Out of the Past: A Can of Gasoline and a Big Damn Roach

An old one from an online flash fiction challenge put forth by Dan O'Shea. This is probably... I don't know, at least 4 years old, maybe older than that. 

....
 

The kid behind the counter at the gas station looked and smelled like he was using the 40-weight oil for both a hair tonic and an aftershave. He had the manual for a '68 Barracuda open on the counter in front of him, and from the right angle it appeared the pin-up on the 1986 Snap-On Tools calendar was almost as engrossed in the reading material as he was. I decided I should try to remember the pin-up's big hair and curves in case I took a break at a rest stop on the drive back to Cincinnati.

I went over to the cooler, grabbed out a can of Coke and walked to the counter.
"Can of Coke and a gallon of gas." I tossed two dollars on the counter. "Keep the change."
"Thanks."
I turned and headed for the door but stopped before I got there and faced the kid again. "Your calendar is out of date."
"What?"
"It's 1987."
"So?"
You just can't be friendly with some people.

#I'd never had any intention of stealing a car when I first set out on the road from Cincy. But by the time I got to Denver, my old Buick Skylark was done. And that would've been fine, but it turned out Cotter had already moved on, and I was about out of cash and still short a set of wheels.
The first car I stole was a Trans Am.  Black with a big gold eagle. Its owner had a respectable collection of Waylon Jennings and Johnny Cash tapes, too. I got rid of that car in South Dakota, but I kept the tapes.
I might've lost Cotter's trail for good, but then I ran into this woman called Arlene in Madison, Wisconsin. I didn't remember her right away, but she remembered me.
"You're Cotter's friend." It came out of her mouth like an accusation.
"I wouldn't say that. Not anymore."
"Do you remember me?'
I decided to go with honesty at that point. "I can't say I do, but, you know, when I was running with that guy..."
She waved me off. "I remember you. Randy from Cincinnati. You had a big appetite for pills."
"That's me."
She tossed her peroxide blonde hair over her shoulder and sat down next to me. "Arlene."
Hearing her name made something click in my head. "From Houston."
"That's right." She seemed pleased that I remembered that little detail.
"You're a long way from Houston, Arlene. How about a drink?"
"How about two or three?"
That sounded good, so I started buying drinks with money that I hadn't earned and she brought me up to date on Cotter.

#The sky opened up and started to dump rain as soon as I pulled out of the gas station in Munster. I'd been to Chicago a few times, but never to Indiana, though Munster, to be honest, felt more like just another southern suburb of the city. I had directions to Cotter's place, but the rain pounded down so hard the Grand Prix's windshield wipers couldn't keep up.
I spotted a parking lot and pulled off the street to wait out the storm and listen to some music.  After awhile, I opened the glove box and checked out the registration. One Larry Wilder of Madison.  Maybe, I thought, when I was done with Cotter, I'd use a payphone, call this Larry guy collect, and tell him where to find his car down in Munster.
I opened the ashtray next. Inside was a roach.
A big damn roach.
I had to laugh. Larry Wilder of Madison was probably really bummed that someone had stolen his car.
I got the roach out of there and fired it up as the sound of a tornado siren filled the air.

#

I didn't see a tornado, but after an hour or so, it had gotten dark and the rain let up a bit. As I drove toward the place Cotter was supposed to be, I saw some downed tree branches and bit of destruction.

I'd seen the aftermath of tornadoes before, and it looked to me like the folks in Munster had dodged the bullet for the most part.

I popped the tape out of the deck and switched on the radio. The best thing I could find was Murray Head singing 'One Night in Bangkok'.

Finding Cotter's place was easy enough. Just a little house with a black Olds parked out front. I pulled to a stop across the street, cut the engine, and rolled down my window.

Almost four hours went by before I saw Cotter at the front window. He had a can of beer in one hand, a cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth, and he was talking to someone on the phone.

In a way, it was good to see him again.

#

I got as much as I could out of that roach while I waited for Cotter to call it a night.

I was about to get out of the car as soon as the lights went out in his place, but a cop car came rolling up the street real slow and I started to get a little paranoid.

The cop never even looked in my direction.

Still, I waited for another hour before I got out of the car.

The rain had started coming down again. Thunder boomed and the rain came harder as I took the gasoline can from the trunk and walked toward Cotter's place.

It was a little cold but I didn't mind.  I'd be good and warm soon enough.

 *

 Check out the rest of the stories in Dan O'Shea's Tornado Relief Flash Fiction Challenge right here.