"Stay here," he said, leaving Lydia by the front counter. He dashed quickly up and down the chaotic aisles until he found a book of matches and, buried under the sacks of charcoal, a tin of lighter fluid. He ran back to the front of the store. Papers, he saw, were conglomerating against the window and door, fluttering in the wind.
And fluttering against the wind.
He opened the red plastic childproof cap of the lighter fluid. He wasn't exactly sure how he was going to do this, but he was damned if he was going to let the papers get either him or Lydia. He glanced over at her. She seemed to have recovered somewhat and was not dazed with shock as he'd feared she'd be. She seemed cognizant, aware of what was happening, and he thought that she was a hell of a lot stronger than he would have given her credit for.
He pulled away one of the fixtures he'd used to blockade the door. "We're getting out of here," he said. "Think you can make it?"
She nodded suddenly.
He pulled away the shelves. Just in time, he noticed. There was a line of used and dirty Q-tips coming into the store from under the door, sliding silently along the floor, swab to swab, like a giant worm.
Here was a chance to try out his weaponry. He took out a match, struck it, then sprayed lighter fluid on the Q-tips and tossed the match. The tiny swabs went up in flame, twisting into charred blackness. There was agony in their death movements but no sound, and the unnatural sight sent a cascade of goose bumps down his arms. He took a deep breath. "Let's go."
He pulled open the door and leaped back, expecting a flood of paper to come flying into the store, but there was nothing, only wind and dust, and he realized that the papers must have seen his fire demonstration. He looked at Lydia. "Can you hold the lighter fluid?"
"Yes," she said.
He handed her the container, took out a match, and grabbed her hand. They walked outside. Around them, above them, papers fluttered and flew in the strong wind, but there was an empty circle surrounding them, and the circle remained the same size as they moved across the street toward the car. The newspapers which covered the Blazer fled as they approached, and they both got in the driver's side, quickly shutting the door. The McDonald's mess on the floor had disappeared.
He reached for the keys in the ignition, but they were not there. He checked on the floor, patted his pockets, looked over at Lydia. "Do you have the keys?"
She shook her head. "You didn't take them with you?"
"I left them here. Shit!" He slammed his hand against the steering wheel, causing the horn to blat loudly. They both jumped.
Outside, the papers were swirling closer, junk food wrappers-inching forward along the ground toward them, ripped posters creeping alongside.
"Let's get back to the gas station," Lydia said.
Josh nodded. "I think they need another demonstration to make sure they leave us alone, though. Get out my side."
They got out of the car, and he doused the front seat with lighter fluid.
"What are you doing?" Lydia demanded. "That's our car! We need it! We'll never get out of here without it!"
"We'll get out." He lit a match and threw it onto the front seat. The cloth seat covers went up in a whoosh of flame, and the papers on the street, obviously agitated, whirled in incoherent frenzy, widening the circle around them.
Josh grabbed his wife's hand again, and they started back toward the gas station. Dust blew into their eyes, stinging. They were halfway there when he saw a car coming along the highway toward them. "A car!" he said excitedly. He moved quickly to the center line and waved his arms back and forth in the classic distress signal.
The car came closer.
"Help!" he yelled. "Help!"
The car sped by, honking its horn.
"Asshole!" Josh yelled in frustration, holding up his middle finger. "Goddamn son of a bitch-"
Lydia put a restraining hand on his arm. "Come on, let's go to the gas station. Maybe that old man can help us."
"He can't even help himself. If he could, he wouldn't still be here."
"There will be other cars. This is a major highway. Someone's bound to stop."
"If we create a disaster," Josh said, nodding. He smiled grimly. "Let's go."
The gas station was empty. They searched the office, the garage, the men's and women's bathrooms, but there was no sign of the attendant. It was now nearly five, and though neither of them said anything, they both realized that it would soon be dark. Although the highway itself was clear save for a few stray pieces of windblown trash, the desert surrounding the gas station was covered with papers and was growing more crowded by the minute.
"What are we going to do?" Lydia asked.
Josh unhooked the hose from one of the gas pumps. "Start a fire."
"What if-?"
"Don't worry," he said.
He pressed down on the handle of the nozzle and poured gas all over the dirt and cement surrounding the two pumps. He stopped pumping and handed her the matchbox, saving a handful of matches for himself. "Go up to the road and tell me when you see a car coming. If anything starts moving toward you, use the lighter fluid and torch it."
She started to say something but saw the look of almost fanatic determination on his face and decided against it. She moved slowly across the pavement toward the highway.
Josh continued to pump gas onto the ground, soaking the entire area around the pumps. The hose was not very long, but he moved as close to the building itself as he could and watered the cement with it. The papers surrounding the gas station swirled crazily, frenetically. "A car!" Lydia shouted. "A car!" Josh dropped the hose, ran toward the edge of his gas pool, and struck a match on the pavement. It caught, then sputtered out in the wind. "A car!" Lydia screamed.
He struck another match, dropping it, and the ground exploded in a rush of fire, singeing his face. He ran toward Lydiar feeling the heat against his back, and the second he reached the edge of the highway, there was a thunderous explosion as the pumps blew. The ground shook once, and a moment later pieces of metal fell from the sky. A small hot chunk landed next to Josh's foot and another near Lydia, but none of the fragments touched them.
"Come on!" Josh ran into the highway. The car was not coming from the north but from the south, and he stood in the middle of the northbound lane, waving his arms, frantically pointing toward the burning gas station.
The car pulled to a stop a yard or so in front of them. A middle-aged man with graying black hair and a mustache stuck his head out the window. "What happened?"
"Explosion!" Josh said as he and Lydia ran forward. "We
need to get help!"
"Hop in fast," the man ordered. "My wife's going to have a baby, and we don't have time to waste."
They got into the backseat of the car. Looking out the window as the car took off, Josh saw angry papers swarming over the spot where they had stood. Others flew around the spiraling smoke which billowed up from the fire.
He hoped the whole damn town burned down. Josh reached for Lydia's hand, held it, smiled. But she was frowning, looking forward. In the front seat, the man and his wife were silent. The man was concentrating on the road. His wife, next to him, was bundled beneath a heavy blanket, though the temperature in the un-air-conditioned car was so warm it was almost stifling. "You're going to have a baby?" Lydia asked.
"Yes, she is." ;
"Where's the hospital?"