The Saviors

5

As we entered Reno, Peter muttered, "Out of gas."

He quickly lurched forward and found the nearest station, which wasn't difficult. He seemed relieved that he made it to the station.

He pulled a wad of money from his pocket, and counted it while he sat in the front seat. He scowled and muttered a swear word. Except not in English, in French.

"Sorry, guys, I can't fill the tank without taking all my cash. And we need a lot of gas."

Juno elbowed him softly. "Do you think that guy over there wouldn't mind us taking his fully gassed up van in exchange for this car?"

He cringed, and I answered her. "I think it'd be a fair exchange, but, I feel bad for the guy who losses this car."

Juno shrugged. "We'll make it up to the guy. Eventually."

They both ducked out of the car, and I followed in suit. The random guy standing next to a midnight-black van strode past us, going inside the store. Peter glanced around before ducking in the van.

He sighed in relief when he sat in the driver's seat. "The keys are in here. Get in."

Juno and I jumped in the back of the van as Peter scribbled a note quickly on a slip of paper. I read as he wrote, barely able to read the writing.

Hey -

We stole your van. Take the silver Ferrari in the first parking space as a thank you. The keys are in the glove box. Thanks.

Peter stuck the note to the gas pump. He revved the engine as I saw the guy walking out of the store.

"Hold tight, guys," he muttered from the front.

"To what?" I asked sarcastically. There were no seats in the back, barely any room for both Juno and me to sit.

Peter started to take the road back to the interstate, but swerved into a drug store instead.

"I need some painkillers," Peter explained. He got out and entered the store, rubbing his temples. Juno and I both got out and went into the store as well. We split, Juno going to look for food, me going to wander around.

I stopped when I saw it. It was beautiful - with a leather cover and thick, smooth pages. Next to it sat a bag of wooden pencils edge with a solid line of blue. I walked up to it, and picked it up.

It was a sketch book. I'd always been a bit of an artist - it was a good way to keep my hands busy. I'd been drawing and sketching since I was four.

I unfolded two crisp bills out of my pocket. It would have been wiser to spend my money on food - but my mind was so focused on the book, that I bought it anyway. I had nearly thirty dollars leftover. I didn't care. I picked up a black backpack and purchased it as well. I shoved the book and the pencils into it carefully.

It was an awesome bag. It was large, yet small. Lightweight, and it fit on my back well. I shouldered it and jumped into the back of the van. Peter was already in the driver's seat, and he had his head on the steering wheel.

"You okay, Pete?"

He waved it off, and sat up. His face was pale.

"Sorry," he apologized. "This is why I can't be in a big city for very long. The voices from other people's minds compile in my head. It's like having little people on your shoulder, relaying their every thought."

"Why are we going to Orlando, then?"

"Northern Orlando is less populated as the south," he explained. "The south is where Disney World and Universal are. The north is just a regular city."