— in truth the whole place was strange, lit only by a dim streetlight and the harsh fluorescent glow from the squat grey convenience store. Something about it made his skin crawl, and yet beggars could not be choosers. He zipped his jacket to his chin, stepped out the car and felt the air turn to ice in his nose. 

Frozen fingers fumbled for his wallet, fought to extract his debit card from its stiff leather clutches. The air was alive around him, charged with a kind of ferocity he had never once known. It lashed at his throat, bit at his fingers, dug needles of ice into the stitches of his clothes. He hunched his shoulders in defense, stuck the thin plastic card into the reader and looked up to press numb fingers onto the screen only to find it a dull black. It was out of order, but the pump wasn’t. A scrawled note taped above the nozzle, glossily laminated against the elements informed him he could pay inside. 

It was this most of all that pooled unease in his gut. The convenience store was bright against the dark, mesmerizingly so but that failed to settle his nerves. The grim voice at the back of his mind likened it to the traps people set up for the bugs outside. A bright light, harshly foreign in its unnaturalness and yet a irresistible beacon to those fluttering creatures which draw too near. Electricity humming a constant growl no prey would ever heed, entranced as they were with the oasis of light.

Fear struck suddenly hard— he wanted to get back in his car, peel out into the dark where there most certainly must be an exit but he considered this only a moment. And drive where? He’d be lucky if the next rest stop was thirty miles out, thirty miles his car most certainly did not have in it. 

He tucked his wallet back into his pocket, and went inside. 

There was no one at the register. Justin took notice of this for a moment, craned his neck over the aisles to get a glimpse of someone he might call over but the back of the store seemed just as empty as the front. His stomach growled, eyes stopped on the row of chips and candy. He was hungry. Well, he’d been on the road a while and would be on it for plenty more. A snack seemed well deserved. 

Barbecue, salt and vinegar, sour cream and onion. Chocolates and hard candy, desiccated strips of jerky that looked as though they’d survive a nuclear strike. Justin wandered aimlessly, glancing back every so often to check on the register. Still empty. 

The row seemed to go on forever, flavor options becoming increasingly stranger and abstract. Ice cream and heartbreak. Envy. Waking at dawn. He could no longer see the register behind him, tried turning back but found the wrappers (fear of lost potential, absent friend, airplane takeoff) completely different from those he’d just passed. He continued anyways, legs aching and throat uncomfortably dry. 

There was no telling how long he’d been in there now. Justin’s body slumped against a little rack of fist sized cakes that squealed when touched. Thoughts of his car seemed as distant as that of other people, each of which he struggled to recall as his chin tucked flush against his neck. The ground thuds beneath him as he listed sideways against the rack, eyes half-lidded. Something large was drawing near. Sleek and shiny, the creature was humanoid only if he squinted until his vision blurred. It was light blue, perfectly eyeless, but with a wide mouth of needle thin teeth. It considered the cakes for a moment, talon tracing the shelf before glancing down. Its mouth curled. “They restock quick.” It reached down to grab him by the hair, drawing him up by his lolling head to look into Justin’s hazy eyes. “And always stale. Can’t expect much from the convenient I suppose.” 

It continued down the aisle, new purchase tucked under its arm.