Page 16 of The Boy With The Sharp Teeth
"Yes,but you have family down here," she argued. "And that makes sense tofeel that way. But all of my family is back in Seattle, and they are not infavor whatsoever of my decision to move back here."
"No,"he shook his head. "My need to come back to Tarki had nothing to do withmy family, it wasn't a familial feeling that pulled me back or nostalgia."
"Whatwas it?" She dared herself to whisper, despite her poor, exhaustedthrashing heart begging her not to ask.
Thefeeling of his arm shifting next to hers nearly made her jump. Feeling the heatfrom his presence get closer, she could see out of the corner of her eye as heleaned just a little bit closer to her. "It was knowing that at the end ofthat feeling that drew me was someone feeling the same thing—waiting for me.Someone I have been waiting years for, someone I knew in my gut that would beback."
OhGod, she felt panicked by his words, like he forcibly exposed a secret she knewshe had been trying to keep from herself, to keep locked away deep inside toavoid its presence. But here he was, barging back into her life and rippingthat hidden truth back out into the light, forcing her to acknowledge itspossibility.
"Idid not come back for you, Zachariah!" She declared, her voice rising alittle too high.
"Mmm,"he let out a deep noise past his smirking lips that insinuated that he beggedto differ.
Frustrated,she nearly gasped in relief at the familiar blue glow of the gas station'slights ahead.
"Ineed to get some gas," she announced, her words clipped.
"Perfect,"Zach leaned back and straightened in his seat, giving back the few preciousinches of space he took from her. "This is where Noah lives. I will see ifhe is home and if he will go pick up my bike."
Pullinginto the brightly lit station, she marveled how much had changed over theyears. When she was younger, the original station had been owned by a crankyold geezer who let the place run down to rot and ruin. The original buildingused to be an old wooden two-story trapper's house that had been converted intoa run-down gas station with only four gas pumps. Now it stood as a brightlylit, modern ten-pump station with a large two-story white and blue house. Thefirst floor of the station was used as the basic convenience store and cashierstand, while the upstairs was designated for what she assumed was the livingspace.
"Ithink I remember him, but not well. Have I met him before?" She asked,parking the car at one of the empty pumps. It was late, and most of Tarki waseither asleep or getting ready to go to sleep. Like most small towns, Tarki wasa place people got up extremely early and went to bed at nightfall, making itnot unusual that she and Zach were the only ones here.
Zachnodded before opening the door to the car and swinging one foot down."Do you remember the only other cousin my age I would hang out with?
Hermemories churned as she did her best to remember anything beyond Zach'shandsome face all those summers ago. "You mean the one that you hung outwith and spent your free time rebelling against that old sheriff with?"
"Yep,that's the one," Zach grinned without a shred of remorse.
Withthe added fluorescent gas station lights, Sana could see that his silky darkhair was half pulled into a ponytail while allowing the rest to hang freearound his neck.
"Thenyes, I remember him—vaguely," she answered, looking away from him.
"Stayput. I'm going to go see if he is here." Shutting the car door before shecould reply to that, Zach walked over to the blue and white building. Takingthe stairs on the side of the house two at a time, Zach opened the screen doorand knocked on the door. A few moments later, he disappeared inside.
"Whydid I even pick him up?" She grumbled to herself. "I should have lethim sit there in the dark until morning."
Recallinghis last remark of "stay put," Sana bristled at that. Reaching intothe back seat, Sana grabbed her purse and fished out her credit card. Turningback around in her seat, she let out a clipped scream at the man standing ather window.
Wearinga dirty canvas onesie that at once in its life was probably a pale blue, thebadly stained outfit looked as if it hadn't been washed in months. Unflinching,the man just stood there and stared directly at her on the other side of herwindow. It was the same man who creepily stared at her in the grocery store theother day. Becker, something. Walter Becker, she believed.
Pressingher hand to her chest, Sana took a deep breath and tried to calm herself. Ok,it’s nothing to freak out over, she thought. Oregon was one of the two statesin the US that once required attendants to pump customer's gas instead of thenormal self-service, though most rural towns had always forgone that custom.Pressing the button so that the window rolled down a couple of inches only,Sana leaned hesitantly forward to the glass.
"I'mfine. I can pump it myself," she called out through the crack.
Still,he just stood there, not saying anything and never looking away. Getting abetter look at him, she realized his clothes weren't the only unwashed aspectabout him. His hair, which was gray, thinning, and kept pushed back in a greasypile from his face, looked as if it hadn't been washed in a week. With the grayin his hair and beard, he looked to be in his fifties, though Sana couldn't besure. It was the piercing hateful look in his eyes, however, that kept herthoughts in disarray as he stared at her.
Alarmed,she tried to think of something. Maybe the poor man was mentally handicapped,or maybe there was something else the matter. "Umm, does your credit cardmachine not work?"
Hiseyes stayed unfeeling and focused on her as he lifted one stiff arm and pointedto the store. "No, you will need to come inside and pay there," hisvoice was as to be expected, scratchy and rough. But not at all slow or hard tounderstand, which made her think he may be mentally fine.
Followingthe length of his arm to the station's storefront, she bit her lip and lookeddesperately to the windows above where Zach supposedly went. The store wasempty and partially lit on the inside as if they turned off half the lights inthe unused sections and only left the lights over the cashier on. Everyinstinct in her body was telling her not to get out and go inside asinstructed.
"Uh,"she paused, trying to come up with something to say. Something that would makehim just go away so she could pump her gas herself.
"Youcan't just sit here if you don't get gas," the man said angrily. There wasa manic gleam of impatience in his eyes.
"I…I.."
