Faltered light

Part 3: There is just something about gas stations

Calla

We finally reach the edge between the forest and the road.  James reassures me that the gas station is not too far off from here. If you had asked me what I would be doing on Saturday,  I would have said watching tv, completing some unfinished homework and packing up my things — It was the last couple weeks of school since everyone would be leaving, going off to college or staying to work in town — why was I doing homework?  well because I liked completing tasks and since everyone else was out having fun, I wanted to savor the last moments of being in my room going over my routine one last time. I will not be going anywhere — no college dorm, no life — I am in the middle of nowhere after watching the friendliest man that probably ever lived, dig into someone's face. Mr. Cardellini. His name rings through my mind and a compilation of memories follow — After his wife died, you would think he would be miserable and grumpy but he only seemed to appreciate life more. He had grown the most beautiful flowers, when in full bloom he would pick them for her grave. He must have been a really good husband to her when she was still alive. "Hey there it is", James interrupts my thoughts. 
We grow closer and notice an old car that I am not too familiar with, "1972 Chev Impala" James points out, "a classic", well that answers that. The gas station has chipped blue and yellow paint, it looks like something out of an old western movie minus the tumble weed and the dirt roads. We enter the store at the gas station, not a soul in sight. "Hey Calla free stuff" James jokes around. I really need the bathroom and James is going to look for a clerk to pay for a couple of things he took. I am uncertain about using a gas station bathroom but a couple of miles back I needed to go but refused because James would see and that made me feel rather uncomfortable — when I told him that he could just turn away he said he would not risk my safety by leaving me alone so I told him it was a false alarm. Honestly, I have no idea what has been going on with him but since this entire thing started, he has been really nice to me which is so off character for him. He would usually ignore me. I mean not that I expected that he would have wanted me as a girlfriend or whatever but I was nowhere near being his friend even — one time I got invited to this party and it was just mostly kids from school. I knew most of them from class because it is a small town and I practically grew up with these people but when I waved at James, he stared at me like I was nonexistent and continued to take some blonde upstairs. Sometimes I wonder if I said anything wrong or did something to make him dislike me but soon, I realized that it was just his personality so I never bothered trying to be friends, instead I just kept to myself.

The bathrooms are all the way around to the back of the gas station; when I went inside it was worse than I thought. I mean usually I do not fuss over stuff but bathrooms are my absolute kryptonite. The stalls are so tiny and the doors are painted a dark shade of blue like the sign outside. Like the rest of the stop the paint was practically peeling off — the basins looked like they had not been cleaned in half a decade. I guess James was not kidding when he said people avoided this way. The new campsite must have the cleanest rest stops because this one was completely run down. I decided against using this bathroom and rather washed my hands. A strange grunting noise made me almost jump — Turning around cautiously, this man is in the lady's restroom. His blue jumpsuit is a little baggy and not his size at all. A big-name tag is plastered across the right side of his chest, his nails are dirty and make me cringe, "uh Joe, I think you're in the wrong..." there was something off about Joe, the way he looked at me sent an alarm raging through me. Should I run? Joe just stared at me and I knew where I had seen that look before — Mr. Cardellini.

James

Man, I told Calla this place would be a little out of shape but it is a total dump. I grab as much shit as I can because the next station is not for miles and I do not want to take a chance especially not with Calla. This place is nothing like I remember — we would stop here and get pancakes on our way to the cabin in the summers. This was around the time my father met Susan. Despite her being a pain, she was not a bad mother or anything, of course she was not my mother but some of my happiest memories have Susan in them. I guess I always resented her because despite her being a good person she was never mum. After mum died, I became a total dick. I started sleeping with girls I had no intention of keeping around and getting drunk to the point of blackouts. I knew I never deserved a girl as good as Calla but here I am thrown into a situation with her — and I fucking love it. The whole situation itself is messed up but I love having her all to myself. She can be such a hard ass but she is beyond everything I thought she was. I am sure the clerk will turn up soon, the fucker is probably still on his break somewhere not used to people coming around. I mean that has to be his sweet ride out there. 
I decide to inspect the car while I wait for Calla to finish up in the restroom. The car is in fairly good shape but there is something off about it — in fact it does not look like it has been driven it in at least a couple of days or the owner takes poor care of it. The dust builds up on the dash board, if the owner did not take care of it, it would be less shiny and new looking. Where the fuck is Calla? 
I make my way to the restroom around the corner — when I hear her scream my blood runs cold.

Calla

I move quickly to one of the stalls and Joe gets really aggressive. I moved before he did and I let out a scream as an alert to James. I hope he heard me — Joe is really going at the stall door and I need to do something quick; before he gets in and hurts me like Mr. Cardellini hurt that man. His hands are digging through the stall door and I do not know if my strength can hold a door against an almost six-foot man with more muscle than I have. I try to reach into the side of my bag for the pocket knife and Joe manages to bust the door open. The screams that escape my throat can not be helped because he is pawing at me; my backpack plummets to the floor. The only thing separating Joe and I is this tiny blue door. 
The main door swings open with a loud thud and my eyes remain shut as I push with all my might; I am not sure I can hold on anymore. If I die here, now ; the things I never got to say will haunt me. "Calla? Calla are you okay? ", My eyes witness the grisly sight of James' hunting knife lodged into Joe's head whilst my body will not stop shaking. "I. I'm okay ", I reply. Honestly. I am okay. Physically anyway. "Are you sure, did he hurt you?", he asks as he inspects me. "I'm fine, really", All I am able to muster up is a weak smile. Joe's pockets contain a key and a wallet. James takes my hand and leads me out of the stall. He opens Joes car and seats me in the passenger seat. "I'll be right back". When he returns, he has his hunting knife and a couple of bags. Everything is lugged into the boot and the tank is refilled with gas. He gets a red can and fills that up with gas too. "We are not stopping again until we get to the cabin, do you need the bathroom still?" 
I shake my head; I am way too freaked out to go back in there and I cannot go in the woods with James watching — although he was right about safety. It seems like nowhere is safe anymore. "Buckle up" he says and we pull away in our acquired car. "How long to the cabin?", I ask curiously. "About two or three hours now that we don't have to walk". I suppose that is good news because I am exhausted. It takes no time before I nod off.