If only he knew then, he would not have bought cigarettes and Red Bull.

  His eyes were pulled to the television in the top corner of the gas station store. A news program was on, warning for some catastrophe. It seemed to be the standard programming—every day another way to die.

  “Sir?” the smiling register woman drove his attention back. She was young, in the prime of her life. With the warm summer evening she undid the top buttons of her store shirt. Gene sneaked in a peek. A smile formed on his lips as he watched the girl wink at him.

  “That would be 8.55, please.” Her eyes lingered a bit too long. Gene wetted his lips.

  “Can you scribble 10 random digits on the receipt?”

  The girl looked confused for a second, then smiled again and scribbled her phone number on the receipt.

  “I really like this store.”

  Gene took the receipt. He let his hand linger on hers for just a second. She flinched at the touch. Her cheeks colored slightly. Gene winked and walked out of the store into his car. His eyes rested on the gas prices.

  “Pfff.”

  He started his electric vehicle. On the car desk his phone sat as a notebook, navigator, radio, and phone. Three more stops and then back home. Gene opened the Red Bull, lit a cigarette, and went on the highway. His favorite music boomed through the speakers.

  ***

  He was on the road for 30 minutes or so when his phone rang. His supervisor. Gene threw out the cigarette and inhaled. The company he worked for was not doing well. People seemed to have less to spend every month. Every call from the supervisor was not a happy one. Still, being employed in this economy was more than most could say.

  Gene pressed the button on his steering wheel.

  “Yes, Gene here.”

  On the other end some paper rustled.

  “Hello, Jake?” Gene tried.

  “Gene?” A question the supervisor never bothered to learn his name.

  “Yes, this is Gene, i am on route to a customer.” Gene better cleared it before Jake had to admit he had no idea.

  “Gene, I am sorry to say this.” The voice of Jake sounded slow, with a lot of false breath in between words.

  Shit.

  “The company filed for bankruptcy this morning. We can no longer afford you.”

  Gene took a sip of his Red Bull, a luxury he could not afford since now.

  “Thank you for letting me know, Jake.” Asshole.

  “Take care, son.”

  With that the music continued as Jake hung up. Great, Gene thought. What now?

  At the first turn he could, Gene turned his car and drove back. Perhaps he would go back to the store, see if the girl was still there. A good fuck would clear his mind.

  He stopped by the gas station. There was a line to pump gas. Gene put his electric vehicle next to a charging station. Out of order. His range was still 50 miles, so he would get to another one. Gene exited his vehicle. He noticed profanities came from the gas pumping side.

  “Fucking arses,” a large woman with a baby on her arm cursed.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, holding out two palms to calm her down.

  “These prices and they are out of gas.” The woman spat toward the gas station. “And then they quickly closed shop.” the woman, walked all her parts seem to have to be reminded of that and wobbled with her half a second later. “I have only 30 miles left.” She flipped of the gas station. Gene looked at her car. filled with boxes of candy, soda and other things. the baby chair on the passenger seat was covered in wrappers.

  Gene looked at the shop. It was dark inside. Someone had threw a stone at it. It left a star shape mark on the large reinforced glass windows and now lay on the tarmac. Gene looked at it. The honking and curses swelled.

  He saw the girl from earlier sitting down on a bench at the resting area. She smoked a cigarette. Their eyes met. The girl quickly looked left and right, then moved with a quick pace away from there.

  Gene laughed. It was not the first false number he got.

  He wanted to step into his car again when he noticed the sun had set. The sun had set and the street lights did not turn on.

  When he opened his door, the cursing stopped. A loud noise spread over the station as every phone broadcasted an emergency signal.

  Gene sat in his car, closed the door, and read the emergency.

  “All over the country electricity can be falling out at times due to the bankruptcy of the electric company. The government is busy taking over. Be safe.”

  Gene looked at the range of his car. Home was no longer reachable. A hotel or motel he could not afford. He wondered if he should try the next station or if he should stay here, hoping tomorrow there would be power again.

  His phone looked at the next charging station. 25 miles. The wrong way. Gene turned the car and drove that way. He wanted to avoid sleeping in his car.

  ***

  15 miles in he had to stop. Some cars in front of him started to press their claxon.

  “A traffic jam?” Gene looked out of his window. “Here? Now?”

  “Fucking move!” he heard from the car in front of him.

  Gene looked and saw the fat lady from the gas station. Apparently she had the same idea. None of the cars moved. Gene cursed under his breath as he saw the range of his car go down.

  He stepped out and went to look. In front of the miniature traffic jam was a truck. The truck collided with a car, and together they blocked the whole road.

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  “Is emergency already called?” he asked the car closest to him.

  “The number is busy,” the man behind the wheel said back.

  There was a woman still in the car. Gene walked toward her.

  “Are you OK?”

  The woman had a huge blue spot on her head. The airbag lay deflated in her lap.

  “Head hurts,” the woman said, her eyes squinting and relaxing.

  “I think you have a concussion,” Gene said.

  The woman nodded.

  “Can you get out?”

  Gene opened her door. He stared at her for a while. With small gashes, blood dripped from a wound on her thigh.

  “Stuck,” the woman replied. “Dizzy.”

  Gene noticed only now that her complexion was getting lighter. He looked around and beckoned another to come.

  “What’s wrong?” A large man looked at the woman in the car.

  “Holy fuck.” He looked at Gene, his eyes wide. “She needs medical attention or she is going to—”

  Gene shushed him and walked back toward the traffic jam.

  “Is there someone with medical knowledge?” he screamed.

  No answer.

  “Please call again,” he said to the man.

  “No use. No reach.”

  Gene went back to the woman. Her eyes were fixed upon him. Her complexion grew lighter with every heartbeat.

  “We must do something,” he said to the large man next to him.

  “Does anyone have a medkit?” the large man yelled.

  No answer again.

  “Do you know a tourniquet?”

  The large man undid his belt.

  “Well, I’ve seen it in a movie once,” Gene exhaled.

  Together they put the belt around the bleeding leg of the woman and tightened it. The woman moaned from pain.

  “It is still bleeding.”

  Gene felt his heart racing, his throat running dry.

  “It needs tighter.”

  The large man gave him a large metal pipe. Gene tried to screw on the tourniquet as strong as possible.

  “I’m sorry,” he said to the woman.

  The woman did not moan. She just looked at Gene, her eyes not blinking.

  Gene looked at her, waiting for a blink.

  The large man put his hand on Gene’s shoulder.

  Gene felt his forehead. He walked back to his car. Every step he shook his head, looking back to the car with the dead woman.

  “This is madness,” he told himself.

  As he looked in his own car his music stopped. Gene quickly took his phone.

  Battery full.

  No service.

  He stood next to his car looking at his phone, wondering what the hell he should do.

  ***

  The darkness had a different feeling that night. Light pollution from nearby towns and villages was no longer bothering the sky. Gene sat in his car looking at it. He got a Snickers bar from the fat lady, who apparently had snacks galore. She sold them for 5 bucks a piece now. It had not made her loved. She did not seem to care.

  Yelling carried in the night sky from the front of the jam. Gene stuck his head out of his window. The truck driver of the broken truck was pushed with his back toward the truck, swearing like only a truck driver could.

  “Swines! Born out of your mothers’ shit lumps.”

  Gene saw someone hitting the truck driver with a piece of pipe. He was quiet now. Blood dripped from the edge of his lip and his nose.

  “Oh shit.” Gene carefully walked toward it. The man that had helped with the woman held him back, one large hand on his chest. Not violent, just a mild pressure on his chest.

  “What now?” Gene asked.

  “The truck has half a tank of diesel fuel,” the man said. “So we plan to siphon it so we can leave.” The large man pointed toward the truck driver. “He disagreed. We offered him fair money for it.”

  Another man with a jerry can was doing exactly that.

  “You know,” the man said to him, smiling, “there was an internet rule somewhere that said society is only three meals thick.” He turned his head toward Gene. “I guess that was too generous.”

  “But you still take the fuel?” Gene asked him while pursing his lips and nodding.

  “Wouldn’t you?” the man said.

  “Easy to say no when I drive electric.” Gene looked at the ten cars that made up his traffic jam. Four of them were electric; they had nowhere to go. Waiting for warmer weather and trying to get back to civilization was the best they could do.

  One man was holding the truck driver. He came out of a diesel car. The siphoner was another diesel driver. The large man was three. The others either wanted no part of it or were driving gasoline cars.

  “How long would it take for the others to siphon all the gas to one car?” Gene asked the man.

  “Snicker lady already asked to buy it.” The man was carrying the jerry can to his car and filling his tank. “How long before the law of the strongest, you think?”

  Gene let out an audible smirk. He looked at the truck driver. The man sat with his back leaning on a big wheel of the truck holding his broken nose.

  “About fifteen minutes ago.”

  ***

  Three cars left. A couple that arrived in one of the electric cars pushed their car onto the lane and hitched a ride with the large man.

  “You’re sure you don’t wanna ride?” he asked Gene.

  “My car is all I have.” He looked at the Tesla. “I’ll survive.” He tapped on the roof of the car.

  The man waved him goodbye and they left.

  Gene walked back toward his car and passed the Snicker lady. She was in heavy discussion with one of the other drivers.

  “I just need some water. I am fucking parched,” the man said.

  The woman had her window on a small slit.

  “So you fucking pay. I will not give away my last drinks.”

  “I told you.” The man hit the top of the sedan hard with his fist. The woman didn’t flinch. The baby started crying.

  “I do not carry cash.”

  “How is that my problem? Price just went up because you woke my fucking baby.”

  “You fat fuck of a human!”

  The man left and went into his own car. Gene saw what he took.

  “She has a child!” he pleaded toward the man.

  The man walked two paces toward Gene, his left fist up.

  “You have something to say?”

  “You can have some water from me. I have half a bottle left.” Gene reached out with his bottle. “No need to get all violent.”

  “The fatso has cartons full of it,” the man said. “She will share.” The man smiled. “She will learn.”

  The man showed the glass breaker to the woman.

  “Last chance.”

  The woman flipped him off.

  Yep, Gene thought. Civilization already was too thin to begin with.

  The man broke the window of the car. The woman screamed.

  “I will sue you so hard.”

  The man broke another window with the hammer.

  “Who are you gonna call, huh?”

  “Hey.”

  The truck driver came closer, two bottles of water in his hand.

  “Here. Leave her alone.”

  Gene looked at the man with open mouth, his nose still broken by the attack, now offering water to calm things down.

  “This is not about the water.”

  The man hammered the front shield of the car.

  “This is teaching the fat FUCK,” he screamed. The smile on his face widened, his eyes narrowed.

  The woman was no longer yelling profanities. She was looking at the man with big eyes.

  “A fucking lesson.”

  With that the hammer hit the temple of the fat lady. She moaned. The man hit again.

  The truck driver moved and grabbed the arm.

  “Have you lost it, man?”

  The man hit the truck driver with the hammer, then turned toward the woman again.

  Her ears dripped with blood. One eye did not open again.

  “Where is your fat fucking mouth now, bitch?”

  The lady aimed a small handgun and shot the man with the hammer three times. Two in his stomach. One missed.

  The gun fell on the ground, still smoking.

  The fat woman violently spasmed in the car until that also stopped.

  The crying of the baby remained.